#fuck everybody fuck god fuck nice people fuck mean people fuck the normalizing of horrible drugs fuck addiction and fuck myself
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god oh my god this sucks so fucking much, i knew today would be the worst day so far but holy fucking shit i truly just wish i was fucking dead!!
#i have a job interview tomorrow and there was ONE THING that i needed to do this weekend to prepare for it#and we were both going through withdrawals so badly that i DIDNT FUCKING DO IT#im literally just so angry at myself and at everything else in the world and i've been so fucking mean to the cats today and i hate myself#about it#i dont even WANT to go to the fucking interview tomorrow i just want to kill myself and cry and die and fucking give up on it all#this sucks so fucking badly oh my fucking god and i would bet you all like 500 fucking dollars#that ethan relapses on it today while he's at work and comes home fucking STINKING and making it worse for me#YET AGAIN#oh my god im so fucking angry im so fucking angry i just wanna scream and punch and throw and smash#AND I JUST HAVE TO KEEP IT ALL LOCKED UP INSIDE ME THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION NO FUCING OPTIONS NO CHOICES NOTHING#there will never be anything for me in this life and i dont know why i've been pretending otherwise#GOD it hasnt even been 72 hours yet can i please just be done#can i please find the first man who smoked tobacco and mass marketed it#AND FUCKING STRANGLE HIM TO DEATH????????????#im gonna kill and cry and die and hate my life my self my everything#ive just been crying so many fucking angry tears#like i'll be so angry and when it does come out it comes as tears and i personally???? hate that shit so much#makes me feel so fucking weak#fuck everybody fuck god fuck nice people fuck mean people fuck the normalizing of horrible drugs fuck addiction and fuck myself#just gotta keep telling myself i dont need it
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Give it time
Summary:
Tony throws a party. Loki and you are in an established relationship. He watches the party and sees you and Steve getting too close for his liking. So, he decides to do something about it.
Word count:
3.185 words
Warnings:
Angst, jealously, insecure Loki/soft Loki
Give it time
He heard you laughing out loud again, from across the room. Loki was by the bar and already on his fourth, or fifth? no definitely fourth, drink of Asgardian mead. At least Thor was useful for something. He gulped down the rest of his drink and signalled the mortal behind the bar to pour him another. It looked like he was going to say something to him, but giving him his best death glare, to mortal held his tongue. He took a large sip and turned around eyeing the room. Tony was entertaining some of his friends, the widow was flirting with Banner who was oblivious to all hints and then he saw you with the soldier. The perfectly, honest, can do no wrong in his life soldier. He took another large sip. Thor was walking towards him.
‘Are you forgetting that you’re not drinking mortal alcohol, brother? Thor asked concerned.
‘No, of course not’ Loki replied irritated. I’m not like you. I’m only on my fourth drink, fourth right? Yeah, definitely fourth he thought.
‘Where’s your lady?’ Thor asked. Loki took another sip of his drink and gestured towards you and Steve.
‘Ah, at least she is in good company I see’ Thor said. Even tough Loki knew he didn’t mean it like that, the comment hurt him. But that was not something he would show. Before he could reply Thor was called by Tony, who probably wanted another attempt at wielding Mjölnir. Like that pathetic excuse of a man could ever wield it. Loki was distracted from his thoughts when he heard your laugh again. He heard it every time, it was the most wonderful and purest sound he had ever heard. He watched as you and Steve laughed with each other. Steve was getting a little too close for Loki’s liking, but he had learned not to disturb you. He was not in the mood to be having that fight with you, again. He is just a friend, he would never make a move knowing I’m with you, he isn’t like that, you had told him time and time again. Still, Loki never fully trusted Steve. When it came to you, he trusted no man.
He downed his drink and made a hand gesture to the mortal behind the bar, not caring to actually acknowledge his present this time. When his cup was filled again he took another sip. He watched as you told a story to Steve and saw your whole face light up. Maybe, you should be with someone like Steve. He is everything I am not. He is nice, polite, caring, courageous and he would treat you right. He was good, irritatingly good. In all the time Loki had known Steve he was waiting for him to slip up, make a mistake, but Loki was starting to think that day would never come. He tried to treat you like the queen you were, but he felt like he always comes up short with you. You had tried to reassure him that you loved him and would be his until the end of time, but Loki didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. It won’t be long before she realizes she can do better. Everyone eventually does. Loki started to wonder how much time he would have left before Steve, or someone else, would steal you away. His preference would be anyone but Steve, he really hated Steve. He needed to be careful, he couldn’t bare losing you. Not this soon, if ever. He took another large sip of his cup, but realized it was empty. Damn mortal bartender forgot to refill my cup, again.
He signalled the bartender rather angry, the man looked frightened at him. Loki gave him a wicked grin and he swore he saw the man tremble a little. He loved to scare people. Something a good man, a better man, one deserving of you, would never do he thought while his smile faltered. Loki grabbed his cup and turned around. He saw that your story was coming to an end. The look on Steve’s face made him sick. He took a large sip. I should distract myself he thought. He eyed the room again, but the only thing he could do was sit beside Thor, who was telling some war story. Loki wasn’t in the mood. Loki looked back towards you when he heard you laugh again. Steve said something to you, but you couldn’t hear him. Stark had turned the music up. Horrible loud music. That’s when he saw the soldier put a hand around you and place it on your lower back. He pulled you slightly towards you and you whispered something in his ear.
THAT’S IT! Loki didn’t care anymore. He would not stand for this. He smashed his glass on the ground behind the bar, making the bartender flinch. Normally, he would laugh, but he had to get to you as fast as he could. He took a few steps, his balance felt a little off, but he didn’t care. He walked towards you as fast as he could. He slapped the soldier’s hand from your lower back and put his arm around your waist. He pulled you flush against him ‘Darling, a word’ he hissed.
‘Loki, I don’t think..’ Steve started before Loki put his hand in the air to silence him. He quickly teleported the two of you back to his chambers. He let go of you and locked the door. When he turned around he saw the rather angry expression on your face. But it was nowhere near the angry expression you saw on his face. ‘WHAT THE HELL, LOKI!’ you yelled at him, startled from the sudden change in environment. He didn’t respond, maybe teleporting wasn’t the best idea I ever had. There was an awkward silence that lasted longer than he would have liked. He was still searching for his words. ‘Why?’ you asked him.
‘I didn’t feel like watching how the two of you were flirting’ he replied.
‘You honestly think I was FLIRTING with him?’ you exclaimed.
‘He had his arm around you’ he responded.
‘He just pulled me closer so we could hear each other. Tony had turned up the music so loud, we couldn’t hear each other’ you replied.
‘He kept holding you’ the anger Loki had first felt was ebbing away. He didn’t want to admit, he would never to anyone, but he was trying to keep his emotions in check. He was certain you were going to dump him and run into the arms of the soldier, and Loki felt like crying.
‘So? It was a friendly gesture’ you said. That fuelled his anger once again. He loved you, but you were rather naïve sometimes. Loki really didn’t want to have this fight, again. He needed you to stay with him, he couldn’t let go of you, he won’t do it ever. He walked a few steps in your direction and was relieved he didn’t see you back away. He put his arm on the lower of your back and leaned in ‘Is this a friendly gesture?’ he whispered. He noticed how your breath hitched a little, you leaned in a little closer and your lips were almost touching his. ‘I think you need a reminder who you belong to’ he said huskily. It was a bold move, but he hoped it would keep you from leaving him.
A sly smile appeared on his face as he saw you swallow hard at his words. He knew what buttons to push to get you there. He let his lips ghost over yours and held back the urge to kiss you again and again, until you were out of breath. He needed to hear you moan, feel you whiter underneath him and realize that you needed him, hopefully enough to stay with him. He slowly started to walk you backwards until your legs hit his bed. He laid you down and immediately crawled on top of you. He started to kiss your collarbone and made his way up to your throat and ear. Making sure to leave bruises and marks, he loved to mark you. That way everybody would know you were his, and only his. He felt your heartbeat increase and your soft gasps, making him smile against your skin.
‘You’re mine’ he growled lowly in your ear. He felt you shiver slightly and noticed goosebumps starting to appear on your skin. He got up and startled your legs. With one strong movement he ripped your dress right through. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard you gasp. Then he saw that you didn’t wore any underwear. He cocked an eyebrow to silently asked you why. ‘I thought this would be easier for you’ you smirked, answering his silent question. Loki felt his cock stir, but right before he could continue the thought of Steve being so close to you, without you wearing any underwear popped into his head. He tried to distract himself and latched his mouth to one of your nipples. He massaged the other one by rolling your hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Already gasping and panting for air, and I have barely begun. He started to feel a bit dizzy, but ignored it. Maybe I should have listened to Thor and ease up on the drinks next time.
When he was finished with your breasts he slowly trailed open mouth kisses down your body. Making sure to kiss every inch of your body. He hummed against your skin when he felt you spread your legs. He kissed you lower and lower, stopping right before he was at your clit. He was pleased to smell your arousal, a scent as divine as the finest flower on Asgard. He ghosted your clit, knowing that drove you crazy. He felt your hands in his hair, urging him to stop teasing you. Loki let his tongue slip out and give you a light lick on your clit. His plan was to have you begging for more, but when he heard the moan that left your lips, he lost it. He latched his mouth firmly on your clit and swirled the hardened bud with his tongue. You tried to buck away at the sudden stimulation, but pulled your thighs over his shoulders and hold you firmly in place. ‘O god.. o god..’ you started to chant. It was lovely to hear, but not enough. Loki upped his game and let two fingers enter between your folds. He felt the wetness between your thighs and his fingers met no resistance. He slowly started to finger-fuck you while swirling his tongue on your clit in the same rhythm.
After only a short time he felt your walls clench around his fingers and knew you were close. The thought to stop crossed his mind for a second, but he would hear you beg soon enough. ‘O god, Loki’ you cried out as he felt the wave of pleasure wash over you. Your walls clenched hard around his fingers and you tried to move his tongue away from your clit, but failed. He kept pumping in and out of you while slowly circling your clit with his tongue. He wanted to prolong the feeling of your pleasure as long as he could. Once he noticed you started to come down from your high, he shimmered your clothes away and kissed his way back up to your mouth.
He kissed you passionately while lining his hardened cock up with your entrance. ‘Hmm… Loki’ you moaned into the kiss. Right before he entered you he stilted and looked at you with a playful smile on his face. ‘Yes, darling?’ he asked feigning innocence. You tried to buck your hips so he would enter you, but Loki resisted.
‘If there is something you want, all you need to do is ask’ he mused while nibbling on your earlobe.
‘Take me’ you whispered. Loki kissed you eagerly again and entered you in one smooth motion. You gasped, you did it every time he entered you. It was his favourite part, every time. He felt your walls clenching down right away, and knew you still hadn’t come fully down from your orgasm. He didn’t give you time to recover and started to pound into you like this was the last time he would fuck you. Maybe it is. He tried to push the thought away and focus on your withering beneath him. He pulled your legs over his shoulder and leaned down to leave open kisses on your mouth. Sometimes he would slide his tongue in yours, exploring every inch and taking your breath away. He felt he was close and started to circle your clit with his fingers. He felt your walls clench and knew that if you came, he was done for. So, he stilted all movements and revelled inside when he hears a needy whine escape your lips.
‘Loki’ you panted, hoping that he would go on. But he made no movement.
‘Who do you belong to?’ he asked
‘You, I belong to you’ you said while catching your breath. Loki slowly started to resume his movements.
‘And who can make you feel like this?’ he grunted
‘God, yo- you, only you!’ you exclaimed when Loki picked up his pace.
‘Who’s this God you keep praying to?’ he mused, already knowing your answer.
‘You. God you. Please Loki, please let me come’ you begged him.
He snapped his hips as fast as he could and his fingers found your clit. He felt your walls clench. A feeling of pride went through him when he heard you chant his name so loud, the whole tower could probably hear it. In the middle of your orgasm, he felt his cock twitch and his seed spilled inside of you. Every time he came inside of you it felt like Valhalla itself. He pumped a few more times to ride out his own orgasm and pulled out. He laid down next to you, not wanting to collapse on top of you and crushing him with his weight. The feeling of dizziness grew and he even felt a little sick. Definitely drinking less next time. You crawled against him and he wrapped his arm around you. He was surprised when you kissed his cheek, not expecting the loving gesture.
‘You know, you don’t have to be jealous at Steve. There is nothing going on, I only want you’ you tried to reassure him. Loki just stared at the ceiling, he didn’t want to meet your gaze.
‘I don’t trust him’ he gritted through his teeth, trying to hold back his anger towards Steve.
‘Do you trust me?’ you asked him.
He was kind of startled that you asked him did. He looked into your eyes and saw a hint of hurt and desperation in them. He gave you a kiss on your forehead ‘With my life’ he whispered.
‘Then trust me, I will never leave you for Steve or any other man’ you tried to reassure him. You snuggled closer and kissed his chest. Loki wanted to tell you that you couldn’t possibly make such a promise, and that you shouldn’t. Not to him. But he was happy to have you next to him – for now - and didn’t want to spoil it. Not wanting to talk about it anymore he gave you a kiss on your head ‘We should clean up, you’re staying here tonight?’ he asked.
‘Of course, just like every other night this past week’ you giggled. You got up and went to the bathroom, while Loki cleaned himself with his seidr. ‘You need anything from the kitchen?’ he asked to you.
‘A water would be nice’ you replied from the bathroom.
Loki put on his sweatpants and went to the kitchen. He heard the party still in full swing on the floor above him. He opened the fridge to get a water bottle. When he closed he noticed that Steve had entered the kitchen, and he couldn’t give up his change to annoy him. ‘Sorry if we were too loud, I would tell you it won’t happen again tonight. But even I can’t tell that lie with a straight face’ Loki smirked towards Steve. He was a bit annoyed when Steve just shrugged ‘I barely heard the two of you’ he replied.
‘But I was a little concerned about you. You sure seemed a little intoxicated, you’re feeling better? Steve asked with genuine concern on his face. But Loki could see through the lie, he was actually mocking him. Knowing full well he drank too much, and why. Still, he played along.
‘Nothing a god like me can’t handle, mortal’ he replied rather dryly.
‘Good, for a moment there I was worried I had to take your lady home’ Steve said. This time making less of an attempt to show genuine concern.
‘You have nothing to worry about. I will always take her home’ he replied rather irritated.
The soldier just winked at him ‘Give it time’ he said while exiting the kitchen. Loki felt sick all over again and rushed towards the sink to vomit. When he was done he was scared that Steve had heard him, but he wasn’t there and didn’t hear him. He quickly cleaned the sink and his teeth with his seidr, while trying to figure out if it was Steve, the drinks, or a combination of both that caused him to vomit. I knew I shouldn’t trust him he thought. If Steve weren’t important to you, Loki would have killed him right now. Still, Steve’s intentions were very clear. Loki walked back towards his room and saw you already laying in his bed under the sheets. You were wearing one of his t-shirts and reading the book he had left there this morning.
Only the light of the nightstand was shining in the room. You looked up and smiled at him when he entered. He got under the covers with you and handed you your water bottle. You opened it and took a few sips ‘thanks’ you said. You put the book back on his nightstand and turned of the light. Loki couldn’t hold it in anymore. When you laid back down he immediately grabbed you, pulling you as close as he could. Fearing that if he let go right now, you would somehow vanish. ‘Loki? You alright?’ you whispered. He nuzzled his head against your chest and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He cried.
Tags:
@delightfulheartdream
@the-best-phineas
#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki of asgard#loki marvel#loki mcu#loki love#loki oneshot#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki angst#loki angry#loki fluff#loki smut#Smut#shameless smut#loki story#loki sad#loki sweet#loki x reader#loki x you#loki x ofc#loki x original female character
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Commitment
- the one where Y/n has commitment issues, until she meets Harry
Masterlist
-
Y/n has really bad commitment issues.
So much so, that she hasn't had a real, genuine boyfriend for as long as she —and her friends — can remember.
Sure, she's gone on multiple dates with the same guy, hooked up with them, even went as far as taking small getaway trips with her part-time almost lovers, but they were never relationships — never anything more than two people exclusively going out with each other whenever she didn't want to be on her own.
She doesn't ever purposefully start the game, but once it's being played, she has a full intention on finishing it. She enjoys the adventure and the freedom that comes with the what are we phase. It's the very moment that they ask if they could ever be anything more, however, that all of her interest is lost. She comes up with the same bullshit excuse every time — I'm sorry, but I just got out of a pretty nasty relationship, and I'm not entirely sure if I'm ready for that yet.
She always does end up feeling really bad about ending things, though, even though she doesn't show that kind of vulnerability to anybody but herself. It's screwed up and she knows it, but she just can't help it. There's always something that's not right — always something that's just not there.
Plus, where's the fun in relationships? All couples do is fight and argue and end up miserably bound together by law, anyways. That's all she's ever seen, all she's ever been around, and she doesn't want any part of it.
No obligations. No loyalty. No attachments. That's how she likes it.
Lonnie, however, not so much.
Lonnie is still healing from it all. He loves Y/n more than his heart can handle — so much so it physically hurts to look at her now, now that he's seen all of her and seen her in such a different way than he ever has before.
He thought it was different between them. He thought Y/n would be different, because all of the guys she brought home were new — ones she'd just met, ones she'd never had the chance to really know before becoming exclusive with them. But he had known Y/n for years, and maybe, that was all she needed — someone who she knew, that knew her, so she didn't have to be so afraid.
But fuck, did it really screw him over. Bad. Because he really, really, really thought it could work between them. He had done everything right — had done everything he was supposed to do — just to end up like every other guy on her list. And he really couldn't be mad at her, because he should have known better. If anything, he was mad at himself.
And he's even more mad at himself three months later, finding himself still thinking about her every single chance he gets. He's just breaking his own damn heart thinking it's something that could ever be, being stuck on a phase that only lasted a couple of weeks, but she's the most beautiful woman he's ever laid his eyes on, and he couldn't imagine his heart being invested in anything or anybody else.
He could never tell Y/n, though, because even though she comes off as a real bitch, her heart is constantly hurting. And if she found out just how badly she had hurt Lonnie, she'd never be able to live with herself, and he couldn't, either.
-
Lonnie's about five shots in when Y/n and the rest of their friends walk into the bar.
Lonnie had been out drinking with his friend he had just met the other night. Harry was cool, and probably one of the easiest people to hold a conversation with. He had moved to town not too long ago and figured he'd make a great addition to the rest of his friend group.
Besides, it's been a while since any of them had made new friends. They've all grown up with the same people, and nobody else decides to move to a place like this — where the only places that are open past nine o'clock are a select couple of bars and a diner at the far end of town.
It'll be something different, and Harry seems like he'd fit into any crowd thrown at him.
When Lonnie's friends approach the pool table, half of them already seeming quite tipsy, Lonnie wastes no time to introduce Harry to everyone. He does it one by one, making sure he gets everybody's names, considering their friend group is quite large for a small town like this.
Harry's warm and welcoming to everyone he meets, which is no surprise to anybody. He seems grounded and humble — really put together for somebody who had made such a big move. Plus, Harry has always been good at first impressions.
Y/n is the last person Lonnie introduces Harry to.
"Harry, this is Y/n. And Y/n, this is Harry."
Neither of them knew it, but both of their hearts stopped beating.
Harry is the first to stick his hand out, however, with a smile so warm Y/n swears she can feel something flutter in her chest. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n."
She has never seen eyes so green, and hair so soft, and lips so full. His accent, too, is so smooth she swears she could bury herself in it if she could. What a man like Harry is doing in a place like this, she'll never understand.
She coughs a bit, pushing everything she felt down to the pit of her stomach before taking his hand in hers. "It's nice to meet you, too, Harry."
-
Y/n and Harry sit across from each other the rest of the night. She doesn't talk much, as usual, but even more so now that her head can't shut up about how good this Harry looks. She's really trying to keep her eyes off of him, but it’s just too damn hard when he keeps talking and talking and talking. He's getting along so well with everybody and she doesn't exactly know how to feel about it.
Especially with her best friend, Bentley, and it makes her want to rip her goddamn ears out of her head. They're both just so loud and laughing just a bit too much for her own sanity and she swears to fuck if she sees him look at her one more time she's going to -
"What about you, Y/n?"
And suddenly, the whole table has their eyes on her. She almost feels like she's been caught red handed, because she's barely stopped looking at Harry and they definitely took notice in her lingering gaze now that everybody's suddenly paying attention to her. And to make matters worse, she became so lost in her thoughts that she hasn't been paying attention to a word anybody has been saying.
She coughs awkwardly again, looking down at her lap pretending to adjust the end of her shirt.
"What about what?" She asks without a trace of emotion.
Harry giggles. "Do you have one? A boyfriend?"
God, please say no.
Normally, that kind of question doesn't faze her. Usually, she'll brush it off and answer as honestly as she could without seeming like a coldhearted bitch that doesn't believe in love (and it's not that she doesn't believe in love, she just doesn't believe in love for her — but nobody else could ever understand that, even if they tried). But when Harry asks, for some reason, it makes her nervous. And for a moment, she's at a loss as to what she could say.
She ends up shaking her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before crossing her arms over her chest. "No. I haven't had one in a while, actually."
And Lonnie doesn't know why he does it - it could be the alcohol, it could be because he was so outrageously jealous that Y/n couldn't take her eyes off of Harry all night — but he fucks up… bad. Really bad. So bad that he genuinely feels like Y/n could never forgive him for it.
"In a while? Please, try ever. She wouldn't know what commitment was if it slapped her in the fucking face."
With just once sentence, for the first time tonight, nobody at the table had anything to say.
Y/n had such a mix of emotions she didn't know what to do with herself. A part of her wanted to cry, but she'd curse herself everyday for the rest of her life if she decided to be emotional in a room full of people. Another part of her wanted to scream, but that would mean drawing attention to herself and the situation, and that's the last thing she wants.
Really, if she had the choice, she'd disappear and forget entirely about her existence.
Rather, the only thing she does is look at Harry - who has his eyebrows raised in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape, gaze fixed on the table right before her. And just that alone makes her feel so humiliated. So disgusting and so horribly, horribly mortified to ever show her face to him ever again.
And Lonnie really is sorry. Fuck, there are no words to express how painful it is for him to see Y/n sitting in her seat looking so small, so helpless, with tears building in her eyes that she probably doesn't even realize are there — all because of him. All because the sight of her looking at anybody else other than him makes him want to rip his entire fucking heart out.
All she did was look at Harry, all night. It was killing him with every passing second. And he knows he shouldn't have made a fool out of her, especially in front of Harry, but he just wanted her to stop fucking looking at him.
"Y/n.." Lonnie whispers brokenly, "Love, I'm so sorry, I —"
Before Lonnie can finish his apology, Y/n stands up from her seat so fast her chair makes a god-awful noise against the hardwood floor. "I think I should go home now." She gulps, pathetically attempting to muster up everything built inside of her as she grabs her jacket from the back of her chair.
She refuses to make eye contact with anybody at the table as she makes her way to the door. She only makes it a couple of feet away from the table before she feels an all too familiar hand land on her shoulder.
"Y/n, please."
She rolls her eyes as she turns to face Lonnie, her hand reaching to push his hand off of her shoulder because there's nothing he can do to fix this, and she fucking hates being touched.
"You know what your problem is?!" Y/n snaps, making Lonnie's eyes widen at the unexpected outburst. "You just can't handle the fact that I don't have feelings for you! It kills you knowing that you can't be with me because I don't need you! I never did! I didn't before, I didn't when we were fucking, and I don't now! Maybe I wouldn't know what commitment was if it slapped me in the face because I don't need anybody but myself! And I certainly don't fucking need anybody like you to call my boyfriend!"
Her fists are at her sides and her face is as red as can be, nose flared as she takes deep breaths to hold herself back from saying something she doesn't mean. Because even though he stooped too fucking low with her, she'd never want to make him feel the way she's feeling in this very moment.
When her eyes drift away from his, she realizes that everyone at the bar is looking at them. And although this really was the last thing she wanted, she's so beyond hurt and angry that she doesn't even seem to care anymore.
She lets out a dry laugh. "Show's over. I'm fucking out of here."
She takes one last look at Lonnie before she turns her back towards him to make her way out the front door. And it isn't until the hit of the chilling air that she realizes two things: she has tears streaming down her face and she has absolutely no way of getting home.
Bentley was her ride here. But she was also everybody else's ride here, and since Y/n was the one who walked out, there's no way in hell she'd leave everybody else behind just because Lonnie decided to make a bitch out of her.
She kicks the side of the building, a loud "fuck!" falling past her lips as she stands and shivers in her place. She needs to call a cab but she needs to put herself back together before she dares makes herself known, which she feels like isn't going to happen for a while.
She's humiliated. She's hurt. She feels so small and stupid and all she wants is to go home.
She faces toward the street as loud, pitiful sobs leave her lips. She's got her face buried in her hands because she's too ashamed for the world to see it, as stupid as it sounds.
She just can't help but feel dirty, like she's something she's not. She's not somebody who just goes around, sleeping with guys and breaking their hearts because she likes it. And knowing that Lonnie feels that way about her, and made it known to the whole fucking bar, makes her feel like she's worth nothing.
Y/n's nearly done crying her goddamn eyes out when she feels yet another hand on her shoulder, but this time, it isn't familiar.
"Y/n."
She's quick to wipe the tears from her eyes before turning her head to where Harry is standing, with a small pout on his lips and regret in his eyes. "Hey, Harry." She smiles weakly, even though she's really, really embarrassed to face him after what happened. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
His heart is aching for her, seeing her this way. She's so misunderstood, he can physically feel it — how different she is from any other woman in the room. That's why he couldn't stand the idea of her walking away. She deserves someone who wants her, for her, and not because they want to change her to be somebody else.
And Lonnie especially doesn't deserve her. Fuck no. Not after the shit he just pulled back there. It was so wrong on so many more levels than one, and it breaks his heart that she feels the need to apologize for anything that happened tonight. All he wants to do is stay by her side for the rest of the night to make sure she's okay, and to be there for her if she isn't — since nobody else had come after her.
"No, Y/n. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you if you had a boyfriend. It wasn't right of me, and it wasn't any of my business. I had just noticed you weren't talking much, and I just wanted to include you, is all."
His fingers start to twist at the ends of her hair, and Y/n doesn't understand why it's not pissing her off the way it should — the way it would if it were anybody else. But there's something so calming about him, so alluring, and she hates the unfamiliarity of it.
She wants him off, yet her body does nothing to push him away.
Instead, she sighs, fluttering her eyes closed as she shakes her head. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. I didn't know, either — that Lonnie was going to make me seem like a total bitch." She presses her lips into a line. "Look… it's not that I don't want to commit to someone, it's just — it's not.."
Y/n huffs because she doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know if she can say it because it doesn't even make much sense, why she does the things she does. And she doesn't know why the hell she feels the need to explain herself for it, either.
"Hey," Harry whispers, his hands on both of her shoulders now. "We don't need to talk about this. How are you getting home?"
Y/n leans her back against the outside of the bar, looking down at her fingers playing with the ends of her hair, where Harry's just were. "Guess I'm not." She mumbles. "Bentley was my ride."
Harry pouts, his eyebrows creasing just trying to figure out how anybody could leave somebody like her, like this.
And it's clear she doesn't want to be here. She wouldn't have left if she did, and she would have gone back inside if she thought of any other way of getting home. But clearly, she's stuck on this sidewalk until she either finds somebody else to drive her, or until she musters enough energy to just walk it.
But he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight knowing he left her by herself, and he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight not knowing if she's going to be okay. Because as weird as it sounds, he already cares more about her than he's cared about anybody in a while.
"Look, why don't I drive you home, yeah? I don't want you to go back in there like this, but I don't want to leave you out here alone, either. 'Sides, it's the least I could do for you right now."
-
Y/n should have never accepted Harry to drive her home.
What a stupid, stupid, stupid mistake. What was she, a maniac? A goddamn lunatic? Because now it's three days after meeting Harry at the bar and he's all she can think about. Because he fell asleep next to her that night, all coddled in his arms, and she hasn't been able to sleep the same since.
She never minded sleeping alone. In fact, she preferred it that way, she always has. She liked having the space, the solitude. She hated sleeping next to somebody else because they were always all over her, and all she wanted to do was breathe without somebody else breathing down her neck.
But Harry… Harry was different. He was warm, his touches so soft she almost didn't even feel him there. But he was, the whole night, and Y/n didn't want him to leave the next morning.
Of course, she didn't tell him that. She didn't mention them sleeping together at all, actually. But that's all she wanted to talk about, to everyone. She had half the mind to call Bentley the next morning and tell her everything that happened with Harry, but she knew that if she did, it would have been made such a bigger deal than it was. Because it was just sleeping together, right?
But it's three days later and Y/n just can't stop thinking about how good he felt beside her.
And now she's laying in her bed, desperate, like a pathetic little girl without her teddy bear. And all she wants to do is call the number he had given her that night and beg him to coddle her back to sleep. But how the hell is she going to ask him so late at night, when they haven't spoken to each other since?
Little does she know that Harry feels the same way.
Sleeping next to Y/n was probably the most comforting feeling he's had in a while. She fit into him so perfectly, filled in all the gaps so that there was absolutely no space between them, and let him hold her to him through all the hours of the night.
She's unlike anybody he's ever met — the way she smiles, the sound of her laugh, the feeling of her skin against him — it was all so intoxicating and addicting. Not a single part of him wanted to let go, no matter how stupid it was of him to feel that way after just one night of meeting.
But could he have helped it? Probably not. Because it felt so right, even though it was so wrong. And with each night that passed by since, he prayed she'd ask him to spend another night with her. Because how could he ever sleep the same after sleeping with her, when it felt so good?
That's why when he got a text from an unfamiliar number at 11:42 saying, "Hey, Harry. It's Y/n. Would you want to stay the night again?", his heart nearly stops beating.
This is everything he's been waiting for, for the past 72 hours and he almost doesn't believe his eyes. How could she even ask if it's something he wanted? Sleeping beside her again was everything he needed right now, and more.
Not even caring if it seems desperate, Harry is quick to reply. "It's like you've read my mind. I'll be there soon, love."
He wastes no time to get together everything he needs. And it's not even like he needs much, but he doesn't know how long she wants him to stay and he needs to be fully prepared for anything she has in mind.
He slips on his shoes before making his way out the door. And most of the time, whenever he's driving somewhere new in an unfamiliar place, it takes his brain a couple of moments to remember exactly where he needs to go. But when it comes to Y/n's apartment, he doesn't need anything.
He knows exactly where he's going the moment he's behind the wheel. What makes it even better is that she doesn't live too far from him, either, so by the time he gets to her place, it's barely past midnight.
Somewhere along the way, Y/n had answered him telling him that she had left her front door unlocked, so he didn't have to bother knocking. Which is exactly what he does.
He opens her front door softly, creeping in as quietly as he can before shutting and locking the door behind him. He slips off his shoes before making his way to her bedroom.
When he opens the door to her room, Y/n is laying on her side with her arms crossed over her chest and a pout on her face. And Harry's heart melts at the sight of it, because she looks so damn cute and inviting and his arms are practically twitching at the thought of holding her again.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Is the first thing she says, and Harry looks at her in wonder. "I couldn't sleep."
Without you.
He places his overnight bag silently on the floor beside her door, his eyes not once breaking away from her. He walks over to his side of the bed with a small smile on his face as Y/n lifts the duvet up for him to crawl in beside her.
He lays with his chest against her back as his arms find their way around her torso. They both move closer together, adjusting their limbs, until they find a position that's just as comfortable as they remember. "It's okay, love," he whispers against her ear, his thumbs rubbing against her skin, "I couldn't either."
For the first couple of minutes, they lay there in silence, embracing each other and the moment because they've missed it for so long, and they want to soak it all up until Harry needs to leave in the morning - something they both can't fathom to think about.
And when he leaves, will he come back to her? Will he text her whenever his day is done and ask to spend the rest of it with her, on her tiny bed, with his arms exactly where they are now?
Y/n hates that she cares so much, but she does. She cares a bit too much. She doesn't want to spend another god-awful night alone, towns away from Harry, when he could be here, with her. Even if all it is, is sleeping with each other, she wants it every single night and she doesn't want it to stop.
"Why did you do it?"
She doesn't mean to ask, but it comes out anyways. She whispers it, so lightly Harry almost misses it. But he could never miss a word she says, no matter what.
"Why did I do what, darling?"
Despite practically melting where she is, Y/n rolls over until she's looking directly into Harry's eyes. And she silently prays he doesn't hear her breath hitch in the back of her throat.
He's so perfect, it physically hurts her. Everything about him is beyond anything she could have ever imagined. He just doesn't make sense to her. She feels everything else in this world is out to do harm — out to hurt her, out to play with her emotions, push her over the edge — but not Harry.
For the first time in her life, she feels like she's finally found something good. And she doesn't know what to do now that she has.
Her fingers run along the nape of his neck.
"Why did you sleep with me that night? You didn't know me."
If Harry didn't know any better, he'd think she's only asking because she didn't want it — because it was too soon, because it was too far, because it wasn't her. But when he sees the look in her eyes, like it was something she couldn't believe, he knows it's so much deeper than that.
"I know I didn't know you, but I wanted to try."
He runs his fingers along the sides of her face, rubbing softly at her temples, and Y/n's eyes shutter closed at the warmth of it.
"I didn't want you to spend the night alone, and I didn't want to spend the night with anybody else."
Y/n hums, her eyes still closed as she pushes her face further against Harry's skin.
It's so unlike her, to be this close and comfortable with somebody. But she can't hold herself back. Her body just keeps gravitating towards him and she feels like she has no control. No matter how far she is from him, or how long they go without speaking to one another, she found a way to be with him again.
She has a feeling it won't be the last time she does so.
"Did you not want me to? Did you not enjoy it?"
The last thing Harry could have wanted out of this was to push her too far. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, or make her feel obligated to carry it on. And although he feels in his heart that that's not the case, he wants to make sure. Because out of all the things he's screwed up, he doesn't want to make this one of them.
The question alone makes her heart break.
He's pouting and he has a look on his face like her answer could make or break him. And the first thing she thinks about doing is kissing away his doubts and telling him that if she truly didn't enjoy it, she would have never reached out to him for another night of it. But she can't, she really, really can't, because that's too much.
Instead, she places the pads of her fingers against his cheek and rubbing her thumb against the corner of his mouth.
She swears she can feel her fingertips tingle as she does so.
"Are you serious, Harry?" She whispers, looking at him in bewilderment. "You're all I've been thinking about since that night. How could I — how could it not have been special to me?"
His heart is swelling. He can feel it, everywhere — how different they are together.
And god, he really doesn't want to think about all that he's heard about her commitment issues because he doesn't want to get hurt - not by her. All he wants is to protect her and cuddle her and kiss her and tell her that she deserves so much more than she's ever been given.
But he's terrified she won't let him, and he's terrified that she will let him just to move onto somebody else that could do all that for her, too. But they could never do it like him.
Y/n knows it, too. She knows she's never felt this way about somebody, and she knows she never will again.
-
They spend the rest of the night holding each other, noses touching, hands wandering, and sleeping without letting each other go.
-
Harry's spent every night with her since.
It's been three weeks now, all still fresh and new, but they feel like they've known each other forever.
Y/n has dinner ready upon his every arrival — a new dish every night, a glass of wine, and a small dessert picked from the local bakery. And once all the food is finished and the wine starts to settle in, they talk at her kitchen table for hours.
What they enjoy most is that there's never a dull moment between them. No matter what the topic of conversation is, or how many times they've talked about it, they're always finding a way to make each other laugh. Whether it's through Harry's shitty, god-awful jokes, or Y/n's dry humor, they make the most out of each and every night they spend together.
And once their jaws start to get tight and their eyes get heavy, they crawl into her bed and tangle between each other even closer than the night before.
And it's so perfect. Everything about it makes sense and feels right, but there's only one problem that seems to be getting in the way of it all.
Nobody knows.
It's killing the both of them, really. Because when they're not together, they're all each other can think about and all they want to talk about. But Y/n can't find the courage to tell any of her friends because she knows she'd never hear the end of it, and Harry can't tell anybody, either, because her friends are now his friends and he could never do anything to make her uncomfortable.
But it's hard, and it gets harder every night they're with their friends.
It's hard for Harry, because he genuinely believes Y/n is his other half. There was always apart of him that felt incomplete — lost, almost — and the only person to have ever made him feel so whole was Y/n. And he just wants to show her off, all proud, and call her his for as long as she'll have him for.
And it's especially hard for Y/n, considering she feels empty without being beside him. And he's the only person she ever wants to talk to, no matter where she is or who she's with, all she ever wants is Harry. And her skin aches whenever it’s not touching his.
And it's even harder for her, now, when a woman is blatantly making eyes at him from across the bar.
She couldn't be making it more obvious even if she tried. And to make it worse, Harry is completely oblivious to it. He's talking to everyone at the table, as he usually is, sitting right beside Y/n, and he has no idea there's another woman desperately trying to get his attention.
It's driving her fucking crazy. She doesn't even know what to do with herself, and she doesn't even know if there's anything she can do other than watch somebody else drooling over her Harry, imagining her Harry in ways only Y/n should imagine him, begging her Harry for something he can only give Y/n.
Her heart is racing, her blood boiling, teeth grinding and she has half the fucking mind to just grab Harry's face and smash his lips against hers in front of this whole fucking bar just to show who he belongs to and -
"Baby," Harry whispers against her ear, bringing Y/n back from whatever the hell just took over her, "you're squeezin' a bit too tight, don't you think?"
Her head snaps in his direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she watches Harry smirk at her, an amused look in his eye and she genuinely has no idea what he's trying to say.
Without waiting for her to reply, Harry's eyes divert to his hand that's been laying on her knee the whole night, and when Y/n follows his direction, she notices her hand is wrapped tightly around his. So tight, in fact, that her knuckles are white and the ends of Harry's fingers are much more red than usual.
And Y/n doesn't know what to say for herself. She's never reached for his hand — she's never done anything with Harry besides sleep beside him. That's all it ever was - sleeping together - until now.
Until she finds herself grabbing ahold of his hand whenever she gets jealous. Until she does get jealous, over somebody that isn't even hers. Until the thought of Harry being with another girl makes her want to pistol aim her fist into a wall.
Until this very moment, when she realizes she loves Harry.
She doesn't know much about love — if anything, at all — but if she could imagine it to be anything, it'd be this.
An addiction. A drug. A feeling so strong, there are no real words to explain it.
A skip in your heart. A kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach. A feeling so true, everything else seems like a deception. Except your lover.
And that's when every wall she's ever built around herself begins to crumble — when everything she's been holding back comes to the surface so hard, her whole body grows numb.
The amused smirk is wiped off of Harry's face as soon as he sees the state of her.
She's pale, her eyes wide, still looking at their intertwined hands with tears falling silently from her eyes.
Harry is quick to bring his other hand to her cheek, wiping away the wetness because he knows she wouldn't want anybody else to see her this way.
"Baby, what the hell?" He whispers to her, letting go of her hand to place it against the small of her back. "Why are you crying? Did I do somethin' wrong?"
She's hyperventilating in the midst of a full-blown panic attack and she swears if she doesn't get out of here within the next five seconds, she's going to collapse. And at this point, she isn't so sure if being around Harry is going to make it better or worse.
If she is around Harry, she's going to be reminded of everything she's never believed in and everything she hasn't prepared herself for. But if she isn’t around Harry, she's going to miss him and feel even worse than she does now.
She just doesn't know what to do. She doesn't even know how to breathe. It's all just so much, so scary and intimidating and too fucking much.
She can't love Harry. She can't love anybody. She can't. She can't fall in love just to watch it all fall apart. She can't love Harry just to lose him, just to hurt him, just to have her end up alone.
She just can't do it.
"Harry." She sobs, lips twitching and voice thick.
Out of all the times she's ever ended something, this is proving to be the hardest one yet. She could never imagine herself truly ending things with Harry, it just doesn't feel right to do so. He's hers, whether he knows it or not or whether the world knows it or not, Harry is hers.
Harry is hers to hold, to cuddle with, to hold hands with whenever she needs reassurance. Harry is her secret, her little baby to keep in her pocket at all times.
She just can't love him. She can't.
He has a look on his face like he knows what's about to come. He's heard all about it — the games she plays, the cycle of her relationships, all doomed for disaster. He's been around her friends long enough to know that Y/n doesn't commit, Y/n doesn't fall in love, Y/n doesn't need anybody but herself.
But it's all so wrong. It's been right, and it's been true, until now.
And if he could just understand that she's only doing this because running away is all she knows how to do, then maybe, he'll find it in his heart to come back to her.
She just needs time.
"Y/n, please don't." He croaks out, nearly begs, so shamelessly and helplessly.
By now, the entire table is silent and watching the disaster this night has turned into. All in shock, all unknowing of everything that has lead to this very moment.
All because of her.
He never imagined it'd get here. He really didn't think Y/n would up and leave like she did everyone else. And it’s not that he wanted her to change who she was, or adjust herself to fit perfectly into Harry's love life, he just really thought she felt it, too.
He thought it was different. Because of the way she looks at him. Because she absentmindedly grabs ahold of his hand and completely forgets that she's even doing it. Because she hasn't spent a night without him in a while. Because in her sleep, she mumbles things she'd never say to him when he's awake.
And he can't just fucking lose her. He can't. He doesn't ever want to go back home. He doesn't ever want to look for something he can only find in Y/n in another woman. He doesn't ever want to spend a night, alone, without her ever fucking again.
He loves her and he wants to continue to love her, and he wants to love her until he falls in love with her and can finally make her his.
How did he ever let it get here?
"I'm so sorry." She sobs again. "I just — I can't do this right now."
-
It's three hours later and Y/n can't shake the feeling of regret from inside of her.
It wasn't fair — what she did — and she knows it. Because Harry deserves so much better than to be left like he meant absolutely nothing to her. When in reality, he was her everything, and it was killing her from the inside out not knowing how to cope with it.
To love Harry the way she does is dangerous for her, because it gets to her head. It consumes her, so much so that everything else around her seems completely meaningless. And that's the problem — that's why she ran away, because if she lets it get any deeper than that — any harder than that - she's going to be so completely lost whenever he's not around.
All her life, all she had ever needed was herself. Now, all she needs is Harry.
How the hell is that not supposed to scare her?
But it wasn't until two and a half hours of feeling cold in her bed, reaching for a Harry that wasn't beside her, and crying to his favorite song, did she realize something else.
She can't live without him.
Harry is worth it. He's worth all the fears, all the risks — he's worth every ounce of doubt inside of her because that's what love is.
It's terrifying. It's soul-shaking. It's a fall without an air catcher. It’s holding their hand so that they don't have to face the world alone. It’s accepting all the bad, all the good, all the flaws that come along with them. It's being by their side no matter how hard it becomes.
And if Y/n is willing to sacrifice herself for anybody, it's Harry.
Which is why she's here — hopelessly standing outside of Harry's apartment door at two in the morning.
Her hands are shaking, her tongue is tied, and her brain is scrambling with the million and one things she wants to tell him whenever he opens the door. If she has to get on her knees and beg, sob, offer her own fucking blood, then she will — if that's what it takes.
She knocks on his door as quietly as she can, praying to God it’s loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to piss him off. She knows how important sleep is to him, and if she does something else to ruin his night, she'll never find it in her heart to forgive herself.
It only takes about thirty seconds for Harry to open the door.
He's shirtless, sweatpants clad loosely around his legs, hair all disheveled — just how she loves him most.
"Y/n?" He asks in disbelief.
"Harry," Y/n breathes out, her tense shoulders slumping down as she can physically feel all of the weight come off of them. "I really need to talk to you."
She gently pushes past his shoulders, her body making its way to his bedroom, and that's when his blood runs cold.
He flings his body haphazardly beside hers, his hands quick to grab ahold of her shoulders in hopes to keep her in her place. He's panicking and he needs to come up with something, fast. He needs to get her out of this damn, stupid apartment as fast as he can before anything else gets screwed up.
"You know what, Y/n?" Harry pants, his hands scrambling to push her back towards the door from where she's standing, "we don't have to do this right now, yeah? You go and get some rest and we can talk about it in the morning. Just go home, right now. Go home and we can figure this all out before -"
"But you don't understand, Harry!" Y/n whines, her hands fighting back with his because why the fuck is he pushing her away so much? Why the hell is he trying so hard to kick her out when all she wants to do is tell him how sorry he is and how much she loves him? "I really, really need to talk to you! And you can't push me away like I pushed you away, I won't let it!"
She manages to escape from Harry's desperate hands, a small huff leaving her nose as she walks past him again.
And Harry knows he stands no chance. Harry knows that he just made this — everything — so much fucking worse and there's nothing he can do to change it. He's on the verge of sobbing, hitting his hands against his knees — on the verge of entirely breaking down the second he sees her hand reach for his bedroom door.
And what she sees when she opens it leaves her brokenhearted for the first time in her entire life.
There, sleeping softly upon Harry's bed, is a woman.
And not just any woman. It's the same woman who was making eyes at him at the bar not just four hours ago — the same woman that made Y/n realize she loves Harry, the same woman that she was oh, so jealous of, the same woman that's been making her sick to her stomach all night.
Her clothes are thrown across the floor, upon the bed — just everywhere — mocking and laughing at Y/n for ever letting herself feel the way she does.
Y/n is frozen still and Harry is watching it all happen, with pitiful tears falling from his eyes. And he knows there's nothing he can do, or say, to fix the mess he's made.
But he tries anyways. Fuck, does he try because it was just a stupid, drunken mistake. It was a stupid mistake fueled by heartbreak — a mistake he made under the belief that Y/n didn't want him the way he wanted her, and he didn't know how to cope with it.
Whoever the fuck she is, she's no Y/n. She's absolutely nothing other than a regret, but Y/n doesn't know that. And he isn't so sure if Y/n would ever believe it.
He breaks the agonizing silence with a sob. A sob so broken, so hoarse, it makes Y/n flinch.
"Baby —”
But before he could even begin his pathetic apology, Y/n's walks out on him the second time tonight.
#Harry Styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles preferences#one direction#one direction fanfiction#one direction one shots#one direction imagines
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TERFs are wrong. But, so are social constructionist Gender Theorists
You know it is not a question of one extreme or the other. As much as both like to think they are morally right and have “the science” on their side, they don’t. Both are god damned annoying, totalitarian, and are interpreting reality and what that means in order to browbeat and push others, both socially and legally, towards doing things based on what those mean.
Both are trying to control the parameters of all things based on the fundamentals by their interpretation of reality, not by the objective facts. Both are wrong.
TERFs are not wrong in that someone that is born with XY chromosomes and a standard male sex conforming body is male, and you need dysphoria in order to be trans. They are not wrong that your gender is not just a wily nily purely social construct.
They are, however, wrong about absolutely everything else regarding what those genders MEAN, where they’re derived from and why they were derived that way.
And the social constructionists aren’t wrong in that we should make exceptions to the biological rule for people with transgenderist disorders of the mind and brain. But, they are wrong in that so many are totalitarian. They do not want these exceptions to be exceptions, they want the very basis and fundamental understanding, how we define gender and sex, to change to be based not on biological empiricism, facts or truth, but by legal and social oughts and things they argue “should be held true else it demoralizes and oppresses a minority.”
There are not, “millions of genders.” There’s your basic standard assed functioning, and then there’s a disorder we otherwise can’t do anything with or about right now where it’d simply more healthy for everybody around if we let them live with the identity that is in their minds and body.
Furthermore, the nonbinarist movement needs to stop being such a cowardly little bitch and argue for itself outside the umbrella of trans rights, because it sits there demanding changes and exceptions and validations be made for it on the basis of bowing to trans rights, when it itself hasn’t stepped out of its parasitic sphere to fight for any on its own. Strategically using trans rights as a platform for both offensive and defensive purposes.
TERFs, up to now, have been virtually unchallengable because, “you must be a horrible right wing fundamentalist religious monster to oppose EQUALITY for WOMEN!” And they’ve just skirted on that since the 60s. Which was absolute hell trying to convince anybody that radical feminism was nonsense and harbored deep, authoritarian bends on takes with social ramifications. Yall were in their corner when they were talking about how, “society” needed to give women, exclusively, help to go to college because of past oppressions. But when someone tried to tell you they had weird obsessions with vaginas and using them as rubber stamps for whom gets special treatment and privileges and exceptions to defaults that make men do dirty work and women get clean pay? Deafening silence.
But the minute TERFs don’t want transwomen in their magical witch girl’s clubs, fucking with the cosmology? Ohho they’re visible now. You can see their bullshit now. They’re weirdos drawing female symbols and self-portraits with menstrual blood and making hacky poems about their uterus, now. They’re bad people now. You can actually see they weren’t, “being hyperbolic” or “just venting about the evil MEN around them” now. Hahahahaa. Hilarious.
TERFs are wrong. Point blank. But so are the social constructionist extremists and postmodernists behind the appropriated bandwagon of what calls itself the trans rights and nonbinarist rights movement in the west. The basis for which they’ve defined their norms is not one of reality, but “oughts” and “should be’s” and “must bes” and “or else”s. To the point where they invented a slur specifically to denounce those that do not share their view. “Bioessentialist.”
That makes as much sense as calling someone a dirty, “bioessentialist” because they say you need to be an elephant, to be an elephant. Yes, you do need the physical, biological characteristics to really BE that which you aspire to be. No, you don’t get to redefine what an elephant is to force the elephant to “identify” as an elephant so something that is not an elephant can also be an elephant.
If misgendering someone is triggering for a minority, it’s just as triggering when you deny someone’s sexuality or gender when they’re hetero and cis. And many are repulsed by the idea that the reason they’re compatible with their sex and gender conformation is because they, “made a choice.” For that matter, if you’re actually transgendered and not some bandwagoneering asshole, being trans isn’t a choice either. It’s a psychological and neurological impossibility to be anything else, not a lifestyle, not a hobby, not a “preferred state of mind.” Arguing anything else is arguing not for trans rights, but for psycho-social dominance in law.
And if you think misgendering someone that’s transgendered is bad, people that make up at MOST, 0.7% of the human species, and some say as few as 0.3% of the human species (people with cleft lips, born missing limbs and more are born more often) then what the FUCK do you think it is, redefining the identities and realities of 99.3% to 99.7% of the human animal, not to mention how every other animal works? (not counting some exceptions like clownfish.)
Gender is not, wholly, a social construct. It’s a derivative and pluto’s shadow from SEX. SEX is not psychological. Sex is not negotiable. Sex is biological and disease can make it express incorrectly or correctly to function as intended by natural selection. Gender is only a social construct in that some cultures have assigned thoughts and characteristics and responsibilities for people on the basis of said sexual role. That’s it.
But people that try to live purely in the psychological sphere or argue that sphere belongs in the dominant position for mankind try to argue it’s the only one that really matters, and while we’re at it, lets let the minority dictate what is normal and rational and good. So their believe gender as feelings supersedes sex as reality.
And why would they argue this? Because they’re, “just such big fans of trans rights?” No. Because they hate disparity and immutable, biological difference. And so want to use the arbitration of human law and culture to marginalize it and pretend it doesn’t exist- to where using technology to circumvent it and the penal system to enforce that view seems like a reasonable, moral thing to strive for. Trans rights for these people have always just been a nice coat of paint to put their real activism under.
And the biggest bitch of it all is, Radical Feminists and Trans Inclusive Radical Feminists and Social Constructionists all receive their marching orders from the same ideology. The same stupid take that says bugger reality, live in a communal fantasy and enforce everybody else to live in it, too. Else they’re a bad person. Else they’re a fascist. They merely differ in the rules and the fundamental parameters.
Know the difference between, “this person is bad and they should be shamed for their beliefs because they are bad,” and, “This person is bad because they’re sitting on a throne that I want to sit on as is rightfully mine.” TIRFs don’t hate TERFs because they’re wrong, they hate them because they’re in the middle of a power grab.
But we have the opportunity to end this “Critical Lens” shitshow forever. Both sides are exposed and showing their true colors as terrible ideologies and people. Both sides are showing their totalitarianism in the form of competitive propaganda and using the legal system to get their way based on past manipulations and exploitations they got from lying to a public that didn’t want to be misogynistic or prejudiced against the transgender.
All it takes is connecting the dots and understanding just how and why it’s not a matter of “bitter evil borderline-conservative Karens Vs. noble oppressed transgenders.”
TERFs are fucking NOT conservatives. They’re typically the same far-left assholes as the TIRFs. They differ ONLY in that they believe critical theory fucking STOPS at the immutable reality of biological sex, because they stand to lose dominance if it’s not immutable- so they demand it be CONSIDERED immutable. Their status as oppressed inherently, hinges on it.
So that’s it then. You’re left with no real heroes in this fight. But if you take anything away from what I’m telling you today, it’s that you can argue legally for trans rights. Just, on the basis as exception to the biological basis, as has been proven. Asterisks. Hyphens. Acknowledging the reality that the existence of the transgendered does not negate the reality of biological sex, nor those whose genders are a direct result of their biological sex as the norm.
It’s not bigotry to sexually discriminate to some degrees. When dealing with subjectives, it’s a matter of argument. When dealing with biological realities and imperatives, opinion is irrelevant to the self-evident realities, and interpretation matters less than the reality.
But to those that believe any discrimination based on physical differences or state is inherently wrong, just the idea of male and female being two different, named things, (”classes”, if you will) with different, “unequal” functions and capacity, fills them with rage.
Your moralism stops where nature begins. Period.
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hi! i was wondering if i could request sth. it would be stanley barber w/ angst prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.” but like with a cute/fluffy ending thank you!!!
Like a movie - Stanley Barber x reader
a\n: so this is defently not my best piece, but oh well. ya’ll should request him more often so i can practice writing for him cause i’ve yet to come up with a good one i actually like.
trigger wornings: reader feels unworthy, cussing, also spoilers for Princess Bride kinda?? like i’m just queting the end scene but it dosen’t ruin the plot so it’s fine.
word count: 1854
---
It has been a month since homecoming. After Bradley's head blew up, everyone left the gym, but I was too shocked to move. "(y\n), right?" a curly haired boy asked me, and his hand carefully touched my shoulder to wake me out of my freeze. He had a notebook in one hand, and It was slightly covered in blood.
"what up, Westinghouse!" Jeff Butters called, crossing the stage, "where my boys at?" the crowd cheered. "where do I begin?" he said, "I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-".
Before he finished the sentence, Bradley barged in and took the microphone. "listen up" he caked, and the microphone's feedback rang through the gym. "brad, you can't do that" the principle tried to stop him, but Brad seemed determined. "give me a second" he said, and when the principle tried to drag him off stage he pushed him away, "give me a second!".
"I would like to take this moment" Brad started, "to talk about something very important that affects everyone here". I immediately knew – what he was gonna say matters to no one else but him, and I had a strange feeling like something bad is about to happen/ his tone was so... aggressive, and his eyes priced someone, I just don't know who. "Sydney Novak!" he called. I guess she's the one he was trying to kill with his stare.
"hey Sydney, raise your hand" he said, and that was well enough for me. I hurried to the bathroom, hiding from the horrible situation. The principle Is right there, why is he not trying to stop this? I sat down on the floor. "-she's one hell of a writer" he said, and when I turned around for a second I noticed he's holding up a notebook. This is homecoming, it's supposed to be fun but my only friend ditched me to dance with some guy, and now this. "-but being a full on dyke-" I hear him say, and quickly go back to ignore his voice. I can hear, but I don't listen. don't listen, don't listen, don't listen – "everyone in her life thinks that she is a piece of shit, and I mean everyone" he says. I don't want to listen, this is her fucking diary. That's not my business.
"hey man, leave her alone!". Ducking finally. I should go out there and help her. I don't know her, but someone needs to back that kid up. the kid that is now lying on the floor because he got punched. Shit. I stare at the scene
"but that's not even the weirdest thing about Sydney Novak" Brad goes back to his speech. I get closer as he speaks, hoping to get the boy who stuck up for her away from the crowd of people. "get this, Sydney claims that she has-" he talks, and I'm almost there. Everybody screams as a red fluid rains inside the gum. My now brown-ish dress is covered in the gooey thing as well, and I realize that it's not a punch rain surprise. It's blood.
"it's her diary" the curly haired boy explains to me, "I'm Stanley, and we have to get out of here, come on" he says, and grabs my hand. Then we run. We run so fast, leaving the gym and the crazy thing that we just witnessed behind.
"hey, (y\n)" Stanley smiles at me, offering his hand. I shake it and pulling him into one of those "bro hugs". He laughs and decides to go along. "hey bro, how was history class?" he asks, lowering his voice to sound manly as we started walking to class. "yo, it was cool man, we talked about Hamilton and how he had bitches, what a dope dude, I aspire to be him" I say, lowering my voice as well. He looks at me, smiling, but his eyes said, "what the fuck?". "too much?" I ask in my normal voice. "a bit, yeah, but I'm pretty sure I heard Jeff saying that, so at least you were accurate" he laughs/ I'm taking a step past him and turning my face to him. I walked backwards, praying I won't run into a jock. Ever since homecoming, Sydney, Dina, Stan and I became quite unpopular. I knew the consequences, but they were nice fellas, and I needed some decent people to hang out with. Who cares about popularity when you got loyal friends?
"hey, we're still on for tonight?" I ask him. "of course, I wouldn't miss it for a Bloodwitch concert" he smiles. I give him a look, and he laughs. "okay maybe I will ditch you for Bloodwitch, but come on – it's Bloodwitch, and no offence – but a drive in 80's movie night is just not as awesome" he admits, and I smile. I stop walking. "thank you for coming with, I just really want to go, but going with Sydney and Dina is just kind of awkward, cause they're like… so obviously in love but not official and it's… yeah" I say. "no problem, I'd go anywhere with you" he says, "cause, you know, best friends and all that" he quickly adds, punching my shoulder awkwardly to show that were "bros". see, I made him promise not to fall for me. I'm a mess, and he is so incredible, he just deserves someone better then me. He's funny, and charming and so… open to the world. He tries to be good to everyone and he stays loyal to his morals, and friends, and he's just… shit.
"well, this is my class, bye" I say, going straight to room 405. "bye" Stan calls, waving. Shit, shit, shit. I really like him, huh? I mean I knew I'd have a crush the moment I finally looked at him on that evening, the one that had the nightmare-coming. I obviously noticed he's a good-looking guy, and he was sweet, but what I didn't know is how much. I was also surprised to find out it was not just a crush.
7:00 PM finally arrives. I walk outside, and stan Is already there, which is a surprise since he is famous for his tendency to be late. He is leaning against his car, hands in the pockets of a flowy, creme-colored pants paired with a floral button up. The colors work together well, and that wasn't surprising since he had a touch for fashion – he even had a brown belt to tie the whole thing together. "Hi" I smile at him. "Hi" he returns the smile and moves closer to me for a hug. He wraps his hands around my waist, and I wrap mine around his neck. "He smells nice" I think to myself and break the hug. I'm not falling.
We get to the car and start driving. "Let me hear your voice to bring me down\I'm waiting for your lips to bring me round\My life's shame and sorrow falling back\Lead me from my head down underground" We scream along to Bloodwitch on our way to the drive-in theatre. We finally get there, parking next to Syd and Dina, who borrowed her mom's car. Every pair is sitting on its own car.
The first movie to screen is The Princess Bride. "oh, I love this movie" Dinna says, "it's so sweet". "it's a bit too cliché for me" Syd says, "but it is really good" she adds quickly in order to not upset her not-girlfriend. "I agree with Syd" I say, "Cliché but good". "I'm with Dinna on this one, top 10- no, 5 best 80's movies" Stan joins to the conversation
.By the end of the movie, Stan's hand is hugging my shoulder and I lean onto him. we got popcorn together, and every time our hands met in the carton I blushed. The only thing I could do was hope he didn't notice. "since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure, this one left them all behind" I looked at Syd and Dinna just in time to catch Dinna pulling Syd in for a kiss. Soon enough u noticed every couple did the same. "this is so cli-" I say, turning back to look at Stan, but I don't even get to finish my sentence.Stan's hand cups my cheek, pulling me in. his lips crush against mine, but in the sweetest way imaginable. For a moment I lean into the kiss and return it. No, wait. Shit. "Stan!" I pull away, " I told you not to fall in love with me" I whisper-yell. "remind me again, why?" he asks, his eyes looking down at me with so much sadness. His hand is still on my cheek, but as I talk, he moves it to my shoulder.
"because... look, I'm a mess, Stan. I don't know how to be someone's girlfriend, and I like you and I don't want to hurt you" I say. "don't you think It's my choice?" he says, a bit annoyed. "look, it's really for your best" I insist, but he's not willing to give up just yet."don't you think that this hurt?" he asks. "I don't- see, it's just what I do, I hurt the people I love" I reply, sad smile across my face. "look, (y\n), I'd love to have my heart broken by you. I don't mind getting hurt cause then I'll know we tried, and if you like me back, it's just stupid to ignore it" he replies, and tears are threatening to fall down my cheeks. He really is the sweetest guy I've ever met.
"okay" I say, breaking the silence. "okay what?" Stan asks confused. "fine, you want to try this, you think it's worth it, so... okay" I say. "okay what?" he asks again, hoping for me to say a very specific phrase."okay, I'Il-" I try. I want to say, "be your girlfriend" or "date you", even "try it", but words were never my strong suit, so action it is. My hand grabs his chin and pulls him closer to me, and our lips meet once again."you will be my girlfriend" he completes the sentence for me when we pull away. "sure, yeah".
"thank god, it's about time" Dinna sigh. Syd and her are cuddled up, and Syd has the hugest smile on her face. "oh, like you're the one to talk" I say.
"the next film we are going to screen is back To The Future!" a voice says. "oh, this is the coolest movie-" Syd starts. "An ICONIC movie" I agree with her. "oh, the plot is so weird, it's about a guy who travels back in time and his mom develops a crush on him" Stan disagrees, and Dina is on his side once again. "yeah, and the movie basically says Johnny b Good was made by a white man, that's so fucked up".
If it was a teen movie, the camera will zoom out as a song starts playing for credits. I bet it'd be a Bloodwitch song. Maybe Fly.
#stanley barber#Stanley barber x reader#stanley barber imagine#ianowt#ianowt x reader#i am not okay with this
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Different Worlds (4)
Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.
Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up
Word Count: 2125
A/N: Four chapters in 24 hours? 👀 I also made a playlist!
~*~
Chapter 4: I Love Luci
The alarms woke everyone in the compound. Bucky quickly pulled on his nearest clothes and grabbed his nearest gun. Steve was already out in the hallway with his shield glinting in the blinking red light. Sam stumbled out of his room using the wall as support.
“Wassgoin’on?” he slurred and looked at the two awake and alert supersoldiers.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Steve addressed the AI. “What’s going on?”
“There is an intruder,” she reported. “They are here to steal the book you recovered from the Hydra base thirty-seven hours ago.”
“Do you think it’s Hydra?” Bucky asked Steve as they ran to the stairwell.
“I still don’t think they have the strength or numbers.”
The two men turned the corner to find themselves face to face with a woman they had never seen before. She wore a dark blue, long-sleeved dress and had long, red, curly hair with bangs. In her hands was the book held close to her chest.
“Oh, hello, boys,” the woman cooed in a Scottish accent.
Then she muttered softly under her breath and flicked her wrist. The supersoldiers were suddenly pinned up to the wall by an invisible force. The woman walked by quickly, heels clicking under her dress. Bucky watched as she disappeared around the corner. Where was everyone else? The sounds of her heels grew fainter until finally, Bucky and Steve fell to the ground. At the same time, the red lights stopped flashing and the alarm shut off. The intruder was gone.
“Mr. Stark requires everyone in the briefing room immediately,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoed through the halls.
“What the fuck—who the fuck was that?” Bucky asked as he stormed into the briefing room.
“I don’t know.” Tony’s head was resting in his hand. “I need to know how she got in and out.”
“Magic, obviously,” Clint mumbled. Everyone was still in their nightclothes. “She used goddamned magic to pin us to the walls or somethin’.”
“Even I couldn’t get out of it,” Wanda spoke up. Her hair was up in a messy knot on the top of her head.
“I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. go through cameras and shit. Just…how did she get in?”
~*~
“How did you get in?” you asked the red-haired witch as she proudly displayed the Magicae Libro. “I mean doesn’t the Stark fucker have the best state of the art security system? That he made himself?”
“Darling, I think I’ve made my views on technology clear by now. Do not rely on it.”
“Now what do we do?” Dean looked at the old book. Everyone was gathered around the table, slightly groggy due to it being three-thirty AM.
“We gotta trap Lucifer again,” Cas stated. “Especially before he rallies more monsters.”
“We can always lure him out.” All eyes turned to Sam. “He wants so many things. Maybe me, as a vessel. Maybe the book, or maybe Jack.”
“Once again, Jack is not going anywhere,” Cas cut in. “He will definitely not be bait for his father.”
“I can do it,” Jack insisted but was met with sharp glares from Dean and Cas.
“Sammy, you’re sure as fuck not gonna be bait either,” ordered Dean. Sam opened his mouth in protest but shut it when Dean crossed his arms.
“Then the book is bait,” you summarized. “Lucifer probably knows that it was Rowena who got her hands on it.”
“And if he doesn’t outright know, I will be suspect number one,” she agreed. “I can protect the book well enough.”
“(Y/N) and I will go with you,” Dean offered.
“Yeah, we can pretend that you’re giving it to us.” The plan was forming in your mind. “We’ll ‘meet,’” you motioned air quotations, “somewhere public. Lucifer will find us and then…”
“Then Rowena will leave with the book and I will show up with angel backup,” Cas decided. “We’ll be watching for the right moment.”
~*~
“We found her!” Tony shouted. All of the Avengers lounging in the living room in their uniform jumped to their feet. “Let’s go! She could vanish at any moment!”
They all raced down to the hanger where the quinjet was already going. Tony wasn’t the only one desperate to get the thief, they were all embarrassed for underestimating the well-dressed woman.
“Okay,” Tony said once they were up in the air. The man was still slightly winded. “She was spotted in Lebanon, Kansas.” A street photo of the woman popped up onto the quinjet’s screen.
“How did she get there so fast? It’s gonna take us ‘bout an hour and a half to get there.” Clint walked in from the cockpit with Natasha behind him.
“We’ll have constant updates on her whereabouts,” Tony assured the team.
Everyone was fidgety. Who knew what could happen if the book ended up in the wrong hands. What if it was already in the wrong hands? Bucky bounced his knee as he stared at the street photos that updated every two minutes. Thirty minutes into the flight, things got interesting.
The woman had settled into a cafe. The photo of her at 10:27 showed her sitting alone, sipping her coffee. When the photos updated at 10:29, two people had joined her. Bucky’s eyes had glazed over, but Sam’s sharp intake of breath and sharp elbow brought him back to his senses. Now (Y/N) and a man who Bucky recognized as her brother Dean sat across from the red-haired intruder.
“What’s (Y/N) doing with the thief?” Steve voiced Bucky’s thoughts.
“Who’s (Y/N)?” Wanda asked and looked at the photo which had updated, although the situation hadn’t changed. “Is it the girl?”
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Bucky’s super obsessed with her.”
“Oh?” Natasha raised her eyebrow at the supersoldier in question and gave him her signature smirk.
“No, I’m not.”
“Right, because staring at her file while desperately trying to track her down isn’t an obsession,” Sam retaliated.
Steve then proceeded to explain the whole Winchester situation to the team. From the first encounter to the explanation of the supernatural.
“Ghosts and vampires?”
“Tony, aliens have invaded New York. Bucky and I are from the forties. Wanda is sitting across from you. We are literally tracking someone who used magic against us and you’re still questioning the possibility of this?”
Thank God, or whoever was looking out for them, for the quinjet’s amazing speed and tailwinds because they were able to shave off half an hour from their travel time. Based on the photos, the three people in the cafe haven’t moved. They were actually finishing up their breakfast.
When they landed and were about to leave, the photos updated to reveal a fourth person had joined them. The redhead, (Y/N), and her brother were visibly tense at the man’s arrival. Bucky was the first out of the plane.
~*~
You and Dean had been sitting across from Rowena in an empty cafe for almost thirty minutes. The Devil was still a no-show. At least you got a nice breakfast out of it. Rowena sighed dramatically and opened her mouth to speak when someone stopped at your table.
“Well if it isn’t some of the people who are always a fucking thorn in my side,” Lucifer greeted politely. About goddamn time.
“Well if it isn’t the literal fucking Devil,” you replied.
“Well if it isn’t the archangel who murdered me twice,” Rowena continued.
“Well if it is—”
“Enough!” Lucifer shouted. The lone waiter behind the counter looked up and you made a subtle motion to tell him to leave. “You have something that belongs to me.”
He reached over Rowena for the book, but she took him by surprise and was able to throw him back far enough that you all managed to stand up and go on the defensive. Dean had his demon-killing knife and you held an angel blade. The kitchen doors opened and the two cooks walked out. They joined the waiter who was still behind the counter.
You were about to yell at them to get the fuck out, but when three pairs of eyes flashed black the only word that slipped out was, “Shit.”
As if your plan hadn’t already gone sideways, backward, and every direction except the one you wanted, the cafe’s bell above the door signaled the arrival of… the goddamn fucking Avengers. All of them, this time. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out an obvious groan of annoyance.
“Everybody, stand down.” Of course, Captain America would try to take the diplomatic route with Satan. In his defense, he didn’t know.
“They have something of mine,” Lucifer snarled. “And I have every intention of killing everyone to get it back.”
“Is it the book?” Iron Man stepped forward. Man, this cafe was starting to feel kinda small. “Because she,” he pointed at Rowena, “stole it from us.”
“And where did you get it?” Lucifer’s eyes flashed red. You saw Bucky look at you. He knew this was something supernatural.
“We took it from an evil organization.”
“And where did they get it?”
“Rowena,” you interrupt. “Go. Cas won’t come until the book is gone.”
“Stay and play a bit, Red,” Lucifer smirked as the cook demons lunged at you.
The waiter flicked his wrist and most of the Avengers went flying. You watched Lucifer who stalked towards Rowena as you fought off your demon. Every time your angel blade cut its skin, the wound momentarily glowed. Rowena was using her powers to push Lucifer back, but the Devil was still gaining on her in a perfect display of ‘two steps forward, one step back.’ She was leading him outside, away from the crowded cafe.
The Avengers were doing horribly. It was seven against one. ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ your ass. The demon held them up to the wall. You noticed that the Scarlet Witch was doing the most with her red mist.
Finally, your angle blade found its rightful place in the heart of a demon. It glowed brightly before it collapsed. Dean was able to off his own demon at the same time. You didn’t hesitate to put your blade through the back of the waiter’s skull. The Avengers were released from the demon’s grip and they fell to the floor. Wasting no time, you ran out the door screaming the Devil’s name.
“Lucifer!” He ignored you. “Lucifer, you son of a bitch!”
A red mist suddenly surrounded Satan and pulled him back toward you. Rowena and the book disappeared before the Scarlet Witch could grab her too. Someone walked up next to you and you turned to see Bucky watching Lucifer struggling against the red mist.
“Is that really Lucifer?” he looked at you with his beautiful blue eyes. Hot damn, you could stare into his eyes forever.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Your brain finally caught up. “Yep. That’s our good frenemy, Satan.”
“The Devil?” came Capt—Steve’s voice behind you.
“‘Frenemy?’” another voice asked. You turned and made eye contact with Hawkeye. In response, you smiled and nodded.
“You have an on-again, off-again relationship with Lucifer?” Iron Man asked.
“We have an on-again, off-again relationship with Lucifer,” Dean confirmed.
“Isn’t that right, Luci?” you jokingly asked the Devil who was now floating a couple of feet away from you.
“I honestly thought we were friends now, (Y/N),” Lucifer deadpanned.
“You tried to kill us,” Dean pointed out. “Multiple times. Most recent being one fucking minute ago!”
“That’s what friends do!” Lucifer smiled. “Wow, lookie, the Avengers! What are they doing here? This is crazy! I’m a big fan.”
“What were you planning?” you speak before the Avengers could react to the Devil’s comments. You could feel Bucky’s gaze on you as Lucifer became serious.
“(Y/N), Dean, I’m not the bad guy here.” You rolled your eyes and could tell a couple of Avengers did the same. “Something is happening. You need to see the big picture.”
The sound of fluttering wings signaled the arrival of four angels and Cas. They appeared and surrounded Lucifer.
“Thank you, guys,” Cas said looking at you and Dean. “They’ll take care of him now.” He looked back at the four angels and nodded his head.
“The big picture, (Y/N),” Lucifer said one last time before he vanished.
“Ready to go home?” Cas still paid no mind to the group of heroes. “Everyone is waiting back at the bunker.”
“Um, I think I want some answers,” Iron Man cut in.
“We all want answers,” agreed the red-haired woman. The Black Widow.
“What,” Dean looked at you, “are we just going to invite the Avengers over for coffee?”
“Yes,” you and Cas said at the same time.
Dean sighed, “All right. Let’s go.”
~*~
~*~
~*~
~*~
~*~
Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):
@grav3dollie-666
#different worlds#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x winchester reader#dean winchester#sam winchester#winchester reader#the avengers#mcu#marvel#supernatural crossover#marvel crossover#crossover#supernatural marvel#marvel supernatural#castiel#jack kline#sam wilson#steve rogers#tony stark#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#clint barton#lucifer
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The Experiment Chapter 6
"Will F/L/N Y/N please report to the office?"
I ignore the 'ooooohhhhh she in trouubllleee's' and head down.
"We've decided to transfer you to 1 A. One of our previous students decided the hero course is not for him, and someone from general studies is going in, however, Aizawa refuses to re-teach the new kid what he's already taught the others, so we need to transfer someone from 1 B in, and since you were already being considered, you're the perfect candidate." The little rat grins at me. Who the hell is Aizawa? I've never heard of him.
“Ok. Sounds good.” I figure there’s no point in fighting it, the alternative is expulsion. As I’m walking over to the door, the rat speaks again,
“Oh, you’ll be moving classes now, so go get your stuff. We figure the faster the transition, the smoother." What am I supposed to do about my friends?
"Can I say bye to everyone?"
"Of course." He says a grin on his little rat face.
Great, now I have to reintroduce myself, and avoid questions, and explain my quirk all over again. One the bright side, I'll be with that Momo girl… she was super pretty. Oh, and that jackass blonde kid, and that bitchy two toned.
On my way back to my old class, I plan out what I'm going to tell Monoma. Poor kid, they don't get him like I do.
I sigh and push through the heavy door.
"Hey, what was that about?" Kendo's face is knitted with concern once she sees my expression.
"I have to transfer classes. To 1 A."
The classroom is silent. Vlad king looks disappointed. He loves all his students and had grown quite attached to them, as he did each year.
"No, you can't leave us for them!" Monoma said, betrayal flashing in his eyes. "You can't leave me…" he whispers to himself. 'Not for those 1 A brats, who, like everyone else in his life, believed he couldn't be a good hero. They insulted us, called us worthless, and now they think they can take you away? His first friend he's had in a long time?'
"We can still hang out during lunch and after school and stuff Monoma, I'm not dying."
But he wasn't listening to me. He looked like he was having a flashback. 'Does she think they're better than us? Is that why she's leaving? Because I'm not good enough? But, I'm just as good as them, we got in on the same test… there's really no difference, just letters. I'll show those bastards how good we are. That will prove to her that we're the same.'
Tetsutetsu was a bit disappointed too. He enjoyed having such a tough girl in class. You fought those bullies! It wasn't a crush, per say, more of an admiration for your spirit.
2nd person
On the other hand, Pony was glad you were being transferred. Not in a rude way, no, actually quite the opposite. She remembers you fighting those jerks, and knows that if you are in class 1A, you can ride off the wave of fame from that villain attack. The more famous you are,,, the easier to become a pro.
But not that you would know this.
Back to Y/N
I wonder what these new kids will be like. They can't all be selfish jerks.
Outside of the 1A door, I hear a muffled voice say,
"A new student is being transferred in, in Mineta's place." Footsteps alert me that he, whoever he is, is approaching the door. "Come in." He says as it opens. Oh shit, it's that teacher who caught me fighting. I step through the door, which is conveniently wide, easier for my wings to get through.
"Hey, I'm F/L/N Y/N. Uh, I'm from 1B and my quirk is Raven."
"Good. Sit behind Midoriya, Midoriya raise your hand." He said, sounding sleep deprived. A green haired boy raised his hand, and I walked over there. In front of Midoriya, was the jerk. As I walked by, he scoffed and said,
"The fuck's wrong with your face." I ignored him. He didn't deserve my answer. Behind my seat was Momo. Oh good, I get someone nice. Next to me was a guy with a black bird head. He looked me in the eyes and said
"Ah, a fellow creature of darkness." He looked so dramatic as he said it, like he was a stabbed poet. He must have been talking about my wings and I didn't know what to say, so naturally, I said,
"Ok." He seemed satisfied with my answer, and he turned back to Mr Aizawa. Behind him, was the two toned jerkface who wouldn't let me sit with him. He looked at the scars on my face, his face blank, and then looked away. What a weirdo.
"Copy down these notes." Mr. Aizawa said before pulling out a yellow sleeping bag and slumping down. Wait, What?
"Yeah, he does that," says a guy with pointy bangs, "we've gotten used to it by now." I nod in acknowledgement, and look down at my paper. Fuck. Small problem. I can't read. I know my name, and how to write it, but other than that, I never learned. Kei read me the textbooks out loud, and the acceptance letter was verbal. Vlad King read the notes out loud as he said them. Oh my god. I'm in high school and I can't read. This is horrible, people will find out, I'll be kicked out of UA for being stupid. Momo tapped me on the shoulder.
"Are you ok? Is Midoriya's muttering bothering you?"
"What? Oh, no." I hadn't even noticed. As I listened closer, I realized he was saying the notes out loud as he wrote them. As I listened, I pretended to look up at the board and wrote my name over and over as I listened. Perfect.
The lunch bell rung, and the class filed out. The green haired boy, Midoriya, walked towards me, a smile on his freckled face.
"Hi! I'm Midoriya Izuku! How does your quirk work? Does it have to do with those splotches on your skin?"
"Nah, they're burns. My quirk is pretty self explanatory," I said, widening my wings for emphasis. "Oh, and I can do this," I hardened my wings and shot the blades out within seconds. His eyes went wide as they pinned his arm to a wall. A brown haired girl ran to his side.
"Deku are you ok??" She looks like she's worried enough to faint.
"You shouldn't use your quirk so recklessly!" A blue haired guy with glasses started scolding me.
"Chill out, he's fine." I said as I started to walk away. I heard a faint snort from the back, and when I turned my head I saw the blonde bastard staring me down.
"You got a problem?" I said, loudly for everyone to hear.
"Yeah, you better not be thinking you're better than me!"
"Hey man, chill out," a red haired guy grabbed his shoulder and he turned and glared, then shrugged him off a couple seconds later, but he didn't continue his speech to me. He stomped out of the room, backpack slung around one shoulder.
"Sorry about him," the red haired guy said, rubbing his neck,"he can be a little-"
"Bitchy?" I interrupted.
"Um, yeah…"
"Badass." I heard a whisper from the side of the class. When I turned my head, a yellow haired boy winked at me. The green haired boy, Deku, or whatever was gaping at me. He looks like a pushover.
On my way out, after a few other kids, I heard the yellow one talking to a pink girl. I didn't pay attention until I heard my name.
"I bet 5 dollars she'll sit at our table." The yellow one said.
"No way! She'll totally sit with Todoroki! You see those marks?" There must be an invisible person in this class, because there were floating clothes.
"I think she'll sit with Deku, he seems to like her." That pink girl said.
"I hope she sits with us, she's so manly! Though Bakugo doesn't like her…"
"Kirishima, Bakugo doesn't like anybody but himself…"
I ignored them and walked out.
I could feel a couple eyes on me as I walked into the lunchroom.
"Oh." I heard from a couple people in 1A as I sat down with Monoma, Kendo and Tetsutetsu.
"So, how's the famous class 1A. Do you have any dirt on them?"
"I don't know. They seem normal. The teacher sucks though."
"So they're not as good as everybody says?" Kendo looked disappointed in my answer.
"No. Nothing special. " I said.
"So what's the deal with my spot? Do they have a new person yet?"
"Nah, they said they're gonna wait till after the sports festival to see who can earn the spot." The silver haired boy spoke for the first time. "I'm excited to shove it to those 1A bastards."
"What's the sports festival?"
All three stared at me.
"It's a competition between classes of U.A. haven't you seen it on TV before?"
"Um, no," I said, shifting my wings uncomfortably, "I've never had the chance with all my training." Usually I'm a good liar. Strange.
We ate, and the bell rung again, signaling the end of lunch.
"Bye guys, see you later!"
After lunch, it was time for basic hero training.
"I AM HERE!" The large man yelled. It's Allmight. This would be so cool if I actually gave a fuck.
"Everybody suit up and meet me in field A!" He said as he pushed the button that sent the rack that holds the hero suits out of the wall. Everybody in this class has different quirks, so I get to see the new costumes! This is exciting!
After walking out of the locker room, I spot Deku, that girl, and a suit of armor. I walk over to them.
"Holy moly Y/N! You look amazing!" The girl says. I must've misjudged her, she seems nice.
"Thanks! You look great too!"
(Sexy)
"Though not entirely appropriate for a high school…" this came from the armor. Oh, it must be the mean one under there.
(Baggy)
"Though not flashy enough to stand out amongst the others.…" This came from the armor. Oh, it must be the mean one under there.
(Normal)
"Who's your favorite hero?" Deku asks, his eyes shining.
(Sexy)
"Midnight."
(Baggy)
"Hawks"
"Awesome! Did your costume take inspiration from hers/his? Mine is based on my favorite hero Allmight! He's so cool and I want to be just like him!"
"Yeah, it did."
"Ah, I see. Taking inspiration from your favorite hero is admirable. My costume is based off of my personal hero, Ingenium! I misjudged you! Tenya Iida!" He said while bowing.
"Yeah, I also just like wearing stuff like this." That jerk's not going to slutshame/ make anyone feel bad about their style anyone on my watch.
"Hey you! Scarface!" Both me and the boy with the split colored hair turned around.
"NO NOT YOU YOU ICY HOT BASTARD! THE NEW GIRL!"
(Sexy)
I walked over to him. I could see the yellow haired boy staring at my costume with a light blush on his face. The red haired one was quickly looking away to pretend he wasn't staring. I was honestly kind of surprised. It's probably just because there are only a few people with skimpy hero costumes. He's not actually interested. I don't have a curvy body. I'm only a(n) (A,B,C,D) I guess the fishnets and garters did their job. I don't have big hips or thighs. To be honest, I do have long legs. I stand at 5'7'' I'm eye level with Bakugo normally, but in these heels I stand about 5'9"
(Both)
I walk over to Bakugo, who's glaring at me the whole way. Once I reach him, I try to embarrass him as much as possible. If he's gonna call me scarface, I can make fun of him.
(I was thinking boots like these, but they can be whatever you want.)
https://m.ericdress.com/product-11509725.html?currency=USD&gclid=Cj0KCQjwhvf6BRCkARIsAGl1GGjf9TV6-_c2gPz3-hTjYFiEffFIIwLPzQuBk5YSN8KYq1rZnRd6WkMaAqD-EALw_wcB
(Baggy)
"Same pants!" I say, glancing down at his legs.
[Optional:Baggy]
My hero costume was sweatpants, a jacket, and a sports bra. Mind you, it was a full coverage bra, that made sure I was covered and safe. I would have worn something loose, but I couldn't for 3 reasons. 1) I needed to be able to fit my wings through the back and move them easily. 2) I couldn't wear a loose shirt while flying or it would tear off. 3) A loose shirt would be easy to grab during a fight.
I also wore sleeves to cover my arms, and weighted knuckle gloves. (gloves with hard stuff in the knuckles to make a punch hurt more)
(Sexy)
As I got to Bakugo, he said
"You better not be looking down on me bitch!" Which I thought was ironic, because I'm taller than him.
"It'd be hard not to. I'm taller than you." I lean in real close to intimidate him, but he freezes, and then as if shaking off a thought, frowns and yells,
"That's because you're in stripper heels you whore!"
"They aren't stripper heels, they're platform boots. Moron." Redhead stares wide eyed, as if he's expecting a bomb to detonate any second. I suppose in a way, it is.
"WELL HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KNOW THAT!!! I BET YOU CANT EVEN FIGHT ME!! WEAKLING!! I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!!"
"Do you want some Zoloft or something? I can get you some." I really can, Kei knows a couple dealers, having made a few runs for extra cash. She mostly cuts contact with the shady stuff though.
"NO I DON'T WANT YOUR DRUGS YOU SHADY WHORE! FIGHT ME!!!"
"Hey bro, calm down! Let's make a plan for winning and proving we're the best at UA!" The redhead said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation.
"Stay out of this shitty hair!"
"TIME FOR CLASS TO START!" A booming voice yells. "THIS WILL BE A PARTNER ACTIVITY, SO PAIR UP! REMEMBER TO CHOOSE WISELY, TO BE THE BEST HEROES, ONE MUST WORK WELL WITH OTHERS!" Ha, looks like the Bakugo kid did not like that last part.
"WHY YOU LOOKIN' AT ME?!" He yells at Allmight.
People began to pair up, Uraraka and Deku, Bakugo and Kirishima, etc. The girls were crowding the split one, and the bird boy came over to me.
"Would you like to be my fellow partner of darkness in this activity?"
"Sure," I said.
"There are 30 of these sandbags hidden around the facility as hostages. There are also 20 of Ectoplasm's copies scattered around. They won't always be near the hostages. Once down, a copy will stay down. It is not required to fight any of the clones. Attacking anybody but the clones is prohibited. The team to rescue the most sandbags wins. You have 8 minutes to make a plan with your partner. Starting… now."
“What's your name?” I said. It's probably something emo or edgy af.
“Tokoyami Fumikage.”
“Ok, what does your quirk do?”
“This is dark shadow. He fights.” he said as a black mass with yellow eyes emerges from his back.
"So, you could fight clones while I look for hostages… but then we wouldn't be able to help each other… and my quirk's not very good at fighting."
"If we both go everywhere together we'll rescue less people, separating would be more efficient...but then what if the other finds someone? Maybe someone could
"I think that we should work together. We should set up a base and we can bring the bags there." I said. He nodded.
"Everybody line up! It's time to begin!" We did
"Ready! GO! PLUS ULTRA!" He shouted and we scrambled to the door. Someone jumped in through a window, her tongue hanging out.
Once in, I found myself in a maze. There were 4 hallways to choose from. I ran down the closest one, Tokoyami in close pursuit. I turned a corner to find a wall and a sandbag on the ground. This is easy. With no villains in sight, I pick it up and the door slams shut. A person shimmers into vision, one of the clones, because he's in Ectoplasm’s costume. He pulls out a knife and makes a jab at me. Tokoyami bangs on the door, but it's metal. I can easily move out of the way, because I live on the streets, and there are homeless drunks who will stab you, so Kei taught me how to dodge, grab their wrist, break it, and slam their head into the nearest surface. Unluckily for the clone, that was an iron door. It melts and leaves a button on the ground. I push it, and it opens the door.
We run a bit more, turning and twisting through the cemented labyrinth, until we find a clone. It has a few hostages, a big one and a small one. It must symbolize a kid. This clone just pulls a knife and slits the bigger bag open, the sand pouring onto the floor. I freeze. It grabs the small bag and holds a knife to it. He must not have a quirk because he hasn't used anything yet.
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fine quality copper ingots
For @whumptober2020 day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor (specifically "reluctant bedrest")
Continues on from day four, wherein Aziraphale met up with a distraught coworker, waited for Crawly at the base of the Tower of Babel, and then it fell on him, day five, wherein Aziraphale did his best to help the citizens of Babylon, and was caught by demons for his trouble, day eight, wherein Aziraphale found brief and unexpected camaraderie among the prisoners of Hell, day eleven, wherein Hell tried to make a deal with Aziraphale, day twelve, wherein Crawly finally stops by, and doesn’t help, day fourteen, wherein Hell subjects Aziraphale to a very unpleasant experience, which is admittedly kind of Hell’s brand, day twenty-four, wherein all the lights go out and Crawly someone springs Aziraphale and guides him through the tunnels of Hell, and day twenty-seven, wherein there’s an earthquake and the tunnels of Hell collapse in on both of them.
This is the end of the Tower of Babel fic! I’ll be posting this to AO3 at some point, probably this weekend.
Aziraphale/f!Crawly, with a little post-canon Aziraphale/Crowley bit at the end as well. Mild respiratory distress and wing wounds discussed, but nothing gory; this installment is mostly hurt/comfort.
It took them a while to reach the top of the stairs, and Crawly had been hurt badly by the cave-in, but the growing window of light and sky above buoyed Aziraphale's spirits enormously, and he thought Crawly felt similarly, although she was having such a difficult time that Aziraphale ended up tsking to himself and carrying her.
Crawly was indignant, at first. "Angel, don't be ridiculouss --" she started, before she had another coughing fit; Aziraphale decided that was permission enough to be ridiculous, and Crawly raised no more objections.
When they emerged into the light, it was into the city of Babylon once more, and things were much calmer than they had been before. All the light gave Aziraphale a bit of a headache, and also, he had to put Crawly down or they were going to get very strange looks.
They made their way to an inn, and got the attention of the proprietor. "Don't think she speaks any of our languages, angel," said Crawly, hoarsely.
"Have you got a room?" Aziraphale asked her, loudly and slowly, and she rolled her eyes at him and said something incomprehensible. She seemed to be asking a question, and she pointed at both Aziraphale and Crawly in turn. She held up two fingers, and looked inquiringly at the two of them, and then mimed sleeping.
"Two, yes. Two beds," said Aziraphale, because he really needed a rest, and she presented them with two keys. "No, no," he said, "only one room. One!" he said, holding up one finger. "But two --" he held up two fingers, and mimed sleeping again. "Two beds."
"Ah!" said the proprietor, and took back one of the keys.
"But has this one got two beds?" Aziraphale asked, gesturing again, and she assured them in gestures, yes, go to the room.
So Aziraphale tried to take the key, but she tugged it back, and demanded payment -- the procedure for this was that Aziraphale laid out coins on the table, hoping at some point she would agree that it was enough coins, and she watched, and then, eventually, Crowley hissed, "She's cheating you, angel," grabbed the key quicker than the innkeeper could take it back, and pulled him off to go to the room. (Then she'd had another coughing fit on the stairs up, poor thing.)
This was how they ended up with one room with one bed. It was not ideal, but in fairness, Aziraphale supposed he should have expected this.
"Was I not clear enough with her, do you think?" he asked, frowning down at the bed.
"It'ss fine, you were fine," said Crawly, still winded. Technically she didn't have to breathe at all, but she did need it to speak, and also, once you were in the habit of breathing, not doing it was very uncomfortable.
"You should lie down," said Aziraphale, "you sound dreadful. Is it all just stuff in your lungs, or did you break something?"
"I don't know, and I don't --" She began coughing again, and reluctantly sat down on the bed. "Ow," she said, miserably, once the coughing fit was over. "Fuck. Could you get... sstuff out of my lungss and I'll -- angel what the fuck," she said.
Aziraphale had got out his wings, so that he could finally heal them, and he'd been ready for the pain, but he'd forgot how bad they would look, especially ignored for however many days he'd been trapped in Hell. "Got caught in the tower collapse," he said. "I suppose... I suppose that didn't have anything to do with you after all."
"No!" she said, and began coughing again. Aziraphale dragged the dust out of her lungs with a miracle, and she was able to breathe more freely, although she still winced whenever she moved. "Thanksss. Let me ssee your wingss, they're awful, I'm sso sorry you had to -- Satan, did the whole tower collapse on you specifically or what?"
"It sort of leaned over and fell, and I didn't get out of the way in time," said Aziraphale, unhappily. He sat, and winced as Crawly ran her long fingers gently over the wounds, treating them with stinging healing miracles.
"So you didn't have anything to do with it either?" Crawly asked.
"Me? Why would I --"
"Heaven did it, ssomehow," said Crawly. "Didn't they?"
"Well, they didn't send me to do it," said Aziraphale. "I'd have told you! And not been standing under the tower waiting for you." He winced and tried to stay still as Crawly set one of the bones in his wing. "How did your meeting with the copper merchant go, anyway?"
"Horribly," said Crawly. "Basstard tried to cheat me. I mean, I knew he was going to do that, I'd sussed him out as a good target for being tempted to greed early on, but that wasn't what I was there for," she said. "Actually, if it'd gone well maybe the tower could've stayed up a little longer."
"Oh?" said Aziraphale. "Crawly! Were you trying to save Babylon from this awful disaster?" He was very touched. "I mean, it was going against God's will, that's properly demonic, I suppose, but --"
"I wasn't trying to ssave anybody," Crawly insisted. "Have you talked to the people who live around the tower? I mean, not now, can't talk to them now, they won't understand you -- but before, I mean. Did you get a chance to talk to any of them about it? There, I think that'ss the last break, try the left one," she said, tapping his left wing.
Aziraphale spread the wing experimentally, flapped it, folded and unfolded it, and it felt sore, but otherwise fine. "Yes, I think you got them all. Thank you, my dear," he said, and he realized as her hands paused in running over his right wing, what he'd called her. "Very kind of you," he said, quickly, to distract her.
"I'm not --"
"And no, I hadn't talked to any of the people who lived nearby. What would they have said?" he asked Crawly. He winced as she fixed another break.
"Well, they didn't like it at all," she said. "Ruined all their views, didn't it? Gave them shade when they didn't always want it. You have a nice little second floor apartment in the middle of the city, and then suddenly this great bloody tower springs up like a -- like a -- well, it’s awkwardly phallic, only instead of just being not what you want to see, it takes up your entire front room window and makes it too dark to do anything indoors. They were so angry about it," said Crawly, sounding very pleased with this. "Try the right wing now?" she suggested.
Aziraphale tested his other wing. "Much better, thank you," he said, and he was a little surprised that she pulled his wing back towards her. "What are you doing?"
"Well, they look awful, don't they? All clotted blood and messy feathers everywhere, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you, frankly," said Crawly. "I'll have to neaten them up."
It felt... good, having someone else run their fingers through his feathers. Aziraphale tried not to think about it; it needed doing, and she had offered. "All right," he said.
"Right!" she said, starting in on his wings. "Anyway, I thought, well that's a good source of misery, that is. And maybe other people will try and build bigger ones, and land will start getting horribly expensive because there's a big tower craze and you can fit more shops and tenants into a tower than you can into a regular building. Only... what if lightning strikes the damn thing? Then it just burns and maybe kills the people at the top, and the tower's not appealing at all and everything goes back to normal."
"Mm," said Aziraphale, who was having a bit of trouble paying attention, because he hadn't quite realized what a terrible state his wings were in until she'd started cleaning them up, and goodness, that did feel good, didn't it? "Sorry, what does the copper have to do with any of this?"
"Well, I had an idea about redirecting the lightning," she said.
"Towards... people you don't like?" Aziraphale asked.
"No, no! Just, to the ground. That'd make towers safe. Or, safer, really. And then more of them would be built and they'd cause everyone misery as everybody tried to build bigger and bigger buildings and eventually they'd all run out of money and stone and wood and they'd be stuck with their big stupid buildings, all hating each other."
"Do you really think so?" Aziraphale asked. "I thought it looked quite nice."
"Well, sure, that one did, but once they start being the thing to build there'll be imitators and some of them will be substandard and everybody knows the sequel's never as good as the first one." Crawly sounded so pleased with herself that Aziraphale felt bad contradicting her by reminding her that there would have been even nicer towers built, once human architects really got used to working with the medium. It didn't matter; it was against the Will of God, so it wasn't going to happen, anyway.
Aziraphale decided, also, that he'd better neaten up his own wings, because that felt -- maybe -- too good? Yes. Best not to make any sort of mistakes. He didn't want to end up in Nisroc's shoes. "Well!" he said, folding his wing in front of him, and standing up to walk away from the bed. "I think I can take care of the rest of this, Crawly, thank you for healing me. I think you ought to rest up, though, you've been through so much."
"But --" She looked very disappointed.
"I'll stay here with you if you like," said Aziraphale. "We haven't even had that lunch yet, have we? Why don't we do that tomorrow?" he suggested.
"We don't have to -- if you don't want --" She looked embarrassed, for some reason.
"Crawly, you did save me from Hell, I do think I owe you lunch, at the very least, and, well, I know you like sleep, and I think you need rest. I had to carry you up those stairs!"
"Didn't have to," she muttered. "But... oh, fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "If it makes you happy." So she lay down and closed her eyes, and if Aziraphale ended up settling in next to her, one newly-preened wing laying over her, that was his own business. And if Crawly ended up deciding she was too comfortable to move and going back to sleep for another few days, well... nobody had to know.
--
Aziraphale felt that he really ought to stay in town and see that Babylon recovered adequately, and Crawly had decided a city where nobody could understand each other was optimal for her wiles, and so, a few weeks later, they both still happened to be in town, by coincidence, and had met up for lunch, also by coincidence, nearly every day.
"One thing I would like to know, Crawly," said Aziraphale, over a very strong drink that he didn't think was quite what he'd meant to order. It was very good, at least. "What was that awful drawing of Satan you were terrorizing me with?"
"He was remaking a fallen angel," said Crawly, as if this much was obvious.
"Ah. So you were telling me I was going to be 'remade,' said Aziraphale.
"What? No! I was telling you you had to wait until he was busy with all of that," said Crawly, pouring herself another glass of the mysterious drink. "Because of the blackouts. They had some really powerful, you know, big names in Heaven, I guess, and I knew the lights would be out for a good long time."
"Ah," said Aziraphale. "That's -- that's not how I interpreted it." He felt a bit sheepish now. "You could've been more clear, though."
"I'm not a very good artist, cut me some slack, Aziraphale," she said.
"Did you know the earthquake was coming?" Aziraphale asked.
Crawly shook her head. "Knew there'd be something like that, but I wasn't thinking earthquake. With the stronger ones, anyway, when their powers come back they sort of... echo. It's hard to explain. Usually not earthquakes, though."
"Did you have to go through all of that?" Aziraphale asked.
"Everyone had to go through all of that, angel," said Crawly. He must have looked appalled, because she went on, reassuringly. "And then you get your new name, and then you're done, and it's fine."
Nisroc had mentioned this, but it hadn't really stuck in Aziraphale's mind. "Did -- I'm sorry, did Satan name you Crawly?" he asked.
"I didn’t have much input," Crawly said, and then downed the rest of her cup. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."
"I don't know why I expected anything better out of Satan," Aziraphale admitted.
"Could be worse. At least I don't have to work for Heaven anymore," said Crawly, and grinned at Aziraphale's sour look. "Definitely worth it."
"Well. I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree," said Aziraphale.
--
Several millennia later, Aziraphale remembered a question he'd been meaning to ask Crowley for a while. It was a lovely morning -- it had been a very lovely evening -- except that the news on the telly today was all about some people who were very angry about a new, very expensive tall building going up in front of their own, extant, very expensive tall building. It was not the first time he'd heard about something like this, and it would probably not be the last, but when Crowley came up behind him and buried his face in one of Aziraphale's wings while wrapping his hands around Aziraphale's chest, it was the first time he had the opportunity to ask the question just as it occurred to him.
"Dearest," said Aziraphale, waiting for Crowley to be done with this. He did get very silly about Aziraphale's wings sometimes, which was very flattering and quite delightful in the bedroom, but also it was sort of inconvenient the morning after, when Aziraphale wanted to sit down for a while, or go for another cup of tea.
"Mmh?" Crowley asked. He unburied his face and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. "Yes, angel?"
"Did you --" Aziraphale gestured with his mug of tea towards the television, where the announcer was gravely explaining that the views outside of some very rich people's windows were going to change, and that this upset them greatly. "Was that you?"
"No, they did that on their own, I'm afraid," said Crowley. He tsked to himself. "The Americans got all the credit for skyscrapers. And the lighting rod! World's not fair, angel. I suppose it's what I get for making all those claims about starting wars and whatnot in my reports Downstairs."
"Well, I'll always know you were ahead of your time," said Aziraphale. He turned to give Crowley a quick kiss, but it lingered, and he shivered as Crowley ran his fingers along the edges of his primary feathers, with the lightest, most delicate touch. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away, and smiled at Crowley's surprised look. "I thought I wanted another cup of tea," said Aziraphale, putting his nearly-empty mug down on the coffee table, "but I think that can wait." He kissed Crowley again, and this time, pushed him back towards the bedroom.
#whumptober2020#no.29#i think i need a doctor#reluctant bedrest#good omens#aziraphale#anthony j crowley#ineffable husbands#fiction#text#kaesa op
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My Full Commentary on Broadway’s Dance of the Vampires
Turns out there’s so much that this is going to have to be split into two posts! These are my full, unedited, out-of-context ramblings as I watched the production, so prepare for it to be all over the place and chaotic! I also did a slightly shorter review of sorts here!
But here we go... Act 1!
• Huh. This is not Alfred in the snow
• Why are there three children in the forest
• This song is boring. To be fair their voices are nice but I’m still bored. This feels like Disney ugh
• God these jokes are awful and I can’t tell if they’re funny or not
• Whyyyyy is there a jokes every 5 seconds and WHAT ARE THEY DOING IN THE FOREST
• Oh my god why are they getting high on mushrooms
• wAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE SARAH HOLY SHIT
• WHY IS SHE WITH PEOPLE ARE THEY HER SIBLINGS
• WHY IS SHE OUTSIDE
• I feel like they’re foreshadowing Krolock’s arrival
• I want to get this over with already and see Krolock but I don’t want to see Crawford butcher his poor character
• What is going on why are they dancing, is this Carpe Noctem already
• Why are they just carrying them around
• The lights are nice but that’s about as far as I can compliment this
• The dancers (I’m guessing vampires even though I swear I heard a wolf howl) look like they just got off of Cats and either think they’re still in Cats but just wandered onto the wrong stage or just never recovered from being cats for so long and can tragically no longer move like normal humans (or vampires, whatever)
• The rock music is pretty cool I’ll give them that
• But I still don’t see where they’re going with this
• OH SHIT
• WHY DID A COFFIN LITERALLY RISE OUT OF THE GROUND
• IT’S GONNA BE KROLOCK ISN’T IT
• WHYYY
• God has left the building what the fuc-
• It sounds like he’s about to start a really sad rave
• Is that Krolock’s voice oh god please no
• Also THEY ARE NOT IN A BUILDING THEY ARE IN A FOREST
• I get that Krolock breaks the fourth wall in Die Unstillbare Gier but that is no excuse for this aAaAa
• I’m both scared and morbidly excited to unpause the video
• This feels on the same level of what kind of acid trip hallucination parallel universe have I landed in as seeing the Cats film in the cinema in that I’m both scaredly laughing and like fuck it what have I got to lose I’m here for the ride no matter what the next two hours may throw at me
• Oh god here I go
• Why are they applauding this is horrifying
• Is that a bloody top hat jesus christ
• Also I’m sorry but what kind of coffin is that big
• NO
• NO
• NONONONO
• I CAN’T THIS IS HORRIBLE
• COUNT GIOVANNI
• WHAT IS THAT VOICE
• Sarah sounded like Giofuckingvanni impersonating Sarah
• Did he just say you are a person
• And how old are you??? Where is the mystery?? Why does he sound like an old grandpa talking to the girl behind the checkout at the supermarket
• Ok I went back to check and no he said you are perfect and tbh that’s not much better she isn’t a product Giovanni
• Like yeah Krolock would probably be thinking that but he would never say it so plainly
• 18 in three days oh my god is her birthday on halloween
• Why does she talk like a 6 year old
• Oh no I’m sorry not just halloween but the total eclipse of the moon
• Gotta get the phrase total eclipse in there early
• At midnight huh sarah??? You were born at midnight???? And you care about that at 18-in-3-days??
• Issa too good excUSE ME?
• He sounds like a looney tunes character
• Is he talking to the audience
• Is this actually deadpool in disguise with all the fourth wall breaking because please that would be so much better than this trainwreck
• And Deadpool would never do this to poor TdV
• And your name, no don’t tell me… Sarah he’s not a cheap magician ugh (or tbh maybe Giovanni is)
• And now the einladung zum ball/tanzsaal music is playing… what is going to happen here
• I was gonna say finally something familiar but nope these lyrics are so wrong
• I know they can’t be exactly the same but they could have at least kept the meaning similar
• Like, what the hell is an original sin
• I was gonna roast the lyrics some more but I’m gonna be honest I’m not sure what he’s saying
• Endless researching? Ambronsius who? Awful word choice and I’m hating the repeated original sin thing he’s got going on
• Sei bereit????? So they’re keeping the German there???? Why??? Be prepared is the same number of syllables???
• Also what are they doing?? Merging einladung zum ball with gott ist tot or totale finsternis or what??
• Oh they said turn around… so not the literal translation, just the Bonnie Tyler lyrics, huh? That doesn’t even make sense. He’s in front of her already
• I’m sorry, since she’s been born??
• I’m mad that his voice is good because he could have performed in a faithful adaption and been a great Krolock but no he had to ruin everything and now we won’t get a good english version thanks michael
• It’s time to feed? Really?
• Oh so we are doing totale finsternis already
• We’re barely 11 minutes in and they’ve already used up two of the best songs in the musical?
• Also if Sarah and Krolock meet so early on, what’s gonna take up the first act? What’s gonna take the place of totale finsternis at act 2?
• The use of total eclipse of the heart definitely feels like an intentional joke here rather than just jim recycling his old stuff, and honestly it kind of works like that (though that’s only because this whole thing so far seems like one big parody)
• But if they don’t do the harmonies I’m gonna be so mad
• Or maybe I should just consider it a blessing tbh
• Nobody could ever beat drew and diana
• You’re so cool just because that’s what I think when I see Krolock that doesn’t mean that fits Sarah’s personality or what Krolock is supposed to be achieving (also Giovanni is most certainly Not Cool)
• Where I’ve paused it at 12:12 it looks like a meme. Crawford looks like he regrets everything and can I just say michael so does everybody else
• He looks like a potato or a rock or that neutral nicolas cage face that people put on the sequin cushion
• I hate that I kind of laughed at ‘and does he love me?’ ‘…Sarah.’
• She looks like a barbie doll
• Is he biting her already??
• Oh was he licking her neck?
• Why… don’t you celebrate… your birthday… at my castle? Oh my god
• This sounds like a poorly written krolock/reader wattpad fanfic
• Which is actually quite accurate
• He will return with the tails??
• He can’t gift her the sponge if the significance of the sponge hasn’t already been establisheddd
• It feel like lol aren’t i so random rawr xd
• Though giovanni would highkey be like that on myspace
• Also just saying, the sponge krolock gives to her in tdv is much more impressive than that normal sized sponge, up ur game giovanni
• And that’s just it????? He says ciao bella like a creepy mario then sinks into the ground again???
• How dare they use those nice choral harmonies for that scene
• Ah, 14:17 and I should go to bed but I sure don’t look forward to the garlic that I hear coming up
Day 2: Garlic
• And we’re back for round 2!
• So far garlic seems to have a similar vibe to the original, probably because the original was pretty dumb
• Yeah pretty much the same as the original
• But if there’s no frozen alfred and professor yet, what’s even going on?
• And that’s over
• Oh so they’re just gonna arrive like that, no drama or anything?
• Ew why does alfred sound like that? He might as well be gaston
• Oh so they’re mentioning Krolock by name??? When they’re supposed to be pretending he doesn’t exist?
• Oh so that was a mistake by an idiot, I see. Was this in the original?
• The whole smelling like feet thing is kind of funny, I hate to admit it. It’s just a shame it doesn’t fit Alfred’s character
• All in all, ignoring the fact that alfred is all wrong and not frozen, this scene is going pretty well. The jokes are quite good
• Huh who is this supposed to be??
• Oh my gOD IT’S GIOVANNI
• AND HIS STUPID ISSA TOO GOOD
• I really hate that I kind of enjoyed that reveal on some level
• But why????
• Where is koukol
• That silk is not going to be enough for sarah’s ballgown, I hate to break it to you Giovanni
• All of these modern phrases like I leave the door open and put it on my tab just don’t fit
• At this point I’ve decided to stop trying to take Giovanni seriouslg. This is a parody in my eyes
• Ah we’re at logic round 1 huh?
• It’s a shame the only bits so far that they’ve kept fairly accurate are the parts I never liked as much
• Oh my god is giovanni visiting the house as a bat???
• I’m not entirely certain who this other guy is… chagal?
• Frickin idiots really giovanni?
• Oh so koukol doesn’t even exist???
• Is his name morris??
• This is weird
• Ah finally sarah is in the bath
• But it’s in her room???
• Did she call alfred tasty?? You’re not a vampire yet sarah
• They’re both way too outgoing and confident ugh it’s wrong
• Where’s all the cute awkward clumsiness and interactions?
• Ok so alfred’s diary stuff is funny but it’s not alfred. Like, he was probably thinking some of this stuff but he wouldn’t say it, especially not like that
• Well chagal is less sexist and abusive here which is nice but ultimately removes sarah’s motivations
• A blood transfusion??
• I don’t even know what to say, these jokes are kinda gross
• Orange and black crepe paper? A pumpkin?? The prophecy thing? This is just stupid
• The pumpkin probably would scare giovanni away though
Sarah and Alfred’s duet doesn’t work when they’re both in THE SAME ROOM
• This is boring ugh they just met but not even in the way they did originally
• Where’s krolock to invite her to the ball? Oh wait, they already met, and it’s giovanni
• Dammit I love the einladung zum ball scene
• Did they even check blood types?? Oh wait it’s 18whatever supposedly
• Ew they’re supposed to bond over sponges not journals
• Oh here’s chagal’s gross song. Marginally less gross in this context to be fair but still
• Ha no one will abuse you except for you huh chagal
• Oh bye I guess chagal
• NO THAT BAT IS AWFUL OH MY GOD
• WHY DID THEY DO THIS
• GIOVANNI NO
• WHAT IS HE SINGING
• This is horrible
• Where’s the drama, the impressive teleportation, the cape swishing, the mystery, the music?
• Issa me! He might have just as well gone and said Itsa me, Mario!
• This is a crime
• He genuinely thinks she’s a princess nOOOOOO
• Krolock would never
• But I guess giovanni is just Like That
• Krolock wouldn’t complain about the smell, he would pull a face but that would be it
• The joke about the mirrors..? Is giovanni really that stupid or is he self aware and is joking with the audience?
• And the way he just stands there facing the audience in silence as they laugh… he’s got to be self aware
• Also this whole thing is so stupid in its attempts to be funny that I bet we won’t even get die unstillbare gier because giovanni could never pull off anything so genuine or serious (nor could any of the others though)
• Oh god are they semi doing einladung zum ball with the never enough stuff? But it’s not even dramatic or powerful enough ughhh
• Nooooo they made it sound all sappy and romantic when it’s supposed to be dark and commanding and… I don’t even have the words to describe it but no this is awful
• Also the lyrics feel so much more shallow than the original… and the original was so full of what was probably too many syllables that this just feels empty and drawn out
• Oh I’ve got it! Giovanni is like trying to convince her kindly like, oh sarah, that would never be enough for you, darling whereas krolock is stating a powerful fact, he’s like that would never be enough. Krolock knows that she knows and is just kind of showing her that he understands her and she should join him.
• Also michael if you sing the long note at the end, it needs to be meaningful, powerful, entrancing, inviting, exciting, dark, strong. You can’t just do a weedy weak version with no power and no meaning or purpose to the scene
• Why is mars rising
• Oh is it supposed to be a blood moon I bet it is
• This is new…
• The lyrics are all hey sarah, you can do whatever cool stuff you want, the dark side is fun haha
• There’s no story, no appeal to her character development or deeper motivations
• The staging is boring. They’re just stood there. Like two pigeons aimlessly squawking at each other, only one pigeon has decided it won’t shut up
• Giovanni’s makeup and hair are all wrong too
• Dear god only 45 minutes in
• Oh so chagal is frozen and bitten at the very least
• Oh magda and mrs chagal are both singing
• The harmonies are nice, I’ll give them that
• Ah here he goes
• Ew why is he a dog
• Oh mrs krolock is back
• Ooh manipulative he lies
• Ew alfred no kissing without asking first
• And here’s draussen ist freiheit
• Oh but it’s not about freedom, it’s bravery instead
• Why has it got a a dance beat now
• Oh no giovanni’s voice is ruining everything again
• Every time I think the music is actually alright, giovanni’s weaselly voice ruins everything
• Ah finally the end of act 1, though lesss cool when not on a house
• At only 1 hour and 4 minutes, we’ve done it. Halfway through. This is where things should start getting good but of course that probably won’t happen.
• Wait we didn’t even get gott ist tot
• Oh no here it is
• Sounds like they’re keeping it the same
• Ok michael you’re not doing too badly
• *cough* But hey that’s probably because you’re sticking to the source material *cough*
• Ah ok now it’s the end of act 1 at 1 hour, 6 minutes and 30 seconds.
• And what an hour, 6 minutes and 30 seconds they’ve been
• So, before we move on, a quick summary:
• The better parts are the parts where they actually stick to the source material
• Giovanni is the polar opposite of Krolock and therefore cannot even be called Krolock
• The jokes are awful but sometimes funny
• I’m dreading act 2
• Dear god we haven’t even seen herbert yet
• And if sarah is already at the castle, is totale finsternis even going to happen again?
• I guess we’ll find out whether we want to or not in…
Part 2!
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I never said that I expected you to have *positive* strong opinions about that story :)
2) Damn, what I wrote could be interpreted as tumblr-style not-so-passive aggressiveness, “of course you'd dislike it because it shows how horrible you sound :) ” — it wasn't that, honest.
Oh, no, no, that's okay, I was theatrically overreacting, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.
It turns out that I have a lot to say about this story, it's just all of it is negative.
Here are several billion more words of close reading that you may feel free to skip.
Everybody in the story talks like they're on the internet all the time. Tony Tulathimutte has a relatively good ear for how people talk about this shit on the internet, and I won't lie, one or two passages even moved me, but this is because we are projecting our own knowledge of why people talk like this onto the story, not because Tulathimutte has given any of his characters any real internal life.
The fact that his feminists and Bros are just as much two-dimensional troglodytes as the story's anti-hero doesn't make it better.
Also this character is not an overly scrupulous feminist. The entire first half of the story is meant to be an ironic send-up of the way his feminist pieties contrast with his actual behavior, and I'm surprised people don't see that.
For example:
One classmate junior year had a crush on him, but he wasn’t attracted to her curvaceous body type so felt justified in rejecting her, just as he’d been rejected many times himself.
"Curvaceous" is a euphemism for "Fat". Notice that the first time he rejects someone is given significant time in the story; this character later reappears, complete with eating disorder. The first time someone rejects him is entirely glossed over, with the woman who did it never appearing in the story and the whole thing glossed over and forgotten in a few words.
Wouldn't we expect this character to obsess over those first rejections? To play them over and over in his mind?
This is why I say that, as much as any individual passage might be moving, this character has no real internal life.
Note also that the woman's disquiet about her body is expressed in neutral, sympathetic terms ("eating disorder") and given a sort of origin story: we are told she was fat in high school, was rejected for it, and has since developed an eating disorder.
In contrast, the main character's dislike of his body is expressed in absurd, satirical terms (his obsession with "narrow shoulders") and we are never given any insight into why that became his focus.
Now that he’s self-conscious, he realizes he can’t compete along conventional standards of height, weight, grip strength, whatever.
How did he realize it and when? Has he ever been shamed for his body? Notice that this realization predates his internet radicalization. Why did he fixate on his physical attributes, rather than, say, his economic situation? Tulathimutte shows no indication that the question has even occurred to him.
Nor, for that matter, does Tulathimutte spend much thinking on why feminism in particular appealed to this character.
Still, the school ingrained in him, if not feminist values per se, the value of feminist values.
Ah, see, he always viewed feminism instrumentally, never as a serious deep down commitment.
But why did he choose that instrument rather than another?
Again, we won't be shown.
Also, in a different thread @thefeministthrowaway spoke very emotionally about going through high school and even into college terrified that any expression of sexual interest in a woman would constitute a terrible burden on her or even become sexual harassment, and scrupulously avoided it.
Our main character did not go through such a phase; he had, according to the narration, already been rejected several times in High School.
Which leads me to the question of why on Earth this is written in third person. A first person account might allow us to read the narrator as unreliable, reading between the lines to see that what he viewed as a lifetime of rejection was really him blowing a small number of incidents and misunderstandings out of proportion; the third person narration invites us to see it as fundamentally honest and accurate: he has already asked many girls out by the time he leaves high school.
Certainly he asks out several more in college; and rather than the exagerrated fear of imposition we have, he sends several pestering, passive-aggressive emails to a woman who turns him down.
This exact scenario happens four or five more times.
He's not scrupulously terrified of women; he pursues them to an uncomfortable and borderline stalkerish degree.
Later, he has an exchange about sexual mores with men who are identified not as friends, but "co-workers", and he calls them out for their anti-feminist ways. This is part of a general issue where everyone acts like they're on the internet all the time.
I was once out with a friend of a friend who convinced us to go meet some girls he knew (No shit, part of his pitch was, "They're real dumb") and when we got to the bar they had an elaborate drinking game from their sorority days and part of the mnemonic for the rules was about "bitches."
So, as a brittle feminist, I of course got up and made a big speech about how they shouldn't devalue themselves-
Of course I fucking didn't. I privately thought "that seems like a gross way to think about yourself" while being God damned terrified of what I'd have to do if someone asked me a question about sex during the truth or dare part.
There's no awareness in this story about the difference between real life and internet behavior, or how they modify each other. (The same problem crops up later when QPOC friend calls him out in a way that, if we saw it as a Tumblr anecdote we'd all respond with, "And then everyone got up and applauded")
“Go ahead then,” his coworker smirks, “ask your female friends what they think.”
Bristling, he calls his QPOC agender friend from his college co-op, whom he’s always gotten along well with, in part because he’s never been attracted to them.
It took me a while to twig that QPOC here was assigned female at birth, even though on a second read the juxtaposition is obviously deliberate, but I just can't fathom why our main character appears to have no male, or even AMAB friends. Doesn't that seem utterly bizarre? That he's so self-conscious and self-hating and also totally willing to expose himself and his questions to women and co-workers?
Shouldn't that be explained?
This time she gives him a two-armed shove, sending him to the ground, and instead of yelling, her mouth opens into a smile and she says, “Oh my god are you wearing shoulder pads?”
Tulathimutte knows that sport coats and suit jackets can have shoulder padding, right? Like as a completely normal thing? Why wouldn't our main character wear a suit?
Does Tulathimutte not know about suits?
Anyway... I have trouble placing this story ideologically because the main character is an awful person but his feminist "friends" are gaslighting assholes and I'm really not sure if that part is deliberate or not. They tell him that he should never act like his bro-y co-workers while privately resenting the fact that he doesn't just go ahead and do what it takes to get laid again.
There's also his date with the girl from high school; her neediness and damage turns him off as much as his turns off other people, and also she treats him like shit, but his friends ask why he doesn't see her again.
I have trouble understanding whether we're supposed to see this double standard because, as I said earlier, her damage is comprehensible and sad while his is portrayed as a sort of BOGO deal, where every bad feminist dude has bonus body image issues shrink wrapped to him when he comes out of the factory.
Nothing in this story gives us any sense of why the actions any of the characters take appeal to those characters.
@self-winding I believe it was, said that the main character can't get laid because his try hard feminism is a turn-off and I really hope that's not the point because if it is, Jesus Christ this is just a circa late 2000s Amanda Marcotte style rant about "Nice Guys" that has been sitting in the back of the fridge gathering mold for a decade.
I know I said that I went in wanting to hate it, but I don't want it to be that awful.
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I need to rant for a bit. I may be incoherent; those are the feelings.
I’ve finally read all of 7 tomes I had left waiting of Kaze to Ki no Uta, until the eighth volume. It’s pure suffering and masochism is what I’m saying. In the other hand now I love Serge and Gilbert, but gods why do they have to suffer so much?? damn those 70′s shoujos. I was waiting to have some volumes past the flashbacks and I don’t regret that decision. Now I’ll just wait until the tenth is out and buy the ninth with it to cry bitter tears with the ending - i think after all the disgraces it’ll be a relief to finally end it all. but really the development of serge and gilbert relationship, and serge’s character and those backstories. omg once you read gilbert past his character makes such sense!! it’s no wonder he is how he is. the worst is that he has such potential to be an incredible person; intelligent and kind, so kind, if prone to mind games and second-guessing everything (after his life no one could blame him). he is, like serge said starved of love, and omg that part was very self-reflecting and beautiful. serge is like not exactly naive but yeah. he falling in love with gilbert was such an ugly eye-opener for lots of things about life, but also when he starts growing into himself he is so beautiful ;_;. SPOILER and dammit auguste you filthy rapist!! did you have to touch serge too? SPOILER like really, thankfully he has a strong foundation so he has more self-respect and is able to not take much shit from people but by the volume 7 (i think?) he is traumatized too. i mean. that fucking summer, which started so sweet and ended so ugh. and there is a part where he and gilbert are like super happy and together, and there are a few problems, but gilbert is studying and everybody is like woah, he had an excelent mind all along but doesn’t seem to know the basics of how to interact normally and ugh. fuck auguste really, that ruin-lives. rosmarine wouldn’t be so shitty if it wasn’t for him. (and the way he and serge get along is so sweet ;_;damn why cant they have nice things?) but really. and then serge doesn’t really understand the depth of all the trauma gilbert has and he is like super horrible to him for almost a whole volume besides like misjudging the situation horribly, before understanding what actually was happening all along, and gilbert doesn't say anything, he also loves him and is trying of protecting him in his own fucked up way and thinking that of course serge would left him and all is sergeaugustehisown fault and omg. he is such a mess ;_; the end of volume 8 was so bittersweet.
and pascal and karl and jules woa. those are good secondaries. pascal and karl conversations with serge and between themselves about the whole situation are gold. when pascal said to karl something like “well i don’t know what you and professor watts were expecting when you left all of gilbert recovery in hands of an innocent third party with no idea like serge but you really can’t fault him for caring, after all, about gilbert” bless pascal that if a bit misguided about the whole sex is for reproduction according to biology and so woman are natural way of doing things, doesn’t really judge serge. like, that moment when his sister came to lacombrade and he left her with serge and gilbert, who were enjoying a relaxing afternoon of piano (those are some of my favorite scenes of these two, they are so happy like that ;_; serge composes for the first time because gilbert tells him “why not?” and is fantastic) to like, test her and serge... well at least she ends up talking with gilbert (that scene is golden) about being friends with serge. seems she understood the situation and decided to remain friends... i really liked her character, although well. serge you really are weak for a pretty face uh? although i guess it is more like being weak to people who “needs”/wants his love. with gilbert is mutual, which is why he is such a dick in volume 8 and that is the difference but whoa. the whole story with his cousin angeline...you know, serge is a bit messed up too, but his brand of crazy is less showy and he at least had people to support him until he was like 9 so you don’t notice it like with gilbert. but there is a reason these two go well together when they’re not busy shouting and misunderstanding each other. because well. they fight. a lot xD there is a scene when jules and gilbert sleep together that i was like woa. this isn’t creepy. it’s a one-time thing. gilbert is again trying to cover up his depression and loneliness by sleeping with a guy but that guy actually takes care of him and hasn’t raped him before. is... almost sweet? i mean we get jules perspective on this, and it isn’t really healthy but gilbert is gilbert and he knows what he knows. i was pretty content with it for once. jules is actually an interesting character. it was a surprise seeing how he was watching gilbert go through his ordeal of letting go of auguste and staying with serge and the mess ensuing. his thoughts were.... well. he isn’t exactly fond of serge, but is more like he thinks serge has propelled gilbert to self-destruction by leaving auguste than anything else. like the thoughts of the characters are really warped at points but oh well. they didn’t have good therapy.
and like. serge. the reaction to seeing the uncle of your roomate kissing and messing around with said roommate isn’t to go talk normally with him and accept an invitation to dinner. like gilbert himself said, “woah he has forgotten everything from before just like that”? sadly, it takes time before serge understands the perfidy of auguste. (and meanwhile, gilbert is jealous and angry with him because hello, auguste is trash) although i’m glad he started to noticed it because of the horrible way he treated gilbert. that summer they went to marseilles was bonkers though. gilbert was super happy at the start; i guess because he had his two favorite people around, but then serge started noticing all the wrong in his relationship with auguste and auguste started messing up with him so he would leave, but then serge is super stubborn and he didn’t leave and gilbert didn’t notice anything until serge just couldn’t stand the situation anymore and told him everything about auguste. like. the suffering? and then serge went back alone but at the last minute gilbert also appeared at the station to go with him, because he couldn’t stand what auguste had done to him. ugh. and then for a while, serge doesn’t even touch gilbert. he recoils from it. because fuck auguste. which, of course, gilbert being who he is, takes as serge not caring about him and starts being depressed (x2 this time) and going crazy again. gilbert, please. your value as a person is not in whether people want to have sex with you or not. please ;_; and then they fight a bit more, and they find each other and serge. kisses gilbert, taking the initiative for the first time and it’s beautiful ;_; they start a relationship this time. beautiful. such a difference between their first time together and other sex scenes. they are so sweet.
well. i think i’ve let go of all the thoughts in my head. maybe i’ll post some of the scenes of the manga later ^^
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c2e84
Wow, that was a surpassingly normal ad!
Oh boy here we go lore drop!
Therizdune the chained oblivion who is chained at the bottom of the abyss
"He’s basically the boogeyman" if the boogeyman was a HORRIBLE ELDRITCH MONSTER
...IS the boogeyman a horrible eldritch monster?! Oh god.
[[MORE]]
This is great and awful like terrible abyssal eldritch things that can creep into the world through gaps and rifts encourages people to be violent and awful
Also I’m so satisfied that the chains actually ended up being significant
Okay so Yussah knows a guy who we know knows Trent, so... that’s not cool. I mean o totally trust Yussah now it’s not that, it’s just can we trust Ormid?
So not all the Cerberus assembly is bad re: Yussah. But like he’s basically a hermit living in his tower, yeah? Who doesn’t go into the Empire? So like how out of touch is he?
"Trent seems just creepy" that’s putting it mildly
Money? Ball bearings? xD
Oh nice some of the Halas money
Oh Nott honey
Fjord being like "Nott? Caleb please talk to your goblin."
And they’re just all discussing it in the background
NOTT DO NOT
oh boy don’t like that
Oh dear...
"Your FACE is stupid" oh Nott
Lock the gem away somewhere
"You’ll still work at it and try?" Oh honey of course he will
I like how they handled that. They didn’t put Nott down, they gently reminded her that Halas can’t be trusted.
Oh I hope that doesn’t trigger Caleb
And I hope that didn’t just fuck them over with Halas maybe
Cad’s like "can we not?" and then just silencing everyone who keeps trying to talk to him
Y’all need to call your OTHER wizard friend (aka HOTT BOI) to let him know you’re fine and not dead or anything cause this is probably the longest he’s gone without hearing from you
"Everything’s been smoothed over" I wonder if Dairon had anything to do with that
I wonder where she is...
Also this is late cause he said it like ages ago but I love Cad’s little bits of homely wisdom, like the whole holes in a bucket metaphor.
PLATINUMMMMMMM
A WHOLE SATCHEL
TIME TO BUY A KEEP Y’ALL
Kidding I like the xhorhaus
Holy SHIT
21,000 gold??
That puts them at 350 platinum which is like 3,500 apiece NICE
Please def check in with Orli I miss him
I’m gonna insist they all get either matching M9 tattoos or Captain tusktooth tattooes
ORLIIIII
Oh my
Yeah a charisma bump is a good choice Nott xD
YOU ALL BETTER GET MATCHING TATTOOS
"chaos crew" lol
Imagine the stories those "new faces" have heard of the M9 from the older crew
1312 gold not bad!
Fuck y’all I love Orli! I missed him. I hope Fjord retires and goes back to sailing with Orli and the crew someday.
F: "Can I ask, how painful is this... procedure?"
O: "oh-ho-ho! Quite."
Oh lord
B: "Is that infected? Is that infected?!"
O: "No, he’s just a.....................Pansy."
Girls day!
Ohhh I like that idea Nott! Can’t wait to see the new art of that.
I like the start of the idea but the "like the Traveler’s hugging me" is slightly creepy to me. Idk.
BeauJester shippers just got a gift xD
Oh... Molly’s all seeing eye tattoo. My heart. Taliesin looks really touched.
Omg a nat1
Ouch fuck Matt you didn’t have to describe that
Matt’s like "here’s your pretty tattoo Nott, here’s your very lovely tattoo Jester, here’s your TOTALLY BOMBASS tattoo that goes all the way up the BACK OF YOUR SKULL Beau"
like I’m not saying Matt plays favorites but his wife’s character definitely got the coolest tattoo
Boy talk over fish and chips heck yeah
Mmm gonna get some deep talk from Caleb?
Caleb expressing that he feels like maybe they’ve been brought together for a purpose <3
Cad telling him he’s believed Caleb was meant for something important since the beginning
Caleb the green bean farmer
"The god’s plant us, plant their will and their desire, and we move towards the fruit we’re meant for bear for them." Aw that’s... sweet, Cad.
Fjord being like "idk man I’m still figuring it out" what a mood
Caleb admitting he feels like he should run away
"I have started to forget what it was like not being with you people. And we are missing one, I am stuck on the fact that we are still missing one."
I wish I was fast enough to transcribe word for word this conversation because it’s excellent
I like Fjord’s question of "when you know, do you run away or do the right thing knowing it could kill you"
C: "You two are alright."
Cad: "We’re getting better."
F: "So are you, you know, you should give yourself credit."
C: "Mm..."
Cad: "I know... just think about it."
(Wow my old Widofjord feelings just came back with a vengeance.)
Cad adding in his own encouraging words about how Caleb is growing and becoming better made me happy too
C: "I hate tattoos."
Nott in the distance: AHHHH
C: "they’re just not for me."
Cad: "they’re frowned upon in my family."
And then they go see the girls
"We brought fish and chips—what they fuck"
All the Jester ships are eating well tonight
I’m so glad Jester finally got her cool tattoo
Y’all don’t want to see mom and Yeza and Luc?
lol Jester "I didn’t tell my mom about the tattoo"
"I’ve seen parents find out their kids had tattoos literally at the funeral"
I literally could not tell if that was Cad or Taliesin sharing
You guys didn’t even say bye to Orli! YOU MONSTERS
Boy that talks blurb with Brian talk about Caleb is GOOD SHIT MAN
No Brian don’t stop please go on and on about Caleb
lol Matt getting himself in the face with the paper
I knew Dairon was the one who got them out of trouble <3
EXPOSITOR OUTFIT AYYYY
just got new official art and now Beau gets a new outfit and the girls get tattoos xD
B: "I apologize"
M9: "wwwwwoooooaaaaahhh"
And library access again yay!
HEYYYY DAIRON
Beau gets to be a role model now lol
Oh yikes... selling out the Kryn to the King... don’t like that
Vence... NewTHEYLESS??
I don’t like that
Everyone: *excited freaking about Beau’s expositor room*
Cad, a good 10 seconds behind: "You had a monk bunk."
Dairon admitting she realized her prejudices against the Kryn were wrong. You know what that is? Growth.
They’re all so proud of Expositor Beau
Caleb trying to do "normal" accents is amazing lol
I don’t want him to be split from the group but I definitely understand his concern
Scary world ending lore oh boy
Oh god I forgot about the gentleman being here...
YES NO DO NOT GO ALONE that’s a dumb idea honey Jester please
N about J: "well she convides in everybody. Just says whatever she wants to say all the time."
This whole Beau and Nott conversation is amazing xD
Fjord and Jester: talking
Beau and Nott: talking
Caduceus walking along and enjoying the group communicating and sharing their feelings
Is he an earth genasi?
That’s the second time another wizard has called Yussah a fool, poor guy
I like how Ormid’s like "who the fuck are these people" but he also trusts Yussah enough to listen to them that’s nice
Hmmm I don’t like that’s awfully suspicious
WHISPERSSSSS
He keeps coming back to the beacon and I don’t like it
So like.. what if he is in on the whole thing and is trying to steer them away from looking deeper into the beacon?
Jester honey why you go and name drop Trent?? Like fuck.
Also interesting that both the King and his council have been more aggressive and pro-war lately, and the Bright Queen is also bent on the conflict in a way that I’ve personally felt doesn’t seem to quite mesh with her character, it definitely lends towards the idea that they’re being manipulated
Ormid’s a bit of a dick, although I guess I can understand, they’re not explaining themselves super well
Hng idk how I feel about Ormid and I’m not sure that I like that he now knows Dairon is working to get an audience with the king
But then again I’m bad about telling which NPCs are trustworthy and which aren’t.
Ormid’s face when they mentioned the cat OH MY GOD
okay fine god now I have to trust him
"I know we are talking about very important things but" I’m dying
Y’all fixing to get a symbol of the Cerberus Assembly damn
I don’t necessarily LIKE Ormid not entirely trust him but he’s already
Insight check on Sprinkles to see if he wants to go back with Jester aw
lol getting pet advice from him maybe I like him a little bit
PUMAT SOOOOL
it’s been so long!
PUMAAAAT SOL
Guys I have missed Pumat so much he just brings me so much joy
Fetch quest for Pumat DO IT PLZ
Oh
Wait
Basilisk oil that’s maybe not a great idea
GO SAILING TO THE ISLANDS
They gotta go to islands for Traveler Con right is that close?
"Let me get it from CritRole stats" lol
Oh thank god health potions
Armor boost oil is neat (plus 1 to AC isn’t bad) but ouch it’s pricy
I love that they CANNOT keep money they get it and then they spend it. It’s #relatable
Uh.... what’s happening to my boy?!
Caduceus?!
MATT WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BOY??
45 pats slashing??
WHAT IS HAPPENING
CADUCEUS
oh NO
fuck no
Is there a rift near?!
WHAT THE FUCK
The Inevitable End?
WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Evil assassin person??
45 points of damage fuck
This is bad
Sam: “WE’RE SHOPPING MATT” MOOD
23 doesn’t hit?!
Oh they’re in trouble
God DAMN I’m freaked out omg
Does he have The Invulnerable Vangrent as a map??
God what a cliffhanger
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SENTENCE MEME ⟶ PLEASE LIKE ME / 2.06 –– 2.07
always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.
“I just think I have really bad morning breath.”
“Are you sad?”
“I can’t believe how much I suck.”
“I have to tell you something and it’s not good.”
“I think I’ve been leading you on.”
“It’s just a bit confusing, because I really like you.”
“I like spending time with you. I like hugging you, I like kissing you. I just don’t want to have sex with you.”
“I really think it’s important to be honest about this type of stuff.”
“They broke up with me. Well, we weren’t really together but they ended it and now they’re just playing playstation in my home.”
“He told me it was because he didn’t like my sex, but we never even had sex.”
“He said the truth is important, but truth isn’t important.”
“I wish he had told me it was because I was like, unlikeable or mean or unfunny, but not my sex.”
“I had an erection when he was telling me that he hates the idea of having sex with me.”
“He’s just sitting in the living room shooting zombies as if the zombies were my heart.”
“Don’t you think perhaps the happiness and joy of the zoo won’t just compound my sadness?”
“Perhaps I’ll start crying at the panda exhibit when I learn that pandas are going extinct because they refuse to have sex with each other.”
“You probably think I’m rubbish at sex, but that’s because I wasn’t interested in having sex with you.”
“I’m just trying to take some sad people to the zoo.”
“More or less, he thinks I’m disgusting.”
“Are you sure he didn’t break up with you because of your personality?”
“I’ve never seen meerkats and a sad person at the same time.”
“It says over there that the alpha males eat babies to eliminate competition.”
“We should celebrate his life rather than dwell on his death.”
“I think everybody really likes butterflies.”
“That does not sound like a good way to get popular.”
“I’ve just got a lot going through my brain.”
“I promise you, we do not need to spend any more time together.”
“I’m not crying about this, okay? I’ve just had a weird day.”
“I’m just a bit nervous about everything.”
“I’m just afraid we might have forgotten something.”
“Don’t feel like you need to fill all the quiet, okay?”
“Try not to be the Donkey to my Shrek.”
“Macaroni and cheese, yes, please, macaroni and cheese.”
“People don’t generally like touching me.”
“It’s a horrible idea for you to be home alone so here we are in a creek.”
“I don’t know why she didn’t tell me.”
“She didn’t want to tell me because she knew I’d stop her.”
“Are those all drugs?”
“Have you ever wanted to try and kill yourself?”
“There’s been a few times where, like, I didn’t want to feel anything anymore and it seemed like a nice idea, but all those times passed.”
“I don’t think it’s a big deal, to want to kill yourself for an afternoon. That’s normal.”
“I don’t really want to reflect on the decisions I made as a teenager, to be honest.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you have an opinion on anything.”
“I don’t believe in god, but I don’t like it when you go around telling people he doesn’t exist.”
“But god doesn’t exist.”
“God is clumsy like that.”
“I don’t understand how you never got angry at me.”
“I just try and understand when you do things like this that you’re doing them because you’re ill and then I don’t get angry, the same way you wouldn’t get angry at someone with a cold for having a runny nose.”
“My anger just never felt like a priority.”
“Weed makes me cough and it makes me scared.”
“I am trying to build a fucking bonding moment here.”
“Peer pressured into doing drugs with my mum.”
“You’re bad at interacting with people when you feel self-conscious.”
“You’re always questioning things and seeking approval.”
“I tried to have sex with a watermelon as a teenager. I wasn’t fussy.”
“I thought everyone would be happy if I was dead.”
#rp meme#roleplay meme#sentence meme#sentence starters#starter sentences#KIND / SENTENCE.#KIND / IN CHARACTER.#BASED ON / TV SHOW.
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Fic: Speaking Derekish
Title: Speaking Derekish
Rating: G
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: Derek deserves nice things, for Sterekbingo 2019
Wordcount: 1501
Summary: Stiles discovers a few things about Derek as he stops paying attention to the words Derek is saying but looks for what he’s meaning. He discovers a whole new language.
“And then he was cursing because he never agrees with anything I say, he doesn’t get that..-”
“Derek doesn’t curse, dude.”
Scott stopped talking to look at Stiles who, to be honest, hadn’t been paying that much attention to what his best bud had been ranting about. Because let’s face it, it was either about a Lacrosse game, about Allison, about how hard life was to be with a huntress or hating on Derek. Stiles cared, he really did but his busy mind was only capable of paying attention for so long before it would drift. The whole cursing thing had caught his attention though while Scott frowned at him with that adorable ‘I don’t get it’ look. “What?! Yes he does, he curses all the time.”
“Nope.” He popped the P with exaggeration as the other boy’s frown only deepened. “Pretty sure he doesn’t curse.”
“You’re delusional.” Scott decided on and with a huffed whatever, went back to the topic he had been on while the young Stilinski resumed his thinking. Was he delusional? He had been sure the Hale didn’t curse all that much. He stuck with idiot and moron, said frigging instead of fucking and the exclamation to indicate surprise was a standard ‘Oh my God.’ Stiles noticed these things, you know. However, he wasn’t as sure as he could have been so this warranted some closer investigating for sure.
* * *
Of course, he attacked this new mystery with the same gusto as always, keeping notes, drawings, scribbles and if possible, snapshots. Over the weeks he was watching the local sourwolf closely, with the sole purpose of catching him on cursing, only….there’s so much more to notice. Once he stopped reacting to the words and only paying attention to them in a literal sense, stopped having emotional responses to their stunted communication because he was more invested in what the words were, things started to shift.
There was no surprise about Derek’s pretty horrible way of communicating, because he barely did it and if he did, it was thrown out as blunt as possible with lots of glares, snark and eyebrow movement. Raised by wolves, Stiles had joked once, which he was starting to regret now. He knew, deep down he knew, Derek wasn’t good at any of this because he had lost his parents at sixteen and hadn’t been able to be raised into normal skills after that. Too busy to deal with all the personal trauma, everything had been halted, which is why the older man probably kept gravitating towards teens even now. He was barely out of his teens himself with his emotional maturity. No, what really started to be visible was the way Derek did communicate like he was raised by wolves. Visceral instead of oral and once Stiles had discovered it, there was no unseeing it. He had researched wolves, okay, pack behavior and such. And Derek wasn’t like them, wasn’t raised human, he was raised werewolf. To him, they were probably the weirdos with their chatter and behavior.
Derek didn’t curse, Stiles had been right with that. But he growled and snarled and looked so darkly at people, that it was understandable the others thought he DID curse. He didn’t do it out loud with words, yet everything about the way he said things would suggest cursing was involved, internally. So much cursing.
For all his not touching and growly snarls, he was unknowingly very touchy. Small touches on shoulders or necks, small shoulder bumps and light grazes. Something people wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention to it, Derek especially did it with Isaac. And everything coming out of Derek’s mouth was pretty much focused on keeping the pack safe, protection, defense, attack mode. The bluntness made more sense because the focus wasn’t on being social or nice, it was about keeping everybody alive one more day. And Derek said it best when he wasn’t saying it at all. It was easier to read him now, Stiles paid close attention to the head tilts, the eyebrow movements, the way his body held itself, it was a language all on its own. A sad language which was constantly misinterpreted by the others, completely ignored and disregarded because they all only heard his angry words. And he couldn’t help himself, he started thinking back on past interactions, on what he all had missed himself. A whole freaking lot, that’s what. It made him feel sick to his stomach because he was supposed to see shit like that, and how could he have missed out and probably hurt somebody who...maybe was a friend? Maybe. The answer was simple. He had missed it because Derek never made much of an effort to let others in, to explain anything which included himself.
Not again.
After another grueling pack meeting which had ended in discontent faces all around, Stiles lingered behind as the others left, Derek giving the frowny face when he noticed. “What.” He barked out and the teen wondered if proper infliction and use of question marks in a sentence were about as absent as Derek ‘s eyebrows were in shift to werewolf.
“I’m sorry.” Stiles said and the frown turned into surprised eyebrow raising because the other man clearly didn’t follow why the human felt the need to be sorry.
“For...”
Again, what was with the not asking questions as they should be asked? “For what happened with Gerard, Scott making you give the bite and how we all ignored you after.”
The questionable eyebrows went slightly pinched in Derek Hale’s classic bitch face of ‘what the fuck are you even on about, Stiles’. Yes, he had added his own name to that look because he had noticed he seemed to brought it out, a lot. In this case, it was an understandable look because the whole Gerard thing was a while ago and nothing in the meeting of today even hinted towards that moment so Stiles could understand why Derek felt like he was missing out on a whole conversation predating this one.
“You’ve been reading your diary.”
Stiles snorted amused at the snark Derek throws his way with the proper amount of shading the wolf was capable of handing out. It was one of the reasons why he hated and liked spending time together, the quips and bickering was a thing between them. “No, I’ve been reading you.”
While the human had been expecting the raising of walls and shutting of gates and Derek just balking at the idea of getting this personal, he did none of that. He sighed and nodded in understanding, some tension bleeding away. “So that’s what you’ve been doing the past weeks.”
“Dude! I...-” Spluttering at being caught all this time, he felt a little insulted he hadn’t been as smooth about it as he thought he had been. And then he felt guilty, and why even would he feel that now, fuck Derek Hale and his secret language he could now read. Yeah, he felt guilty for being creeper and probably making Derek all kinds of uncomfortable with his close observations. But come on, Derek was a creeper all the time too so...maybe not as guilty.
“Look, it’s all your fault for not using words like normal people but then I realized you’re not normal people, you’re like normal werewolf. Which still doesn’t excuse you because you need to learn to use words, Derek but I realized too that I missed out on a whole plethora of Derek speak and I should have seen it sooner. What you all did, what Scott did to you with the whole non-con bite after you saved his life because of Freakazoid Argent Mom. We fucked up, no, scratch that, I fucked up because the others don’t really speak your language but I should have so….I’m sorry.”
Derek had listened to the onslaught of words with this weird blank look on his face, as if he couldn’t follow what just happened. And then his face crumbled into this whole pained look and Stiles knew what was about to leave his mouth. The whole ‘I deserved it’ spiel the older man was so good at. Because he truly believed he didn’t deserve anything nice and acted like it, and they all had enabled that behavior all this time, using him as the scapegoat because he didn’t behave as the rest of them.
“Nope, no, you don’t get to say that. I’m onto you now and this….” He motioned to the blame face Derek was sporting. “This isn’t going to work on me again. Dude, I totally speak your language now and it’s going to be awesome! You and me, bud, we’re going to be getting along now, yeah?”
“Like you give me a choice.” Derek huffed.
“No way. I’m going to be the best friend you ever had and you’re not getting rid of me now, I’ve got your back. Which is a very nice back so it’s not really that much of a crime to have.” Right, maybe he should have taken his meds so he would have had more of a filter. Derek didn’t really react much to it, which Stiles now knew meant he liked but didn’t know what to do with it, yet.
“Stiles….”
“Yeah buddy?”
“Don’t call me dude.”
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Golden Cuffs 38: The Man
Cover art by TEA Nominee @paradigmparadoxical
Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU
Belle and Jefferson get to know each other
So as of now, Golden Cuffs is a TEA Nominated Fic in the category of Best Smut (BDSM)! And the cover art by Paradgimparadoxical was nominated for Best Cover Art! Thank you to everyone who nominated me, and don't forget to vote when the time comes!
Trigger warnings for mentions of abuse and anal rape. I'm sure this isn't remotely how sex therapy works, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!
Read on AO3
Belle bit her lower lip as Jefferson got up. He walked away from Leona and Rumple to be with her. They stood together in the center of the pit sunken into the ground, a nest lined with pillows and cushions where the four of them would spend the night enjoying each other’s company. On the outer edge of the nest, Leona sprawled her naked body against the plush bench. She leaned against Rumpelstiltskin in leisurely satisfaction, her skin still flushed from the pleasures she had shared with Belle.
Rumple wore a dressing gown that covered his arms, legs, and body. He sat stiffly next to Leona on the bench, neither pushing the woman away, nor inviting her any closer. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jefferson and Belle.
“Go on,” he said. His voice was thick with emotion, but his face held no clue as to which one. “Take her, my boy.”
Jefferson gave out a brief chuckle and looked at his feet. Was he bashful about being so directly instructed? But Belle had no shame, not now. She had just fucked this man’s wife while he had watched, and her owner had just commanded him to fuck her. This was no time to timid.
She reached out to take his hand. It was soft and warm, large enough to cover her hand entirely. She squeezed his fingers.
“It’s alright,” Belle said. “I’d like to know you as well as I know your wife.” She paused a moment before adding, “Perhaps as well as you know Rumple.”
Jefferson’s mouth opened, as if he were going to protest or make a denial. But then he didn’t, he just smiled. His eyes flicked over to Rumpelstiltskin and he swallowed. “I guess we weren’t exactly subtle.”
Belle put her other hand on Jefferson’s arm. “Are you ashamed to have been his lover?”
“Oh, gods no,” he said. “But I wanted to consider your feelings. Not everyone is as comfortable with sharing as Leo and me.”
She made herself smile. It didn’t bother her that Jefferson had been Rumple’s lover once, or even that Rumple wanted him still. It only hurt to think that Jefferson thought that Rumple was Belle’s the way Leona was his.
“Well, I have no claim on him.” Belle deadened her heart to the words coming out of her mouth. “He owns me, not the other way around.”
“Right,” Jefferson said slowly. He scratched the back of his neck, fingers brushing against his leather collar. Leona’s was exactly the same. “So he can just give you to anybody? Without any regard for your opinion? Or your safety?”
Belle breathed in sharply, tightening her jaw as she took her hands off his body. How much did Jefferson know about what had happened to her? Was he baiting her with these questions? Was he trying to make her angry with Rumple?
“That is the deal I’ve made,” she answered stiffly. “I obey him in all things.”
Jefferson nodded, considering her words. “Well, I made a different deal. And I’m not going to be a part of doing something that you don’t like. I can do a lot of things with a lot of people, but never against their will.” He squared his broad shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Now our mutual friend has told me what he expects of me. He wants me to fuck you. Very specifically, he wants me to fuck your ass.”
Belle blinked, surprise supplanting her indignation. She looked back and forth between Jefferson and Rumple. “Did he tell you why?”
“No,” Jefferson said. “Do you know?”
The guard in Regina’s castle. It had to be because of him. The handsome young man hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He had wept and begged Regina not to make him rape Belle. But the queen had been merciless. She had forced him to force himself on Belle, specifically on her ass. The pain of that violation had been horrible, unspeakable. And it was made all the worse to see that poor guard’s misery throughout the whole encounter. When she thought about it, she could still feel his tears on her back, still hear his sobbing apologies in her ears.
Belle looked at Rumple. “You want him to want to do that. You want him to enjoy it.”
Rumple cocked his head to the side. “I want you to enjoy it too,” he quipped brightly.
Should she laugh or should she sob? Belle rubbed her face and sank to her knees on the cushioned ground.
So this was Rumple’s idea of making things better? He thought it would help her to have the same experience made into a joy instead of a torture. Perhaps he was right. Being with Leona had put away the thoughts of Regina and Maleficent’s bodies, at least temporarily. Perhaps this would do the trick as well. If she had Jefferson volunteer to perform the same action the guard had been forced to do, perhaps that would allow for happier memories to take hold in her mind. The next time her thoughts wandered to the image of a handsome young man fucking her in the ass, she would be able to tell herself that she was thinking of Jefferson, and not that poor wretch in Regina’s thrall.
When she looked up, Jefferson was sitting beside her, propped up on pillows, a concerned furrow in his brow.
“Listen,” he said. “I know what you mean about your deal. I know what it’s like to owe your survival to the Dark One.” Jefferson ran his tongue over his teeth, like he was thinking. After a moment, he lifted up his leather collar, just far enough up his neck that Belle could see a long, thin scar spanning the entire length of his throat. “He and I have a long and eventful history together. Believe me when I tell you I understand the impulse to make him happy. But I will not do anything you don’t want, Belle. I don’t have a lot of principles, but that’s one of them.”
“You would say no to him?” Belle asked skeptically. “You?”
For all that he wore a hat that allowed him to travel between worlds, Jefferson seemed to have no magic of his own. Certainly, he had no power to match the might of Rumpelstiltskin. Until now, he hadn’t seemed to be the sort to stand up to the people. His compliant, easygoing nature was one of his most endearing qualities. Belle had seen him act perfectly content to be led around by stronger personalities--first his wife and then Rumple. Why would he take a stand about this? About her?
“I have limits,” Jefferson said seriously. “Everybody does. I expect the people I interact with to respect my limits.”
“Well that’s very nice for you.” Belle found herself suddenly furious, suddenly about to weep. “But I don’t always have that luxury!” She covered her face with her hands. Oh gods, she was going to cry.
Jefferson opened his arms and Belle slid into his embrace. Huddled against his bare chest, her body racked with sobs. Why did she keep doing this? She had been having a good time! Why had she started feeling?
“I know,” Jefferson murmured as he held her, rocked her. “I know. And I’m sorry.” He rubbed her back, his fingers tracing the lines of her scars. He buried his face in her hair to whisper in her ear. “Tell me it isn’t always this bad. Please tell me he doesn’t make you feel this way all the time.”
Belle shook her head. “No, it used to be wonderful. Sometimes it still is. Having you both here is him apologizing to me. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”
Clutching her tightly, Jefferson placed a kiss on her temple. “It can, if you want it to. I’m sorry you don’t always have choices, Belle. But right now you do. I won’t make this decision for you. What do you want to do?”
She choked back a bitter laugh. When had it ever mattered what she wanted?
But with Jefferson, it did matter. What she wanted seemed to matter quite a bit. Whatever she told him, he would go along with it. He would support her, defend her. She could say she wanted to spend the rest of the night alone in the library and Jefferson would do everything he could to make that possible.
Of course, spending any night alone was currently Belle’s greatest nightmare. But the point still stood: Jefferson cared about her limits, he would respect them when she told him what they were. Even having that, even just having the promise of safety gave Belle comfort.
In their own way, Jefferson and Leona were as powerful as Rumple, even if it was only that they had the courage of their convictions. They were right and they would stand up for their own rightness. The two of them would keep Belle safe in a way that Rumple didn’t seem to want to anymore. They cared about her. They would protect her until she could protect herself.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Belle sat back in Jefferson’s arms. She took a moment to admire his body. He had broad shoulders and muscled arms. His chest had only a few dark hairs around his nipples. More hair collected beneath his navel, trailing down to his groin. His cock was soft, but flushed with arousal--understandable, considering the naked woman in his lap.
He looked like the guard, she saw it now. Both of them were handsome, young and fit, chiseled jaws and tousled brown hair. But the guard’s eyes had been brown and soulful, constantly overflowing with tears. Jefferson’s eyes were slate blue. Though they were serious now, they normally sparkled with merriment. It would be nice to see Jefferson’s smile again.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, resting her weight against his body. He was strong enough to accommodate her. She straddled his waist, angling her breasts and hips for his perusal. Acting with the confidence she wanted more than what she had, Belle leaned against Jefferson to whisper in his ear, “I still do want to get to know you better.”
He looked up at her. His tongue darted in and out between his lips. “Are you sure?”
Belle shook her hair back, putting her breasts on full display. “Quite sure.”
Jefferson moved to hold her by the hips, his large hands warmly grazing her soft skin. “We can stop whenever you need to,” he said even as he looked at her body and not her face, even as his expression grew more lustful. “Just say one word and I’ll stop. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Belle.”
She touched his face. “You won’t.”
She bent her head and kissed him on the lips. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. His kiss was gentle and inviting, welcoming her into this moment. When they broke apart, Jefferson made a trail of kisses from her neck down to her breasts. As he sucked on her, she felt a line of taut pleasure pulling from her secret places up to her nipples. Belle’s back arched in pleasure, and she dug her nails into his broad back.
With a pop Jefferson released his hold on her nipples. He grinned up at her, his eyes shining. “Okay!” he said. “Now we’re back in business!”
His cock had hardened while he’d sucked on her. Belle felt the hot weight of it pressing against her thigh. What a lovely compliment that was, that his body wanted her, that she had made him hard so quickly. Belle felt her own body responding, her own pleasure building. Jefferson’s desire added fuel to her own fires.
“I do think,” Belle heard her voice as silky, seductive, “that we should do as Rumple says.” She moved Jefferson’s hands from her waist to her bottom. “I would like it if you fucked me here.”
A jolt went through the man at her words, his hands gripped tightly at her flesh. “Really?” he asked, just a little breathless.
With one finger, she traced the outside of his ear and he shuddered in response. It felt good to have a man want her this much but still be so considerate. It felt like she was taking control, like she was giving the orders for once.
“Yes,” Belle whispered, her breath hot and sultry against his ear. “Please.”
Nodding vigorously, Jefferson broke his gaze with Belle and turned to his wife. “Leo,” he called. “Can you get in the bag and give me the jar?”
“Right-o!” Leona grinned and reached for the leather satchel that they had brought with them.
What was in that bag? Rumple had mentioned accessories, and Leona had spoken of toys. Belle didn’t entirely know what either of them meant, but she had no doubt that she would learn before the end of the night. In the mean time, Leona had produced a small jar in brown glass. She tossed it to her husband and he caught it in one hand.
“Thank you, my love,” he said.
Leona winked at them. “Give us a good show!” she cackled as she settled on the bench next to Rumpelstiltskin.
Rumple was still unmoving. His eyes were focused on them, but his face was still a mask. Belle couldn’t remember the last time he had been so closed off.
Jefferson didn’t seem to notice. He gave them both a boyish smile before he turned back to Belle. He held the jar out for her to see before he unscrewed the cap.
“This is called lubricant,” he explained. “I picked it up in a shop on the Street of Negotiable Affection in Ankh-Morpork, in Leo’s world. I know the Dark One has an oil he likes to use for these purposes, but this is the non-magical solution.”
Jefferson dipped his fingers into the jar and pulled out a gob of a clear substance. It looked like a giant drop of water balanced on his two fingers. But the droplet didn’t run down his hand in rivulets, it stayed just as it was. He held out the jar and invited Belle to take some as well.
“It’s… cold,” Belle said as she examined the stuff on her fingers. Lubricant. There was no odor to it, and it looked as clear as a mountain stream. She had expected the substance to be sticky, but when she spread her fingers apart, they separated easily, leaving only threads of the clear material to connect one glob to the other.
“It does warm up the more you rub it,” Jefferson said, sliding his other hand over his fingers to demonstrate.
Belle did the same, aware of the gesture she was making as she did so. The lubricant was slick on her fingers, and the more she played with it, the more it reminded her of her own wetness.
Oh.
“You say this serves the same function as Rumple’s oil?”
“Mm-hmm,” Jefferson said. “Makes everything so much easier.”
With a pang of sorrow, Belle remembered the guard. He had begged and pleaded with Regina for a way to ease his passage into Belle’s body. Of course the queen had refused, she had wanted to hurt him, hurt them both. But with this lubricant, Belle and Jefferson would both be able to enjoy what they were about to do.
Jefferson spoke, “Do you, uh, do you want to put some on me?”
Her mind elsewhere, Belle looked down at the glistening goo in her hands. “On your cock?”
“Yeah,” he said huskily. “That’s a good way for us to get to know each other. Feel free to use a lot.”
Belle scooped a handful of lubricant out of the jar and held it in her palm. Jefferson stood in front of her now, his cock red and rampant, extended as though it was reaching out to her. She took it in her hands.
Jefferson’s cock was thicker than Rumple’s, perhaps a little longer, though not enough that she would notice when it was inside her. The color surprised Belle more than any other difference. She was used to seeing Rumple’s body flushing dark green in the places that aroused him most. But Jefferson’s skin was the same color as her own, the blood in his veins turning areas red and brown. A vein traversed the length of his cock, something she had never noticed on Rumple. Perhaps green-gold skin allowed for better camouflage.
With both hands, she coated Jefferson’s cock with lubricant. He hissed when the cool substance met his heated flesh, but as Belle rubbed, the temperature became more comfortable. His breathing slowed, his eyes closing in sensation. Her hands slid over him, and she had to work to grip at his hardness.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said, pulling himself out of her grasp. He opened his eyes and took an exaggerated sigh. “You’re good at this, Belle. If I’d let you keep going you would have popped me off before I could do anything for you.”
Belle blushed. She almost wanted to thank him for the compliment.
Jefferson looked around the pit, calculating the best way for them to proceed. “Let’s do this,” he said at last. “Get up on the bench with your knees on the seat, facing out. That way you can grip the edge if you need support.”
Wiping the drying lubricant on her thighs to get it off her hands, Belle got into the position he had described. They picked a spot a few feet away from where Rumple and Leona were sitting. The other two would have a full view of the proceedings, but Belle wouldn’t have to look at them if she didn’t want to. Had Jefferson planned that? Had Rumple told him to do it that way?
She took a breath, and kept her eyes focused on what was in front of her. This wasn’t about Rumple. He had temporarily abdicated his right to her attention, yielded his time with her to Jefferson. In this moment, Belle didn’t have to think about him.
The bench was upholstered in plush velvet, crimson red, the color of lust. The fabric was soft and rich under Belle’s fingers. The thick padding was easy on her knees. She rested her cuffs against the back of the bench, looking out onto the floor of the otherwise unfurnished tower room.
Jefferson stood behind her, his hands resting on her waist. “How you holding up, beautiful?”
Belle nodded slowly. How had he known? She herself hadn’t been aware of how overwhelmed she was until this moment. But, somehow, Jefferson knew.
“Can you talk to me, gorgeous?” He rubbed his hands up and down her sides, like one would pet the flank of a nervous horse.
“I’m alright,” Belle said softly. “This has just become… rather a lot, all of a sudden.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No.” She wanted to see what Jefferson could do, if his body would be as good for her as the rest of him had been.
“Okay,” he said. “Let me know if that changes. Right now I’m gonna touch your pussy.”
Belle made a low, desirous sound in her throat. She spread her knees apart, to give him better access.
Jefferson chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes, please.”
His fingers dipped inside her and he swore. “Fuck, you’re wet. Leo did a good job on you, huh?”
She turned her head to give him a dazed smile. “You helped too.”
Jefferson played in her wetness, spreading it around her backside. “I could almost go without the lubricant,” he remarked. “But I won’t.” He exhaled slowly as he kept touching her. “Gods, Belle. This is going to feel so good.”
Despite her earlier thoughts, Belle looked over at Rumpelstiltskin, to see what he thought of all this. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He wanted Jefferson to want Belle. He wanted her to know how desirable she was. Would he be pleased to see them obeying him?
Still, he was expressionless. He looked over at them, watching Jefferson spread lubricant and wetness all over Belle’s bottom. His face was completely unreadable. Belle kept staring at Rumple, silently begging him for a sign. Did he approve of this? Was he happy? Was she doing what he wanted?
After a moment of observation, she found her sign. His breathing was slow and steady, deliberate. His lips were parted, ever so slightly. No one else would have noticed. Only a person who had spent hours studying Rumpelstiltskin would have seen the subtle difference.
Most telling of all, one of his hands had drifted to Leona’s thigh and rested there. This was less a signal that he desired Leona, but that he had become distracted enough to not mind her. His defenses had lowered. Belle bit her lip to hide her smile. Something was stirring in him.
“I’m gonna open you up now, gorgeous.” Jefferson’s thick voice brought Belle back to herself. His hands spread apart the flesh of her backside and he slowly slid one finger inside her.
Belle rocked back into his touch, her body instantly ready for more. He gave her more, adding fingers and moving them around. Gripping the top edge of the bench, Belle leaned back against Jefferson’s chest, relishing the fullness and the perverse delight of this sensation. With his other arm wrapped around her waist, Jefferson supported her. He held her up so she could fall apart.
“If you feel adventurous, you can touch your pretty clit while I’m inside you.”
“My what?” Belle breathed the question.
Jefferson’s hand slid down her stomach to reach into her short curls. His fingers pressed against her flesh until he found the spot that made her jump and squeal in pleasure. “That’s called your clitoris, Belle. Clit, for people who like their dirty talk short and strong. The word doesn’t exist in this world, but it damn well should. You know what this thing does though, don’t you? Even if you don’t know the name?”
“Oh yes,” Belle shuddered, her eyes fluttering closed at what both of Jefferson’s hands were doing to her.
He gave the spot a rough pinch. Her clitoris. “Tell me what it does, pretty girl.”
“It gives me pleasure,” Belle whimpered. “It makes me come.”
“Fuck yes, it does,” Jefferson muttered. The longer they did this, the more comfortable he seemed to be. Once they had firmly established what Belle wanted, he was more than happy to give it to her. “So if you wanna touch it and get yourself off while I’m buried balls deep in your asshole… well that would be just peachy.”
Peachy? But Belle didn’t have time to ask for another vocabulary lesson. The brush of his cock against her slick back opening suddenly occupied all of her attention.
“Are you ready for me, darlin’?”
“Yes,” Belle whispered.
“Good girl.”
In one motion, slow but unstopping, Jefferson pushed his cock into her ass. Using the lubricant meant there was no pain, but Belle felt the fullness of him, the hardness of him, with a force that almost took her breath away. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms.
“Oh,” she moaned, a high, needling sound, like a wounded animal. Quickly, she added, “I’m alright!”
“Good.” Jefferson’s chest was flush against her back, she felt the heat of him seeping into her skin. “That’s a good, good girl.”
They were still for a moment. Belle breathed, resting her weight against Jefferson. He kept one hand over her stomach, the other on her hip.
“You wanna lean forward for me, beautiful? Brace your hands on the edge?”
Without speaking, Belle did as Jefferson said. Her hands felt strangely heavy as she moved them to the velvet bench. She saw Rumple’s face reflected in the gold of her cuffs. Slowly, she turned her head to see him.
His mouth was more open now, his red tongue licking his lips. Belle licked her own lips as she looked at him, her mind filled with a hazy, heady, satisfaction. This was what he wanted. This was what she wanted. For the first time in so long, their desires were united, even while her body was being used by another man.
Bent over as she was, Belle felt the full length of Jefferson’s cock in her ass. He pulled out a little, slowly at first, and then pushed himself back in to her. Stroke by stroke, he went in and out, faster and faster until they were well and truly fucking.
“Gods, you feel so good, Belle,” he grunted. “Are you feeling good? Gods, do you even know how tight you are? You’re amazing. You’re so fucking good”
“Thank you,” Belle whispered. She closed her eyes and let him shower her with praise. Perhaps it was vain, but she needed to hear those words. In his constant mutterings, Jefferson gave her not only compliments, but a true gift--his desire.
The guard had wept and pleaded over her, apologised and begged to stop. But Jefferson was the opposite in every way, and his words proved it. He relished taking her. He appreciated her beauty, her body, her willingness to be used. He seemed grateful for her, and his praise was his show of gratitude. She hadn’t realized how much she needed that, as an antidote to what had been done to her. Her body wasn’t shameful. It wasn’t a punishment for a man to be asked to fuck her. Men wanted her. Jefferson wanted her. And he said so, over and over.
Jefferson’s body followed his words. His strong arms wrapped around Belle’s torso, his large hands kneading at her breasts and between her legs to give her pleasure. He seemed to crave her sighs and moans as much as she hungered for his. She tried to follow his advice and touch herself, but she needed both hands to support herself against the bench as his cock slammed into her again and again.
Belle heard a femine moan that did not come from her own throat. When she opened her eyes, she saw Leona, on her knees next to Rumple, her dark eyes fixed on the two of them. One hand grabbed at her round breast and plucked at her nipple. Leona’s other hand was buried between her thighs, furiously pleasuring herself.
“Oh,” Belle moaned. “Oh Jefferson, look at her.” He had to see his wife, he had to see how beautiful she was. She felt him turn his head away from her to look at Leona.
“Oh fuck!” Jefferson shouted as his hips jerked and bucked in a frenzy. “Fuck, Leo!” His body fell against Belle’s and his cock pumped out his pleasure into her ass.
As he softened, Belle’s body began to twitch and jerk. Suddenly empty, her backside gyrated back and forth, as it had when he had been inside her. Jefferson’s seed mixed with the lubricant and her own wetness and the whole mess leaked out of her in a sensation that was as disgusting as it was arousing.
“Touch me,” Belle begged. It didn’t matter which one of them answered. “Please, someone, make me come!”
Jefferson was closest, and not too overwhelmed with his own satisfaction to leave her wanting. “I’ve got you,” he assured her. He slipped his hand into her cunt, his fingers slipping in her wetness as he felt for her clitoris. “You’re gonna come so good for us, aren’t you, Belle?”
She whimpered her assent, her body shaking and pleading for release. Jefferson’s fingers were quick and clever. He kept his body over hers, so they stayed together as he held her up with one arm. They sat up so Belle’s legs were spread open, her cunt on display for Rumple and Leona as Jefferson fingered her into oblivion.
She came with a moaning wail, throbbing against Jefferson’s hand. He pulled her back onto his chest as she panted and trembled. Together they rolled onto the pillowed ground, collapsing and catching their breath.
Leona rushed off the bench to kiss them both. “That was amazing!” she cried. “You were so good with her, my love. And Belle, you took his cock like a fucking champion, you were incredible!”
Belle returned Leona’s kisses, and smiled dreamily as the married couple embraced each other. At least she got to be between them. At least Leona had to reach around her to get to Jefferson. If Belle would never be loved herself, at least she could have this glimpse of what love looked like between other people.
It was beautiful.
Rumpelstiltskin stood up from the bench. He didn’t join the three of them on the floor, but towered over them in his dressing gown.
“Excellent work, my boy,” he declared. “Belle, how do you feel?”
Belle wiped a bit of fluid away from her mouth. It was probably saliva, but she couldn’t say whose. “I’m a trifle tired, truth be told.”
Rumple’s mouth quirked into a grin. “But we’re only halfway through!” He looked at Leona. “Mrs. Ogg, would you like to show my girl the contents of your little bag?”
Leona grinned and scrambled to her feet to fetch it. “I wanna get you in the nuddy, too, don’t forget!”
Rumple’s expression soured a little at the mention of him getting undressed. “All in good time.”
“No time like the present,” Jefferson smiled up at Rumple. “You gotta give me a reason to get hard again.”
“The reason is Belle,” Rumple said softly. He produced a steaming wash rag and crouched on the ground to reach Jefferson’s hands. Tenderly, he took the other man by the wrist and began to clean off his fingers.
“Me?” Belle whispered. Rumple was so close to her, but he wasn’t looking at her. He spoke of her, but he didn’t seem to be thinking of her.
He looked at her now. “You, my sweet. I want Jefferson to use his magnificent cock on you one more time before we’re through.”
With the hand holding the rag, Rumple gestured to Jefferson’s groin. Belle got up off of the man and knelt beside him. She watched as Rumple--delicately, and with obvious enjoyment--applied the warm cloth to Jefferson’s cock. He cleaned up the filth that their pleasure had created, and Jefferson moaned with renewed desire.
“My husband won’t be the only one who gets to use a cock on Belle, I hope.” Leona joined them again. She sat down with her bag on her lap. After rummaging through it, she pulled out something that seemed to be made entirely of brown leather straps.
“All in good time,” Rumple repeated. “For now, why don’t you let Belle see your toys?”
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Ok my dear @you-gonna-break-my-heart-covey , i just finished the society and there is sooooo much to process. You probably did not expect this whe you said you were interested in my opinion but .. sorry i had to get my thoughts off my chest.
First things first - this show is complex and i like that.
Did anything happen like i wanted and expected it!? No. Hell no.
My thought to on the characters..
Allie. I do not partucularly like her - but i liked the way she handled things. She never wanted that kind of power but she did the best she could for a teenager!! She tried to be fair. She tried to be objectively. She did what she thought was best for everyone and not just for her and her friends. She even put Will aside for her duty. She loved and supported Cassandra even though she was dissapointed by her and like she said herself had always been in her shadow. I respect that.
Will. I really like him. He is quiet, does think before he talks and acts. He is so loyal and thoughtful. I do not really have any bad thoughts about him. Being torn between two people is a normal thing to happen. So no shame in that.
Kelly. At first i did not really like her. But when she left Harry she became such a great person. I love how caring she is. She even cares for Harry who clearly is some spoiled asshole. She did everything for everyone. She safed lifes! She noticed Beccas "condition". She is such a strong girl and an Angel.!
Harry. I hate him. He did not get shit about their situation and still thought he was something better. Because of what!? Because of the money his parents had!? Like i said, for me he is just some spoiled fuck. He never achieved anything on his own and clearly he's not planing on it. He is just weak. But to be fair he was quiet nice to Allie sometimes.
Campbell. You can hate me for that but .. i actually did not hate him. There are people there who made terrible decisiouns while having ectual feelings and empathy. He doesn't. I don't know how it is to be like him so i'm not in the place to judge him and his actions. Sure for a normal thinking and feeling person what he does is terrible and i'm so sorry for all the people he makes suffer but he does not know it better. Sometimes i think he is just bored and curious how people arw going to react like the time he almost drowned Elle. And sometimes i think he actually means well but he is just not able to do it right because he just can't be like a normal person. Ofcourse he knows somethings he does are not right because his parents told him but he does not know why because he just does not feel this way.
Elle. First i thought she was kind of boring. But god help me she is so strong. Yes she tried to kill Campbell and then herself but getting your butt uo to do something is some hardcore shit. I think she sometimes even feels sorry for Campbell. And i totally love her for trying to keep the others safe even though they weren't even friends in school. She is really strong and dealing with Camp just to safe others and trying to stop him makes her a real fighter. You go girl. You can do it.
Gwen. I hated her for being kind of a bitch and telling her girlfriends she met someone new while still being with Clark. And the relationship faking thing .. but i liked that she went with Grizz to find land. And i even kind of like her reaction to him coming out. It was natural and she handled it pretty good. She has two faces - one i like and the one that annoyes me so fucking much.
Jason. He's not the brightest but i really liked him. He treated his friends and his girlfriend really good in my opinion. He was loyal to Allie and tried to do his best. And even after he joined Harry and Camp to bring down Allie .. i hates that but i think he is still a good person. Easy to manupulate but yeah ..
Clark. Same as Jason. Not bright but actually a nice guy who treated his girlfiend and friends good. Even though he said that about Grizz in episode 10.. but i forgive him. He did his job well. Like Jason sadly easy to manipulate but still not a bad person in heart . And he's a low key movie nerd - which i find rather cute.
Helena. Like Elle she bored me but became one of my faves. She was strict i what she believed and i respect that with all my heart. She's really good to Luke and so faithful. When Allie made her defend Dewey, she was so good. She was so neutral and did everything a Lawyer should do. She surprised me in so many ways. I love how quiet and straight she is. She is the most grown up in my opinion
Luke. A really good boyfriend and friend. He is loyal and soft, i like that. I love how patient he is. Not much guys would have waited for their girlfriend to be ready to sleep with them so long. AND THE WAY HE GAVE HER THAT RING WAS GOLDEN. Well the decision to help Harry, Lexie and Camp.. debatable. Not a good one but actually maybe better than what could have happened to him if he denied.
Lexie. No. Just no. I don't like her. I get that what Jason and Clark did to her was horrible for her. But who the fuck does she think she is to think she could do anything better than Allie!? I think She recognized that it was a shitty idea but well .. we will see how she manages her self made debacle
Grizz. Babyboy is my light. I love his friendship with the guys - he clearly is the smart one but he still does not make his friends feel dump. He is such a great friend and support. He thinks before he acts. He is rather quiet. He is friendly. He does not judge and he is willing to give and not just take. He knows how important it is that they can feed themselves by farming and he does have some balls to lead the expedition after what happened the last time. He is so precious.
Sam. He is so pure. He tries to do everything right. He grew up with Campbell and he still turned out perfect. And isn't he the best friend ever!? He puts Beccs wellbeeing and happiness before his even though it had not so nice consequences for him. I love him so much.
Bean. This girls is smart, funny, beautiful and just so awesome. Nothing more to say. Respect girl.
Gordie. He is such a pleasant person. He is smart and uses his knowlege helping wherever he can. I really like him, lovable fella.
Cassandra. I did not like or hate her. She was a good leader in my opinion. She was the most grown up athe the time she was still alive. She startes something great that sadly not everyone apriciared ..
Jessica. Just a minor character but when she showed up to the meating in her prom dress .. damn girl you are awesome! I like her!
Becca. I really respect her for beeing such a good friend to Sam and making the best out of a situation that would have been the most horrible thing for me. She is brave and smart. I really love her even though i think it's not fair to keep the fathers baby to herself. I mean .. Sam is her best friend, does she really think he would judge her!? I don't even think he would if itbis Campbell but everybody makes mistakes now and then.
Erika. She seems sweet and soft. She does not say much but i liked the few words she said and she seems to be a good girlfriend.
Looooong story short. I love the societ. I kept me interested and that's not easy.
The theory that they are all dead .. who knows!? Maybe. Maybe not.
A memorial wall seems kinda normal after not seei g your kids for month. Hard to not think they are all dead. Abd .. the bus driver .. was obvious. Kinda bugged me that they just realized him in the last episode but hey.. the had a society to build.! Or better drivers he couldn't have habdled all buses alone.
I have major maze runner feels!
I'm so happy Charly is alive!
Uhgh i'm so hyped i need a season 2 .. NOW 😭😭
#the society netflix#the society luke#the society clark#the society grizz#the society elle#the society allie#the society harry#the society gwen#the society sam#the society bean#the society campbell#the society gordie#the society cassandra#the society becca
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