#I know life is unfair and acknowledge that I’m the first to do so

[kavehater]

Truthfully it would be easier if I just isolate myself from everyone simply because after so long of just shoving things down and being told to shove things down and being told to get over it and stop being sensitive I’ve become so much more sensitive after being so unfeeling and it’s ruining everything

Not even having aventurine could fix this 😔🙏 LOLLL

[strawberryjimin13]

MIDNIGHT WHISPERS | JEON JUNGKOOK ᯓ★

— Synopsis: On a cold night by the Han River, you confront your deepest despair, only to find solace and hope through the comforting presence of your boyfriend, Jungkook.

— Pairing: Jungkook x reader

— Genre: pure fluff, tiny angst, comfort, drabble, established!relationship

— Warnings: Tiny angst, unhealthy communication with parents, self-doubt, reader being terrible with emotions and opening up :’)

— Word count: 1.4k

— English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes or typos!

The leaves shook lightly in the chilly night air. Everything was so quiet and still that it almost felt like time was frozen. Gazing into the sky, standing next to the Han River, you shivered slightly at the unforgiving cold.

“I shouldn’t be out this late,” you thought to yourself. It wasn’t safe to venture out at this hour, and you knew better than anyone the risks of being in an empty place with no one around to hear or see. The world felt cruel and unfair. For a moment, you just wanted to forget everything plaguing your mind. You wanted to forget about the argument you had with your parents, how you felt tired of all your efforts going unappreciated. The only thought in your head was to take a leap into the river and end all your miseries, washing away your existence.

Your hands gripped the railing tightly as you closed your eyes, trying to stop the tears from escaping and taking deep breaths to soothe the burning pain in your throat. “This is so stupid,” you thought again. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t. Years of repressing your emotions had led you to not even acknowledge them anymore, but how long could you keep up that facade? How long until the dam broke, and all hell broke loose?

You sniffled and wiped your eyes before pulling your hoodie sleeves down to warm your hands. It was colder than usual, and you had forgotten how unforgiving the cold air could be. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you straightened up, deciding to return home for the time being.

As you turned around, a yelp escaped your mouth unconsciously as you saw a hooded figure of a man in a leather jacket walking towards you. Panic set in, and you thought about how this was what you got for being out so late. It was half past one in the morning. You contemplated your next course of action, but before you could do anything, the hooded figure removed the hood, and the biggest sigh of relief escaped you.

You placed a hand over your chest to calm your thrumming heart. “You scared me! Oh my God! I was this close to just jumping into the river, Jungkook!” you yelled.

A little giggle escaped Jungkook. “I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to scare you. It completely slipped my mind how suspicious the hoodie looks,” he said, looking apologetic.

“I just saw my life flash before my eyes,” you replied, for a moment completely forgetting about your previous dilemmas. Jungkook had that effect on you, making all your worries seem insignificant. His silly antics and comforting presence made you feel free of all responsibilities, a feeling you didn’t want to let go of.

“Your mom called me, worried that she couldn’t reach you. I told her you were sleeping at my place to calm her down, but Y/N, you had me worried too… Disappearing this late at night? Are you out of your mind? I’m just glad your location wasn’t turned off so I could find you” Jungkook gently scolded you, his words laced with heavy emotions that let you know he was aware of your inner turmoil.

“Just know that whenever you are ready to open up, I will always be here for you as a boyfriend but more importantly as a friend,” he offered you a small understanding smile. Something in you snapped, and the next thing you knew, you were crying into his chest, gripping his shirt as if he would dissipate into thin air if you let go. Jungkook was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around you. It broke his heart to see you in such a state. He knew you as a strong person who always pulled through tough times. He had seen you do it countless times, yet he also understood that everyone has their flaws. For you, it was the struggle with sharing or processing your emotions, often leading to outbursts like this.

Your crying slowed, and eventually, you were barely sniffling. You rested your head against Jungkook’s heart, letting the rhythm calm you down while still holding him in a tight grip. “I feel like a failure,” you whispered so lightly that Jungkook would have missed it if not for the quiet atmosphere.

“Why do you say that?” he replied, swallowing a lump in his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. Seeing you in distress made him emotional too, but right now, you needed him.

“I think I disappointed my parents again. I feel like no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to make them happy. They struggled a lot for me, so it makes me feel guilty when I can’t reach their expectations,” you confided in him. Ah, your parents again, Jungkook thought. He understood now why you were more upset than usual. Jungkook thought your parents were lovely, but they were stern with studies and job-related matters, often setting their expectations too high.

Jungkook thought long and hard before concluding. “I… don’t know how to put my thoughts into words,” he started. “However, I think it’s time you prioritize yourself for once,” he continued before pausing. His hand reached out and grabbed your cheek, making you look at him. For a moment, he was mesmerized by you. He brushed back your hair, taking in the sight of your pink ears and nose from the cold, your eyes holding back tears, and your lips bruised from biting them. He broke free from his trance when you tilted your head slightly, questioning his sudden pause.

“I think you should focus on healing yourself and building a healthy relationship with your parents because I know you care about them.” Jungkook finished. For a second, you were taken aback, but you understood his sincere intent. He was right, you thought. You couldn’t keep living in this repetitive cycle, and you couldn’t imagine how tiring it was for Jungkook. Realizing this made you incredibly happy to have someone so patient and loving by your side.

“And don’t forget that I will be by your side through it all. You aren’t alone. We can work on a healthy communication method with your parents. They do care, but they are just as terrible with emotions,” he giggled, making you blush and smack his arm.

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay… I will focus on myself. I want to heal too. Maybe starting with therapy?” you asked, looking at Jungkook.

“Oh yes! That is a wonderful idea! We must start from somewhere, right? I’m glad you’re willing to take the step” he said, beaming with joy. Watching him smile warmed your heart, reaffirming that you were making the right decision.

“I would love that,” you whispered back while laying your head on his chest. You stayed there for a while, basking in your lover's embrace, feeling a calmness wash over you. If you could, you would spend an eternity wrapped up in his warmth.

But alas the moment had to come to an end, as the night got colder, Jungkook decided it was best to return to either one of your apartments. He couldn’t risk you getting sick. You already looked spent emotionally and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel even worse the next day. He slowly and gently pulled your face from his chest and cradled your cheeks in his hands, the signs of your crying were still there in the form of your swollen eyes, but you seemed fine now having let your emotions out.

He leans forward and places the gentlest kiss on your lips, as if anything harder than that would break you and you reciprocate his actions. He pulls away but keeps his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “We should get home. It’s late and cold and I hate this weather. It makes my nose all stuffy” he says, and a giggle escapes your mouth at his cuteness.

Without saying anything you slide your hand into his giving him the green light to lead the way and as you walked back to Jungkook’s car, you knew that this night, under the chilly sky by the Han River, would be a turning point for the better for the better.

© strawberryjimin13 - all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[lxclerc]

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓 & 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

SUMMARY: you don’t realize what you have till you lose it, a lesson charles had to learn the hard way. REQUESTED: yes WARNING: angst, SMUT, 18+, threesome, oral (both m & f receiving), choking, p in v, unprotected sex, spitting, overtimulation, manhandling, praise kink, degragation, probably some dumbification somewhere in there PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 7.1k

NOTE: this took so long to finish but i’m just happy it’s done. please know that the only instruction i got from my friend who requested this was "angry charlos smut" after monza and that i probably won't be writing smut like this soon again so soon

part 1: moth to a flame

MASTERLIST

The scene before you now is a familiar one. It’s so awfully familiar that it makes your heart ache again. Staying up and waiting for a call from Charles after a night out isn’t out of ordinary for you but you thought you were both over this. Yet still, waking you up from your slumber was Charles, slurring over his words as he asked you to pick him up, far too drunk to drive and forcing you out of the comfort of your bed as you grabbed your keys. 

This time though, you aren’t alone. Carlos had flown over to you after you were unable to travel with the team, desperate to spend time with you before Silverstone. That meant that the last time you saw Carlos was three weeks ago and it's a surprise how much you missed each other terribly. You never talked about it but you both know it isn’t just sex. Carlos may play your body like a violin but he always touches you so gently. He looks after you, notices your small discomfort that he’s quick to amend. He holds you against his chest softly even when you’re not naked. 

In the three weeks you were unable to see him, the two of you spend most of your days exchanging texts, your nights with each other on facetime as you sleep and so given the first chance considering you won’t be able to go to him, Carlos offered to fly to you in Monaco and you hadn’t even thought twice before agreeing. Three days together after not seeing each other for three weeks feels far too short, but you’ve gotten greedy. You’d happily take whatever he offers. 

That being said, the two of you could be spending doing much more productive things than picking up your best friend from the club. Carlos had told you as much but you know you’re unable to completely abandon him. 

It was becoming clear to Carlos though. Despite everything, when Charles calls, you will always come running. Some part of him is willing to acknowledge he’s being unfair. You and Charles have been friends before either of you could talk. You spent nearly your entire life together. And you’ve always been good, always been kind and willing to help. Carlos should have known you wouldn’t just leave Charles to fend for himself.

However, he’s clouded with irrational jealousy at the moment, his hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his fist is turning white. Tension rise as you sat quietly in the passenger’s seat, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

You know his anger is justified. He’d be leaving tomorrow morning and you’d promised your night to him. Neither of you are sure when you’ll be able to see each other again. Even this meeting you knew took lots of effort on his part. He canceled so many meetings and appearances, prioritized spending time with you rather than his family and here you were, running back to the arms of a man who never truly valued you instead of spending time with him.

And it’s not like you needed to be the one to pick up Charles. You could have very well called one of his brothers but perhaps it was leftover feelings or perhaps it was the clear broken way in which he said your name. Either way, you’re unable to stomach the thought of passing him off to someone else without knowing if he's okay. The two of you had been through too much for you to do that. 

“I can get him myself,” you finally spoke up as Carlos parked in front of the famous Monte Carlo club. You don’t want to bother him more than you already have and he looked annoyed enough as it is. “You can just wait for me here.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow as he met your eyes, instantly causing red to tinge your cheeks. He looks furious but not even that can stop your body from reacting to him. He still looks beautiful even though he looks murderous. Stepping out of the car, he offered you his hand, entwining your fingers together. “Let’s go.”

Carlos may only be wearing a hoodie paired with Nike shorts looking like he just rolled out of bed but everyone still turns to him anyways, whether because they recognized him or simply because he still looks absolutely breathtaking despite the minimal effort in his appearance. Personally, you’re leaning more on the latter. 

It didn’t take long to find Charles, the monegasque hunched over a table as his hand gripped a glass of what you can only assume to be alcohol. His cheeks all the way to his neck and ears are red and you can’t help but run to him in worry, immediately attempting to support his body.

He squints at you and you can’t help but take notice of the bags under his eyes. No, this isn’t just some random drinking spree. Charles, more often than not, knows his limit well when it comes to alcohol. He only ever allows himself to get this drunk when he’s determined to force something down. “Y/N?” 

“Charles,” you breathe out as Carlos reaches the two of you, looking significantly more annoyed as you try to hoist your best friend over your shoulder. “On va te ramener chez toi.” Let’s get you home. 

Carlos removes his teammate’s weight off of you, placing an arm around his shoulder as the two of you all but drag him out of the club, aware of the many many eyes trained on the three of you. 

“Je veux rester avec toi,” Charles muttered, slurring over his own words. “Tu m'as manqué.” Want to stay with you…Missed you.

You turned to your spaniard companion, hoping he isn’t able to piece your conversation together, but Carlos is staring right ahead, making a point not to look at you as he jaw clenched, entire body stiff with unreleased tension. 

How many times will you run to Charles? How many times will you drop Carlos’ hand? How many times will you cancel plans? Would Carlos have to settle for this? Would he always come second best after his teammate? Second driver, second lover, second choice. Always coming second, alway too late. 

After the two of you buckle Charles in the backseat, you reach for him, placing your hand against his cheek as you all but force him to face you. He looks tired, probably as tired as you do but he still looks beautiful anyways. Carlos Sainz is ethereal. There’s simply no other way to describe him. From his perfectly arched brows to his tan skin, he’s all you’ve ever dreamed about. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice low and a little bit terrified and the sight of you trying to make yourself look smaller next to him all but breaks Carlos’ heart. 

You don’t seem to understand that with him, you’ll never have to make yourself small. With him, you’ll never have to try and take as little space as possible. You never have to lower your voice or speak gentler in fear of inconveniencing him. With him, you can be you; fully and unapologetically and he’ll still find you to be the most beautiful girl to exist. 

You are nothing short of perfect in Carlos’ eyes. Even if you’re breaking his heart. 

He grabs your hand on his cheek, entwining your fingers together as he plants a soft kiss on your knuckle. No words need to be said as he starts up the car and pulls out of the parking lot, his hold on your hand seemingly only getting tighter, terrified of the possibility that you might let go again. 

— 

Returning to your apartment, you let Carlos carry Charles inside, flopping him down on your uncomfortable couch. You kneel before your best friend, lightly removing his shoes and putting a pillow under his head. 

“Y/N,” Charles muttered, eyes fluttering. 

“Va dormir,” you tell him softly. Go to sleep.

Charles seemingly hummed something under his breath, a confirmation you thought as you stood up, more than ready to return to the comfort of your bed before Carlos’ flight in a few hours. 

“Y/N.” And yet just as you’re about to turn, Charles’ hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping your movement and forcing you to look back at him. He’s still as drunk as he had been but his eyes are open now, green eyes you used to adore staring back at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You freeze. Of course he’s called you beautiful before but not like he’s doing now, not with how he’s looking at you now. You can practically feel Carlos’ stare at the side of your head as you swallow the lump in your throat. “Go to sleep, Charles.”

But he’s still not letting go of your hand, only staring at you as though he’s seeing you again for the first time. He’s looking at you as if you’ve transformed into someone new, someone he doesn’t recognize, but someone that has him staring in awe. “I’m in love with you.”

You’d be able to hear a pin drop with the silence that enveloped the room but you’re only frozen in place, the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly ever since you could remember only seemingly breaking your heart. A part of you, the part of you from years ago, is desperate to say it back, to jump into his arms and let him make everything better. 

But the you now, the you that had touched Carlos, that let him touch you, the you that have laid with him from the other side of the world with your phone cameras on giggling the night away till your stomachs ache and your cheeks hurt from smiling, refuses to let you open your mouth. Charles may have been your past and for the longest time, you so desperately hoped he’d be your future but the truth remains that Carlos is your present and everything in you wishes he’d be more than that. 

And so you stood there, in between the two men, one holding your hand and the other holding your heart. 

But the silence is broken as Carlos pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning at, not even bothering to look at you as he went into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving you in shock. 

How you ended up in this situation, you aren’t too sure but you can only hope Charles is speaking nonsense in his drunken stupor. In the silence, Charles had laid back down, breathing already even as he slept so peacefully after having dropped your hand moments ago, not at all aware of the mess he’s created.  

You sigh, stepping away from Charles and going into your room to find Carlos folding up his clothes as he fixes his luggage. He looks as tired as you felt and you don’t hesitate walking behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you place your chin on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to leave yet,” you whisper against his shoulder, a slight tremor in your voice. 

But Carlos only steps away from your hold, continuing to shove his clothes back in his luggage in an attempt to collect his thoughts as you sit down at the edge of the bed wondering how what was an amazing three day break turned into this.

Eventually, Carlos faces you, lightly tugging on his hair in frustration as the sad look in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He's always been in control. In control of his life, of his car, of his emotions. But when he looks at you, he feels helpless. You hold so much power over him and you don't even realize it.

“You have to figure out what you want, Amor, because I want you. But do you want me or do you want him?”

The thought of how much he's willing to give and to do for you is almost frightening.

“Carlos–” 

But he cut you off as he walked over to you, holding your cheeks in his hands as he planted a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed his luggage and walked out. 

—

When the sun shined the morning after with Charles beginning to wake, you were already up, a cup of coffee warming your hands and dark bags under your eyes. There’s a glass of water and pain medicine waiting for Charles once he finally manages to get himself up. 

You’re wearing an oversized shirt that reaches your thigh, one that obviously doesn’t belong to you, a fact that Charles tried his best to ignore as he took his seat before you. “Bonjour. Je suis désolé pour la nuit dernière.” Good morning…I’m sorry for last night.

You only hummed in response, mind still racing. Without Carlos, you weren’t able to sleep at all, his last words echoing in your head along with Charles’. All you can think about is how the two of you had planned to check out a newly opened cafe down monte carlo today before his flight but now you’re left sulking in your kitchen with your hungover best friend. 

“Where’s Carlos?” Charles finally had the courage to ask, glancing at your bedroom door as if he’s expecting the Spaniard to appear out of nowhere. 

But your voice, a little strained and a lot tired, brings his attention back to the table. “He got an earlier flight.” 

“Oh,” was all Charles said. He has a nagging feeling his sudden intrusion is the cause of Carlos’ change of plans, one you’re obviously not happy about if the deep frown on your face is anything to go by. 

For a moment, the two of you remain in silence. For the first time in his life, Charles doesn’t know how to talk to you. Your sweet, easy smile that he adores isn’t present, replaced by a frown as you stare at your coffee as though you don’t even notice his presence. Despite being only having a few feet between you, you feel so far away.

Charles knows though. Unfortunately, he isn’t one of those people who conveniently forgets every stupid thing he does or say while drunk. He doesn’t get the luck of forgetting everything when morning comes. Instead, he actually has to live with the embarrassment and consequences of it all.

It’s not like drunken confessions are new for the two of you though. On your 19th birthday as Charles tucked you in bed, making sure to remove your makeup, you had drunkenly confessed just how in love you were with him. He stared at you in shock, movement stilling as he swallowed the lump in his throat before gently letting you know that he can’t offer you anything more than friendship while simultaneously breaking your heart. And after that, you convinced yourself you were content with it. You were content with being in his life, being the one by his side. It didn’t matter how much it hurt or how many nights you spent crying because at least you still have your place by his side. At least you still had him. 

When the two of you were 21 after a night out that quickly turned into Charles calling you up to pick him up, he had drunkenly curved himself around you as he made you promise to never leave him. He talked about the future you’ve always dreamt of, one with you walking down the aisle and him being the one waiting for you at the end of the altar. He told you he loved you as the two of you slept with your hands entwined, a new kind of hope that ignited in your chest up until he apologized the next morning, telling you it meant nothing and he had just been drunk. It was cruel but you stayed anyway.

You stayed because he needed you. He’s always needed you. He needed you through your childhood, he needed you through your teenage years, he needed you after Jules’ death, he needed you after his father’s death, he needed you after anthoine’s death and now, he needs you still after every bad race. Charles has always needed you but the problem was that he’s never wanted you enough. 

“About last night,” he starts, causing you to immediately look up at him, a kind of plea in your eyes. “Y/N, I-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice shaky. “Don’t say anything. If you don’t say anything, I can pretend it’s just another drunken mistake, one you never meant to make. Please don’t say anything.” 

“But I did mean it.” There’s a certain kind of desperateness in Charles’ voice as he says it as though he needed you to hear it. But god you’re so fucking tired of always prioritizing what Charles needs. “I’m in love with you. I think I always have been.” 

“Stop,” you tell him, a break in your voice as your eyes pooled with unshed tears but they aren’t sad tears. Instead, they’re angry tears as you look down at him. “It’s unfair, Charles. You’re being so unfair!” 

Charles’ head dropped to his hands. What a mess he’d made of things. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t know. You’ll never understand. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I have always put you first. I stuck through everything. I stayed even though it hurt so fucking much. I have been with you through every girl you liked better than you ever liked me. I waited and waited and fucking waited,” your voice is shaking with anger as the tears falls and Charles hates himself a little bit more with each passing second. “How dare you tell me you’re in love with me now? You are cruel and unfair.”

Charles wanted to cry too. He wanted to hold you. He wanted to go on his knees and apologize for being the world’s biggest idiot. Why did he only realize his feelings for you just as he lost you? There was nothing else to say.  “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

“You’re not in love with me, Charles,” you said, sounding so sure as if it’s a mere fact of the universe. “You’re not in love with me. You just hate that I’m not in love with you anymore.” 

—

Despite what the world thinks, Carlos Sainz is a wicked man. He’s territorial and possessive. His wants are primal and like any predator, Carlos will haunt and stalk, claim and mark. And there’s nothing he wants more than he wants you. 

And Charles Leclerc is a hindrance, a bump on the road. The moment you arrived on his doorstep, apologies in your eyes as you declare yourself as his, Carlos could barely keep his hands off you. The next race weekend, you had appeared in the paddock in a skimpy dress showing off the marks on your skin as Carlos sent Charles an arrogant smile. 

It was a little bit ridiculous, so much so that the team and fans alike are starting to take notice of the tension between the two Ferrari drivers. Whereas they were able to keep work and private matters separate before, they struggle now. Carlos is arrogant and Charles is bitter. Carlos, whose arms are always around you, whose lips are always on your skin, whose scent follows you like it’s engraved in your DNA, has seemingly done everything he can to show Charles that he’s won. It’s him you chose and Charles you left behind. 

Charles, for his part, hasn't been doing much to relieve the tension. He has no problem reminding Carlos it’s him you loved first, it’s him you spent every milestone with, it’s him with you in every childhood memory, that he is a part of you as much as Carlos is. 

Of course though, everything must come to an end and it all seems to boil over in Silverstone. The unbearable tension only seems to thicken as the race comes to a close with Carlos taking his first ever win and Charles getting nothing but P4. 

The moment he stepped down on the podium, Carlos was on you like a starved man. His hold on you is bruising, his kisses demanding and you absolutely loved it. 

“Carlos–” you start but he cuts you off by connecting your lips together, pushing you against the wall as one of his hands goes on your bare leg.

At that perfect moment, Charles stepped into the hallway, eyes immediately landing on the two of you. He looks disheveled, disappointment written all over his face, a deep contrast to Carlos’ arrogant smirk.

 He’s at the top of the world, so much so that he’s ready to put an end to his and Charles’ pissing contest over you and he knows exactly how to do it. “Why don’t you join in?” 

Both you and Charles turned to him in disbelief. Join in? The three of you? 

Carlos faces you, the same smirk on his face. “You don’t mind that, do you, angel? Why don’t we give Charles a show for being such an amazing teammate today?”

Your cheeks colored pink, the idea of four hands on you turning you on more than you’ll ever admit. Shyly, you shake your head.

But Charles is still frozen in place, the undeniable tightness in his pants becoming hard to ignore as you all but grind against Carlos race suit, looking so desperate and needy that he just wanted to fuck you there and there.

“What do you say, mate?” Carlos asks again, hand rising to cup your breast. “I’ll teach you all about making her cum.”

And that does the trick. His pride and ego refuses to let that one go, having taken enough beating today than any man would ever like. He can make you cum on his own, thank you very fucking much. 

That seems to put him into motion as the three of you enter Carlos’ drivers’ room, Charles’ lips eagerly going to your neck as Carlos claims your mouth. 

Carlos’ hands on you are firm and demanding, keeping your body pressed up against his despite Charles’ hands placing themselves on your waist, his chest hitting your back as he planted feathery kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. Charles’ touch is so soft, so hesitant as though he’s terrified you’d break if he pressed a little harder but Carlos’ is so demanding, so firm as though you’re his to touch and use. 

“Get on your knees, hermosa,” Carlos tells you, pulling at your lower lip before he finally let go of you, a smirk on his face. “Let’s show Charles what he’s been missing.”

Charles watched the way you stared up at him under your lashes, looking like the perfect picture of innocence if only you weren't moving to kneel in front of him, nimble fingers working to push his race suit down. 

He’s not too proud to admit that he’s dreamt about this for too long, wondering exactly how your hands and mouth would feel around him. And he’s definitely not too proud to admit that even way back in his teenage years before any of you truly understood what love meant, the exact sight of you right now were the ones to fill his fantasies at night. 

Charles hissed the moment your hand wrapped around his cock, making Carlos smirk at the simple reaction as he sat himself on the couch, watching the way your eyes are trained on him instead of the man who’s cock you’re holding. 

Even when giving a blowjob, your eyes will always follow Carlos.

“Go on, angel,” Carlos encourages, reaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear as your hand starts moving up and down. “Get him off.”

Charles can almost see the immediate change in you upon Carlos’ demand, your movements becoming more assured as he throws his head back, unknowingly reaching to tug at your hair. And when you put his tip against your tongue, he’s sure he’s in heaven, your warm lips wrapping around him as you bob your head up and down with Carlos reaching to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail. 

There’s a cheeky grin on Carlos’ face that infuriates Charles more than he’d like to admit – as though he doesn’t feel threatened at all despite the fact that you’re on your knees for him. 

“Going to ruin you, corazon,” Carlos muttered against your ear as he moved by you, planting a kiss on the sensitive skin below your ear. “You want that?” 

You’re quick to nod your head, the vibration causing Charles to hiss again as he couldn’t help the way he thrusted into your mouth, feeling his release coming as you take him as far as you could go, his tip hitting the back of your throat. 

With him hanging dangerously close to the edge, Charles pulled himself out of your mouth, groaning at the way you’re staring at him as though you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong. 

Carlos only laughs as he gently guides you so you’re leaning against his chest, not wasting any time in pulling your shirt off of you. “Come on, mate. I’ll even give you first taste.”

God, Charles hated how cocky Carlos sounded. He also hated how self assured the Spaniard is when it came to handling your body, not a single second of hesitation in his movements as his thumb started flicking at your nipples, making you throw your head against his shoulder. Carlos knows exactly how to touch you to make you want more, to get a reaction out of you and he has no problems reminding Charles of it. 

And Charles realized exactly what had spurred this on. Letting him have a taste of you didn’t come from the goodness of Carlos’ heart. Rather, it’s all part of his plan to show Charles exactly where he stands. 

Carlos isn’t threatened because Charles may get to have you today but Carlos gets to have you anytime and wherever he wants. 

And if Charles had any ounce of self respect, he would have turned around now and told his teammate to get lost but he’s never claimed to be smart and so he kneels before you, pushing your legs apart. 

“Can I take it off, ma belle?” He asked softly and Carlos nearly laughed again. 

Nonetheless, you nod your head and Charles doesn’t waste any time removing your pants. He lays on his stomach, nose ghosting over your clothed cunt which makes you let out a whimper. 

“Please,” you all but scream out as Charles blows air into your cunt, teasing you as much as he could. 

Carlos’ hand wraps itself around your neck, squeezing just enough to shut you up. “What did I say about whimpering, hermosa?” 

And Charles absolutely hated the way it’s so natural for you to heed Carlos’ orders. He hates how much control the Spaniard has over you and he hates Carlos for playing such a cruel and elaborate joke. 

Finally, Charles removed your underwear, chucking it somewhere behind him and the cold air hit your most sensitive area, causing you to erupt in shivers. His finger is slow when it comes to touching you, ghosting over your clit before it eventually pressed down, gathering your wetness and spreading all over your cunt

Your hands gripped at Charles' hair as his finger entered you, pumping in and out as his tongue circled your clit. 

“Fuck,” you breath out, eyes rolling at the back of your head. 

“What did I say about making noise?” Carlos taunts, his hand around your neck tightening for a fraction of a second. “Stupid already?”

You only grunt in response as Charles’ added another finger, scissoring them inside you in order to stretch your hole. 

Carlos brought his lips on yours and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as you eagerly kissed him back. Charles fingers and mouth are igniting your body but he’s moving too slowly, not giving you enough stimulation and friction to chase after. You’re so used to Carlos’ usual brutal pace, never truly giving you enough chance to breathe as he goes down on you that Charles’ careful movements aren't bringing you as close to the edge as you’d like. 

Carlos must have noticed the lack of your breathless panting because he’s smirking again before turning to Charles. “She likes it rough, mate.”

Charles looks annoyed, not having appreciated being guided or interrupted. “Fuck off.”

But nevertheless, Charles’ fingers quicken, so much so that you’re suddenly gripping Carlos’ thighs, nails digging on his skin as Charles hadn’t bothered warning you before he added a third finger in, pumping in and out of you at such a brutal pace that you instinctively attempt to close your legs only for Charles to pry them open as his thumb worked on your clit. 

The Monegasque is nibbling and sucking on the skin on your thigh, leaving marks and trailing kisses as if his fingers aren't abusing you. 

“Look so pretty like this, angel,” Charles tells you, eyes clouded with lust as he watches the way your body shakes, your walls clenching around his fingers and alerting him that you’re nearing your orgasm.

Carlos cooed at you. “I think she looks like a common whore. Letting us both touch you like this. You like this, baby? You like being shared?” 

You barely have enough sense to form coherent thoughts, much less to actually answer him but Carlos never did like being ignored, his fingers pinching at your nipple, the shot of pain bringing a little bit of your sense back as Charles’ fingers doesn’t stop assaulting your cunt, so stretched out that he’s slipping so easily right in. 

“Answer him like a good girl, baby,” Charles tells you, pretty green eyes staring straight at you.

God, their contrasting personalities might just be the death of you. “Y-yeah. Fucking love it.” 

“Watch your mouth,” Carlos warned lightly but his mouth was on you again before you could even process what he said, swallowing down your moan as you finally let go of the knot that had been forming in your stomach, your cum spilling out of you and into Charles’ hand. 

Your body sags against Carlos’ chest as Charles gently pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean. His eyes shut as the taste of you spread on his tongue, so dirty and sweet and everything he’s ever imagined. 

But before you could even try and recover, Carlos is already effortlessly removing you away from him, placing you on the cold floor as he situates himself between your spread legs. “One more.”

“No,” you try to protest, much too sensitive to take another one so soon but Carlos seems to find your protest funny as he lets out a chuckle, not bothering to give you a warning before his tongue is diving deep into you. 

“We both know you can take more, niña bonita.” 

The reminder that the two of you have done this many times before wasn’t what Charles needed as Carlos licked a stripe between your folds.

“Oh my god,” you breath out, breathless as your hand flies to his hair. 

Charles' hand reached towards you, cupping your jaw as he all but forced you to face him before meeting your lips, his hand going to your right breast and squeezing a little. But Carlos refuses to give you a second to breathe as he nibbles at your most sensitive bud, catching you completely off guard as an unusual loud moan escapes your lips. “Carlos.”

Carlos is smirking against your clit, his tongue coming in and out of you before lightly sucking on your clit and licking a stripe between your folds. It’s a cruel pattern, one that he’s already perfected as he tugs at your legs, pulling you closer towards him. 

“So messy,” Carlos muttered against your cunt, the vibrations from his words causing you another shiver. 

But you only whimpered in response as Charles’ hand wrapped around himself, slowly pumping as he listened to your soft moans. 

You were already shamelessly close. It’s never been hard for Carlos to bring you to your orgasm after all and nothing is processing in your brain apart from the overwhelming pleasure his mouth is giving you, knowing exactly what spots to hit and which movements to do in order to have you moaning out. 

“I’m coming,” you muttered, only having half a mind as you’re all but lost in the pleasure, your vision blurry from unshed tears. 

Carlos’ tongue sped up as his finger entered you, curling for perfectly inside you in order to reach your most pleasurable spot as your body involuntarily arches. You practically squealed as your orgasm approached you, making a mess all over Carlos’ chin. 

“God,” you muttered, trying to find the strength to lift your head in order to look at him as your breaths came in pants, your legs shaking and having turned into pure jelly.

But Carlos is smirking at you, that mischievous glint in his eyes ever present. “I’m not done, cariño.”

He said it so simply and in your dazed out state, you hadn’t even gotten the chance to process his words before his mouth is back on you again, causing you to instinctively try and crawl away from him but Carlos hold on you remains, arms wrapping around your legs as he pulls you back at him. 

You flinch when Carlos’ tongue returns on you and Charles’ hand pumping his cock quickens as strangled moans and grunts escape your lips. The sight of you like this, looking so fucked drunk despite not having been fucked yet, is one he wants to engraved in his mind. You’re gripping air as Carlos' assault on your cunt returns, so sensitive from your two previous orgasm that you’re nothing but dead weight, having lost all your energy as his tongue sucks and licks. 

“I can’t,” you moaned, hips attempting to push you up again but Carlos’ arms pushes you back down, his eyes closed and his facial hair covered in your cum as he eats you out. 

Charles throws his head back, his own orgasm coming just in time with your third as his hands quickens, thumb rubbing his tip till both your moans fill the small drivers’ room. As he sprays his cum all over your chest, Carlos guides you to your third orgasm with barely any effort. His tongue only needs to flick at your clit a few times to have you spasming again. 

Both you and Charles are panting as you ride out your orgasms. 

Carlos seems to pity you, giving you a few moments to catch your breath as he crawls over you, his eyes meeting Charles’ as he lightly taps on your chin, your lips automatically opening as he spits into it, tasting your own arousal mixed with Carlos’ usual minty taste. 

If you weren’t so tired, you would have noticed the intense eye contact the two drivers were sharing, one with a smirk on his face and the other rolling his eyes. Carlos’ action was clear, a reminder; Charles is only touching you now because Carlos is letting him.

“You think you have one more in you, baby?” Carlos asked, pushing some of your hair back as you shake your head. “We should let Charles have a chance at ruining that cunt, don’t you think? Considering this is his only chance.” 

You nod, so easily agreeing to Carlos’ words. Charles thought that Carlos could ask you to jump off a cliff and you’d probably ask the best way to come tumbling down. The thought causes an ache in his chest. 

Still, Carlos is not cruel. Yes, he likes control and yes, he often pushes you to your limit whenever it comes to sex but he does genuinely care for you. It’s obvious in the way he grabbed a water bottle, tapping at your chin again for you to open up before gently tipping the contents of the bottle over, wiping the droplets of water that fell to your chin with his thumb. When you aren’t fucking each other like catholic rabbits, Carlos’ hold on you is always gentle, always careful as though he’s terrified of dropping you. 

Maybe Charles was still holding out hope that what the two of you had was only sex. Maybe he wished Carlos didn’t care for you so he can find some way to steal you back but watching the two of you now, it’s obvious to Charles that he couldn’t be more wrong. This is more than sex, more than any physical relationship. 

It was a slap to the face that he truly had lost you. 

“Why don’t you give Charles a show and ride him?” Carlos suggested after you’ve rested enough to be able to hold your head up again. 

You nod again, already crawling over to Charles. It’s a miracle you even have the energy to do so as you straddle him, your childhood best friend’s hands immediately placing on your hips as he guides you. It’s easy to sink into him, his cock easily sliding into you due to the amount of cum still covering your folds. 

Your forehead falls to his shoulder, feeling so filled up and tired as you let yourself adjust to his size. It feels entirely different from Carlos’ but you realize you don’t mind. Charles is breathing heavily, his lips trailing kisses on your neck. 

There’s a deep contrast between how Charles and Carlos fucks. Carlos likes being in control, always demanding and mocking. You love it though. You love the way he plays your body as though he’d studied it. You love that he knows exactly where to touch and nibble to have you whimpering. You love the cocky way he tells you to keep quiet. You love how entirely natural it is to give yourself up to him. 

Charles on the other hand, is much softer. He lets you move yourself, giving you time to breath and adjust, enough to make you think you have some sort of control. The firm hands on your hips tells you that you have no control here though. It’s all an illusion. 

Eventually, Charles starts guiding you up and down his length, the friction making you moan out as he grazes your clit.

Carlos is sitting before the two of you, watching intently in the way Charles’ cock disappears in your cunt, arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread, showing off his obvious hard on. There isn’t an ounce of jealousy in his eyes though, instead they’re lust filled as they watched the way your body moved, the way your skin glistened with sweat. He doesn’t even bother to tell you off for making so much noise. 

Carlos is not insecure. He never has been. He knows what he can do, he knows how he looks and he definitely knows how to please a woman. There’s never been any reason for him to be insecure of anyone and Charles is no different. At the end of the day, it’s his bed you fall into every night, him who gets to hold you, him who gets to fuck you whenever he wants. He’s already won and he knows there’s no reason for jealousy, not when you’re looking at him like that as another man fucks you as if you wished it’s him instead. 

Charles knows you’re spent and so he does all the work, effortlessly lifting you up and down his cock as he throws his head back. You’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow but at the moment, nothing matters more than your fourth orgasm of the night. 

“Fuck,” you moaned when he hits that part of you, your nails digging into his back. There would be scratches tomorrow but Charles couldn’t care less.

“You’re doing so good, mon ange,” Charles mutters against your skin, his movements becoming erratic as he meets you halfway, thrusting up in order to go deeper. “So fucking beautiful like this. Looking like the perfect little slut.”

And god, the degradation went straight to your core, making you moan out as you can feel your orgasm coming to you, your tight walls squeezing him that Charles had to bite on your shoulder in order to muffle his noise. 

In front of you, Carlos is still watching, face emotionless apart from the smirk painting his lips. “She’s amazing, isn’t she, mate? You should see when she’s on her knees. Fucking heaven. Try to make her squirt.”

The reminder that Charles is only borrowing you for the day isn’t appreciated as the monegasque let out a grunt, one of his hands leaving your hip and going between the two of you where your bodies meet. His thumb is immediately on your clit, flicking and rubbing in circles as he chases your orgasm. 

His movement is getting sloppy, more desperate as he thrusts into you, hitting parts of you that had you screaming out as you tug on his hair. 

It feels like an explosion when your orgasm finally came, squirting all over Charles and the floor as your body falls against his in exhaustion, your cheeks red from the mess you made but far too tired to truly be embarrassed. 

“Fuck,” Charles mutters, breathing as heavily as you as he holds you against him, holding your shaking form against him as the two of you catch your breath. 

“Bravo, Charlie!” There’s mocking in Carlos’ voice as he says it along with amusement, his dick nearly painfully hard. You'll barely notice from his face though, looking so incredibly put together and in control that you wouldn’t have thought he just gave you two orgasms in a matter of seconds a few minutes ago.

You feel as though you could faint from how exhausted you are, your body so completely spent that you can barely feel your limbs attached to you. But still, you force yourself out of Charles’ hold and crawled into Carlos’ arms, releasing a sigh of relief as the Spaniard wrapped himself around you, your naked body pressed against him and your head buried at the crook of his neck.

Carlos smiles at you, planting the usual gentle kiss on your temple as he removes the hair clinging to your sticky, sweaty skin. “You did amazing, amor.” 

You only hummed in response, trying to get comfortable as his scent warfed around you, immediately relaxing your muscles. 

And all the while, Charles watched as he realized that he truly had lost you. 

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @lightsoutletsgo @aaleksmorozova @j-onathan-carnahan @xheera @desperate-and-broken @dreams-and-cookies @noeesd19 @vergilsthighs @verstappens-hat @squidwardsluverxx @incalescentheart @eve-eh @chrryleos @givemeasainz @idkiwantchocolatee @xgallysonegoodlung @ihearttheoriginals

[yoursweetwife]

omg… ur dr ratio idea… i’m eating up that angst,,

just thinking about how it’ll cause a rift in their relationship. he feels so inferior to his lover. to watch someone else (who might not even be trying to pursue knowledge) gain acknowledgment from nous, when all of his life he’s been vying for a place in the genius society, makes him feel so conflicted.

he loves them dearly, but he can’t help what he’s feeling. it’s soul-crushing, and he can no longer look at them the same way. their words of comfort are lost on him when he knows that they’ve got potential to join the genius society.

ooh but what could impact him even more is the fact that his lover refuses. they don’t want to take a part in the genius society. 2 ways:

rejecting because they really aren’t bothered about the pursuit of knowledge, nor are they bothered about nous’ acknowledgment. this infuriates ratio further — they had a chance to meet nous, ask a question, be part of the elites — and yet they refused? he’s baffled, irritated and just heavily conflicted on how to feel about you.

rejecting because they feel it’s unfair to ratio, but perhaps to make a point? they explain to ratio that value in oneself doesn’t need to proved to another, that his knowledge is very much enough and maybe comfort him — show that his achievements have merit, tell him that they don’t care about anyone else’s acknowledgement but his. very fluffy. he can react in either way — touched that his lover would refuse something so great, just for him, or be infuriated and baffled like the idea above.

maybe an argument ensues. and again, that argument could end in two ways, depending if you want it to be angsty or not hehe— dr. ratio is angry at first, but melts into your arms, so surprisingly vulnerable as he tells you of his sorrows and insecurities of not being able to join the society. OR it’s a REALLY big argument… and angst ensues….

anyway yeah, good idea. great idea. i love angst so much.

Yeees Ratio will have mixed emotions after this incident. What do you mean they don't want to join the genius society? This is a unique opportunity that only an idiot would refuse. It seems to me that he really believed then that the genius Society was something wonderful that only the best deserved.

The moment Ratio learns of [name]'s decision to refuse the invitation, he becomes even more disappointed. Even words of love will not calm him down. And because of the accumulated disappointment, he will flare up and a quarrel will begin, several offensive words will fly towards his lover, and before he realizes what he said, [name] leaves him alone. This will increase the distance between them. But Veritas will remain a stubborn jerk who will never be the first to apologize. In the end, everything could turn into a breakup, because [name] will no longer be able to tolerate Ratio’s behavior, which at that moment resembled an offended child.

Or things could end more smoothly. Ratio decides to give in to his feelings, he sees that [name] sincerely loves him, an understanding comes to him, biggest loss for him is not the rejection of the genius society and not how Nous ignores him, but his beloved, who always supported and inspired him. And when Ratio hears that [name] refused his invitation, he will not be able to contain his emotions, leading to a touching moment between the two of them. However, he will be left with a little disappointment and self-doubt, but at least the [name] is there to help him deal with it.

It's quite difficult to choose between these two options, I love angst and fluff omg

[morphean42]

Rewatching Falsettos I was suddenly struck by an epiphany that I’m sure someone else has had at some point, but I needed to write out. This ending scene from “March of the Falsettos” jumped out at me from the first watching, but even though I recognised the nod to the “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil (and lesser known do no evil)”, I didn’t know what it meant. Today, I tried to piece it together, and I think I’ve gotten it. These poses represent core attributes of the characters, as well as Trina’s view of them, so click the read more to hear the ravings of a mad man wayyyyyy too obsessed with this show

The idea of ‘evil’ to me is very loose. It can represent a lot of things for these characters; their actions towards each other, their character flaws, etc. But, for this analysis, one can replace ‘evil’ with ‘truth’. Each of the characters refuses to see, speak, hear, or ‘do’ the truth (please excuse the lack of grammar for that last one), and that is where the ‘evil’ stems from. Taking into account this is mostly based on Trina’s view of the men, I think ‘truth’ fits in well.

Let’s start with the one who fits in least— Jason. “March of the Falsettos” is a physical manifestation of how Trina views the men in her life (as childish and immature), but some slack is given to her son. He doesn’t sing his lines in falsetto, because we acknowledge he is in fact a child, and has more of an excuse to act as such. So, take his analysis with a grain of salt. The boy has every right to be a little selfish— he’s 10.

So, Jason has his hands over his eyes, representing ‘See No Evil’. This is a direct nod to his character flaw; his view of the world with him at the center. Although his parents are less than good to him, he still sees them through unfair lenses— ‘My mother’s no wife/My father’s no man’. He sings ‘everybody’s yelling and everybody’s ruining it’ in “Everyone Hates His Parents” because he is unhappy with how his Bar Mitzvah is turning out and wants to simply cancel it. He doesn’t have a concept of doing things for other people (again, he’s a child, I’m not blaming him per se), so he is blind to the will of others and refuses to see their side. In addition to this, even when Mendel tells him Whizzer will most likely die, Jason pleads with G-d to save him. He still views himself as the center of his world, thus Mendel’s line ‘Life’s not all about him’.

In addition to this, his ‘See No Evil’ means something when thought about from Trina’s perspective. She thinks her son is blind to the truth of the world, this son who stays inside playing chess alone, this son who ‘seems like an idiot to [Trina]’. She worries Jason will turn out like these other men in her world, blind to everyone but himself.

Now we come to Mendel, who has his hand over his mouth in ‘Speak No Evil’. Mendel’s flaw throughout the show is his refusal to accept the truth of any situation. He tells Jason to ‘feel alright for the rest of your life’ instead of actually trying to help, he is ‘frightened of questions’, he repeats over and over ‘I’ll make you well’ to Whizzer in the hospital. He will never say anything negative, nor will he allow others to do so. Even in the end of the show, he tells Jason they don’t know ‘when or if’ Whizzer will get better— he is still not accepting that it’s a definite thing. He believes that if he and those around him just don’t speak about the real problems, they’ll go away.

Trina’s view on Mendel is complicated here. In the next song she agrees to marry him, of course, and we know she at least likes him (the most of all three adults she knows). She says that Mendel ‘decides the role to assume’. She looks down on the fact that he can’t speak the truth to her, that he’s expecting this happy wife, this perfect new family. He wants her to play along with him and make their home together, even if she sings ‘liking our lives’ instead of loving. Even if he’s better than Marvin ever was, there’s still an element of control here. Mendel wants this family, and he wants them to all pretend nothing is ever wrong again.

Marvin, our titular character, is in the ‘Hear No Evil’ position. This one is fairly straight forward— he wants control and will never listen to the needs of those around him. He can’t hear what they actually need, he simply does what he wants. He also struggles with his masculinity throughout Act 1, his outward misogyny and need for the nuclear family (his treatment of Trina and Whizzer), so he imagines himself at the top of his family system. He will never take any other opinions, or counsel, in his decisions, seeing that as weakness. He’s similar to Jason in this regard, as he only hears what he wants to (like Jason only sees what he wants). He ignores the pain around him to pursue his own desires, he covers his ears and moves on.

Trina, of course, despises Marvin at this point in the show. Her subconscious showing Marvin in ‘Hear No Evil’ can tell us a lot about their relationship, how she was never seen as equal in decisions. Marvin always put her to the side, not listening to her needs, acting without thinking of her.

Whizzer is complicated. I’ve seen people laugh at his pose before, saying we’ve got ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, and Gay’, but I think he represents the ‘Do No Evil’. This final character is not often seen with the other three, and can be depicted with arms over the chest or covering the genitals. It wouldn’t make sense to have Whizzer be the outlier (especially because the fourth depiction of evil does exist), so I’m assuming he is supposed to be ‘Do No Evil’.

This fits in well with Whizzer’s flaws throughout the show. He doesn’t accept responsibility for his relationship with Marvin; seen in the lines ‘I’m not responsible’ during “Late For Dinner” or ‘I will not accept blame’ in “Games I Play”. He sleeps around, despite Marvin wanting monogamy, and clearly did not have an issue hooking up with a married man. Whizzer fundamentally doesn’t think his actions have consequences, he believes he has done nothing wrong (he has done no evil). Whizzer also has a hard time admitting to his love for Marvin. He says it ‘depends on the day’, he flat out says ‘no’ when asked if he loves him. He doesn’t want to show his love for fear of being too vulnerable, so he hides and doesn’t do anything about it.

To take this even further, him being ‘Do No Evil’ can represent his later question of ‘why me of all men’ when he is dying. He hasn’t done anything to deserve his death, and ‘all men get what they deserve’, right?

Moving on to how Trina sees Whizzer. He’s come into her life and ruined her marriage, though she ‘wants to hate him’ she can’t. She views him as the cause of her recent hardships, his actions being to blame. He is ‘Do No Evil’ to her because he has done evil in taking Marvin away (though it is obvious Trina is better off because of it). He has upset the careful balance of her world by breaking down the lies of her marriage and exposing the truth— Marvin never loved her, could never love her. She puts him in ‘Do No Evil’ because what he has done is what the rest of the men won’t— see, hear, speak the truth even at the detriment of her family.

Another way to view this is, of course, the fact that ‘Do No Evil’ is rarely seen with the others. Trina is separating Whizzer from the other men, not putting him in the same category as the rest of the ‘family’. He views himself as an outsider as well, yes he’s part of the group, but only as a technicality. Only as Marvin’s lover. Once he leaves Marvin, he is easily taken out of the equation and the remaining three do not feel the loss.

My conclusion is such: Each of the poses our men do represents the character flaw they must overcome throughout the show, as well as how Trina views them in her mind. I really hope this made any sort of sense, and if someone has already said all of this well… I guess it can’t hurt to be thorough.

I’m way too tired to read through this again so if there are spelling mistakes please print out this post, correct it in red pen, and send it to me by carrier pigeon.

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[maidstew]

lily, please elaborate on your clemmie and lyssie post 😔🙏🏽

i know i did this to myself but i’m actually nervous to write this out because i don’t think anyone is going to agree with me but here i go!

before i start- i do want to clarify that i love both characters and this is in no way me hating on clemmie or implying that lysistrata is perfect! clemmie is miles ahead in terms of being caring versus her peers.

however, i do not see clemensia as a truly good, kind person. (again, this is all my personal interpretation and i could be way off!)

a few things stick out to me about clemensia that make me feel this way (pre-snake bite, obviously! def unfair to hold post snake-bite against her).

the first example is when they are discussing how to force people to watch the games.

clemensia says-

“The real problem is, it’s sickening to watch”

lysistrata says-

“Most of us don’t want to watch other people suffer.”

to me, i see this as lysistrata acknowledging and putting focus on the children suffering- where clemmie focuses mainly on how it makes her feel to watch.

clemensia also talks about her first meeting with reaper-

“Mine wouldn’t speak. Not a word”

not horrible by any means- but it still feels lacking in empathy (and not great that she referred to reaper as ‘hers’).

another example that comes to mind is when clemmie and coriolanus are discussing the games after arachne death and she says this-

“Yes, or make them Avoxes, or something,” said Clemensia. “It’s awful, but not as bad as the arena. I mean, I’d rather be alive without a tongue than dead, wouldn’t you?”

this isn’t a bad thing necessarily! but to me, i see it as misguided and failing to actually put herself in the shoes of these children and sort of failing to have genuine empathy.

another example is regarding iphigenia-

“Clemensia had once told Coriolanus it was the only revenge she could take on her father, but refused to give any more details.”

again, miles ahead of most of her peers because she refused to elaborate further but i believe that exposing that to coriolanus at all was a deeply unkind thing to do.

and then here are some examples where i see lysistrata displaying kindness (though i’m aware that it may be unfair to bring up things lysistrata did during the games bc clem didn’t get the same chance to bond with reaper!)

she makes the effort to help jessup even before he protects her in the bombing-

she’d apparently been working hard to connect with Jessup “I brought you some cream for your neck,”

she is grateful to jessup after he protects her instead of just assuming that her life is worth more. she’s also willing to speak out and tell everyone this despite knowing how people view district citizens.

“She’s going around saying that big, ugly boy from District Twelve protected her by throwing his body over her, but who knows? The Vickers family loves the spotlight.”

it’s also worth noting that coriolanus follows this up by saying he’s never seen a vickers trying to claim the spotlight.

she also says this-

“And who wouldn’t rather be the victor than the defeated?”

“I don’t know that I have much interest in being either,” said Lysistrata.”

which i think is very decent considering she lived through the war just as much as her classmates.

she displays empathy and understanding for dill & reaper when her classmates do not-

“Isn’t he the one who promised to kill all the others?” asked Pup.

“Doesn’t look so tough to me,” said Urban.”

“She’s his district partner,” said Lysistrata. “And she’s almost dead now. Tuberculosis, probably.”

she’s also quick to call out her classmates during the games-

“Like musical chairs,” said Domitia with a pleased look.

“But with people dying,” said Lysistrata.”

when jessup has rabies and is chasing lucy gray-

“If Jessup can’t win, I want Lucy Gray to. That’s what he’d want. And she can’t win if he kills her,” she said. “Which might happen anyway.”

to me, this shows that she has been able to empathize and understand who jessup is as a person.

also while other classmates display anger or frustration at losing the prize she says this-

“Coriolanus could barely hear Lysistrata whisper, “Oh, don’t let him die alone.”

because she cares about jessup. she also sends food to lucy gray directly after that.

and of course there’s this interaction which i think speaks for itself-

“I do.” She took a deep breath. “What I’d like people to know about Jessup is that he was a good person. He threw his body over mine to protect me when the bombs started going off in the arena. It wasn’t even conscious. He did it reflexively. That’s who he was at heart. A protector. I don’t think he would’ve ever won the Games, because he’d have died trying to protect Lucy Gray.”

“Oh, like a dog or something.” Lepidus nodded. “A really good one.”

“No, not like a dog. Like a human being,” said Lysistrata.”

but the fact that she firmly and openly asserted his humanity in front of the entire capitol essentially is massive to me.

and of course there’s the fact that she had been nice to sejanus-

“Snow had invited Festus and Lysistrata to join the party, as they’d liked Sejanus better than most of his classmates and could be counted on to say nice things.”

of course this is all rambling that doesn’t actually answer the question but i feel like it was important to try to explain why i saw them as slightly different.

essentially i think my thoughts on kind vs nice can be summed up by this quote-

Niceness, then, is often expressed through words or gestures, while kindness is often expressed through acts.

and lysistrata proved repeatedly that she is willing to act by speaking up consistently despite how taboo it is in the capitol. whereas i don’t view clemensia as someone who would be as willing to directly assert a district citizens humanity so publicly (again, my own personal interpretation.).

because of this- i believe lysistrata is a lot more likely to get herself in trouble quicker by opening her mouth and sticking up for the district citizens, especially after this experience. whereas i do not think clemensia would be as likely to risk her safety to do so.

[dropout-if]

Unique - for all the ros, please. i know you did something similar in your 'pick this route if you like xyz'. but in an instory pov, what are unique or individual to them things that they do that makes them stand out [or just are subtle and soft] as a partner?

AAA I was very excited for this one!

U = Unique(What makes them unique as a s/o?)

Jean/Jade is very meticulous. They're a perfectionist, and this translates into their relationships. When J dates someone they're very self-sacrificing in every way, shape and form. This stems from the fact that J is pretty stupid around their feelings lol (everything is rational and everything makes sense, but romance most certainly doesn't).

Uma’s uniqueness might as well be how detail-oriented they are. They also have a great memory (they're going to remember everything about their s/o, the good and the bad). Gift-giving might not be that high up as Uma's love language, but they do love to make sure their partner is appreciated (and to let them know that Uma's been thinking about them). They also give the best gifts🫂💕

For our n.2 self-sacrificing fool, Statler I’m going to choose both their resilience and their self-awareness. Statler is far from being perfect, but they've grown so much as a person since they were a teen. The amount of responsibility Statler carries and how much they love the people around them (taking care of them, being dependable for their sake). It comes with tons of stress (and Statler not being able to fully live their own life), but it's still admirable in a way.

Wanda stands out because of her emotional maturity alone lol (it's something very normal and very valid to ask in a partner, but she's the most emotionally stable out of all the ROs and that deserves to be acknowledged). Wanda rarely gets jealous, she's emotionally expressive, she's not demanding of her partner's time, she's supportive. Where can I find someone like her🧍

Lol Kai is such a mess they're a bit hard to define without spoiling anything. The way they've grown and the way they've viewed the world up to this point has been very unfair, and Kai genuinely doesn't know the first thing about having a healthy relationship. For Kai's unique feature, I'd choose their role in MC's life. They're the RO in whose route MC feels the most free/liberated.

Travis is also unsurprisingly hard to pinpoint. I think his bluntness makes him stand out. Travis' partner will never have to doubt him or his feelings, he's always going to be straightforward with what he believes and thinks. It might not be such a good thing all the time, but it is commendable when all the other ROs lie more often than not (due to various reasons ckskxk).

[gothra]

I’m so tired of all of the stupid, bad-faith defenses of corsetry, honestly. “It’s like wearing a bra! Corsets were the bras of their time!” They were underwear, but they weren’t the “bras” of their time, because bras are the bras of their time and corsets wrap around your entire torso. And bras TODAY are uncomfortable and they only go on the top half, so how much fun do you think wearing a bra for your stomach and breasts were? Women today are taking off their uncomfortable bras in protest, I imagine that the anti-corset women of the time were probably onto something and not just being weird about it. “Women were able to work comfortably in them for hours!” Okay, I’m sure there were plenty of women who felt more comfortable wearing stomach binding fabric than speaking up about the misogynistic standards of appearance and losing friends or their job. And how do you KNOW they were comfortable? Because they didn’t complain? You’re saying that, because they didn’t do the thing that women are notoriously afraid of doing in an age where the standards for the things that women should say and do were harsher, that means that “most” of them actually liked it? Could it be possible that most of them didn’t want to make trouble? Could it be possible that they simply forced themselves to adapt, much like women do today? There are women who work in stilettos for 8-10 hours a day, gritting their teeth through the pain and pretending it doesn’t hurt, or writing it off as no big deal. Are we going to wave it all away as not really an issue because ‘her shoes were just too tight!’ Or are we going to acknowledge the fact that, like corsets, some things are inherently not designed for comfort and that comfort is a privilege when it comes to these things? Are we going to ignore the fact that there is an issue at the very heart of the design of the product? How could it POSSIBLY be comfortable to have a stiff garment wrapping around your stomach and chest and ribs that you have to wear under layers and layers of clothing? How could it POSSIBLY be comfortable for a woman to walk around all day in a pair of shoes that shorten her calves and numb her toes? If a garment restricts even ONE important facet of a woman’s life (eating, drinking, running, BREATHING DEEPLY, laying down, etc.) then it’s not sustainable as a source of comfort. “All of the fainting and stuff, that’s just from lacing it too tight!” First of all, ignoring the implications of defending a garment that could possibly injure or kill someone if misused, just because the instances where women were mutilating their bodies by wearing their clothes too tight were few, doesn’t mean that suddenly it’s fine to overwrite the other, smaller discomforts. Saying “well, they didn’t always kill people” is a shit defense that begs the question: “why were people designing clothes that even could?”

I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to just admit that some stuff of certain eras SUCKED and were bad for women? Why are the women who point out the subjugation of women shunned and called close-minded? Furthermore, do you not trust the words of the women who LIVED in those eras and spoke up against those practices? Why not? Because they were in the minority in an era when being openly disobedient to the social norms resulted in severe backlash? Of course the anti-corset resistance was small, these were a chosen few women who weren’t afraid of the consequences of resistance! Of course every other woman was smiling and working through their suffering. Do you think the ones who weren’t were all crazy crybabies? You trust the words of the women who say what YOU want them to say to defend you so you don’t have to face being misguided or even flat-out wrong! I’m so tired of the idea that pretending that women weren’t victims somehow equals them having actually been more free than we thought.

Saying “women have had to live under unfair and oppressive standards that have severely impacted their health and personhood all throughout history” is not the same as saying “women are weak because they allowed themselves to be subjected to oppression!” You people wonder why feminism doesn’t have teeth or claws, it’s because you disarm and nullify it a bit more every time you uncritically agree with Bernadette Banner. Women shouldn’t even have to wear JEANS THAT ARE TOO FUCKING TIGHT!!!!!

[igotanidea]

Castle of glass: Frank Castle x fem!reader

my fav @somest1 was in need of hurt/comfort with Punisher so how could I refuse? :D :D

A/N: My first Frank fanfiction so pls, be understanding since he may be a bit ooc.

Summary: Secrets and understatements are relationship killers. And Frank is walking on thin ice with it. In his case, this may be the reason of someone getting phisically hurt.

***

„Frank.”

The only answer was his back turned to her and silent hum, barely audible, almost like a sign he acknowledged her presence, not able to ignore it, but didn’t wish to talk.

“Frank.” She tried again, this time her voice stronger, more confident, yet not enough to make him speak. “Damn it, Castle, answer me, what the hell happened!?

“Nothing you should be worrying about.” He muttered not changing position to face her and his behavior finally made her loose it.

“Nothing…? Nothing I should be worrying about?! Do you even hear yourself, Frank? Your face is all over the news! People are after you!”

“It’s nothing” he insisted

“God damn it, why are you so stubborn?” she circled the room and sat on the carpet in front of him in an attempt to catch his attention, but of course, since he was the Punisher, intimidating, tough and unwavering he did not give up. At least for the first five minutes. “Frank.” She spoke again silently reaching for his hand making him raise head and focus eyes on her face “Come on, tell me. What did you do?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked with that hoarse, a bit shaking voice.

“Frank…..” Y/N eyes looks so pleading, almost begging him to stop playing whatever game this was

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. But…..”

“Then I need you to keep doing that.” He grabbed her hand tighter “Whatever you hear or see I need you to believe me. Do you understand? They will try to play with your mind, break us apart, set you against me. “

“Who….?” Her voice shook a bit “Frank, you are scaring me now….”

“I’m sorry, honey. But I can’t say anything more. It will put you in more danger than…..”

“So I am in danger?”

“I will protect you.” he assured

“Mhm. I’m sure. But who will protect you?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Right. You’ve got enough prove of that on your face and all over your body. Why are you still doing this?”

“I need to set some things straight.”

“I don’t understand a single thing from what you are saying to me.” She stood up abruptly and once again started circling the room in nerves, not able to sit still and look at him, still unfazed. He was so withdrawn and persistent. Always feeling like he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulder. Torn between not wanting to drag anyone into his mess and yet, ending up making people that cared about him with mixed emotions – stress, fear, anger, pain…..

“I need you to …..”

“Trust you, you said it!” she spat “And I already told you I do! But you are making it nearly impossible for me. I never asked you to change, all right! All I needed from you was honesty.” She sighed deeply, frustrated and feeling betrayed. “Why won’t you keep me in the dark, Frank? Still. We’ve been together for a while now and….”

“And look where it got you!” he raised and took a step towards her, his clenched fists and narrowed eyes making her stumble back. “Look how your life looks like right now! No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try you are still scared!”

“I……”

“What, huh? What?!” he yelled at her not realizing how his emotions were controlling him now

“This is so unfair, Frank.” She sobbed “you are being unfair. And wrong. I am not scared about my life. I am scared about you. I know your past, I know what you did, all that violence and hardheadedness. And I know that other part you are trying to cover up for so much. I know that you care, I know that you are not a monster people portray you like. But it’s so fucking hard to have to discover it all by myself, because you won’t tell me a single thing!”

“I can’t!”

“Of course you can’t! Of course you can’t tell my why you are accused of a shooting in the Hell’s kitchen! I’m sure you can’t explain to me why your former lawyers and my closest friends are calling me asking what the fuck you are doing.”

“Murdock?”

“Yes, Matt and Foggy. Oh, and Karen. She is fairly disappointed in you, let me let you. Not that is bothers you, of course. You are that one person who are stuck so much in your own ways you can’t change them! You’d rather burn than speak!”

“Y/N…..”

“I trust you Frank, I really do. But you are stepping on very, very thin ice right now. And I think I need to be alone for a while. You can go fix whatever mess you got yourself into and ….. possibly find me later.”

“I need you to stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Mhm, sure. See you later Frank” she turned around crossing her arms, the only sound she heard was slamming of the door. Stay here, damn my ass! He is not the boss of me. Y/N clenched her hands and without any more hesitation reached for the phone, dialing familiar number.

“Karen? I got s story and I think I could use your help in pursuit.”

***

“Thanks again for your help, Karen. You are like the only person I could ask for this favor.”

“I know. I would never back down from a good story.”

“The one that can set things straight?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at her blonde friend, unknowingly using the same words Frank choose while speaking to her a few hours later.

“Hey, you help Frank, I help Matt.”

“ So the devil got himself in some trouble as well.”

“Can’t remember the time where he did not.” Karen sighed “the shooting?”

“So you’ve heard…..”

“Y/N, be serious, everyone heard. It’s all over the news.”

“So I guess Matt believed it?”

“No.”

“No?” Y/N frowned. Considering Matt’s character and his relationship with Frank, both in civil and in the other impersonation this was quite surprising .

“No.” Karen shook her head “If anything, he had one of those hunch of his, you know what I mean” Karen rolled her eyes “and despite any rational argument decided to get to the bottom of it. Figure out who was a real perpetrator behind this …. Massacre.” And it got news talking about devil turning to the dark side.”

“This is not good. They are not in the best of terms and if they meet ……”

“They’ll be fine. We saw them working together before.”

“And it got them both bloodied and beaten up.”

“Nothing new, I guess.” The blonde shrugged

“And yet we are here to do exactly the same thing.”

“You are too modest, Y/N. We both know we are way better than both of them combined.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The girls laughed lightly. It was nice to have somewhat humorous approach but deep inside they were aware of the seriousness of the task they were up for.

***

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Two men were standing on the rooftop in front of each other. A second ago one of them was crouching on the edge, observing the group in the opposite building, but hearing soft landing behind reached for his gun and pointed it towards the other.

“Come on, Frank, I come in peace.” Matt Murdock in his Daredevil gear smirked “if I didn’t know better I would say you are scared.”

“You value yourself too much, Red.”

“And that is coming from you.”

Slowly Matt moved towards Frank and the latter lowered the weapon.

“I believe we have common interests here.”

“I work alone.”

“So do I. But this time ….”

“It’s no different this time.”

“It is.”

“You’re starting to get on my nerves here, Murdock.” Matt did not even bother to reply to that accusation. “I’m gonna ask you once again – why. The hell. Are you. here?”

“I got some bad press.” As if that sentence wasn’t vague enough

“So?”

“I need to clear my name.”

“You mean, devil’s name.” Frank snorted “I never took for the one who cared about reputation.”

“The girls are chasing this story as well.”

“Y/N?” Frank’s heartrate picked up significantly and Matt smirked. They had a fight.

“Alongside with Karen.”

“I told her to …..”

“And she is known for her listening, right? The only way to keep them safe is if we uncover the truth first. You know I’m right.”

“I hate you, Red.”

“What have you got till now?’

Seems like they were about to work together after all.

***

“So there was no suspicious activity in the neighborhood in that time?”  Y/N was interrogating one of the residents in the area with her most doe-like eyes, acting all innocent, like a scared little girl. This was something that always got people soft and talking.

“Sorry, doll. I was watching a football match. Heard nothing due to all my shouting. Can you imagine that this damn team….”

“Thank you so much, sir.” she cut him off  and walked away before he could get the chance to bore her with all the unimportant sport details.

“Anything?” Karen asked when Y/N crossed the street and approached her.

“Nope. Apart from some new knowledge of insects and soccer. You?”

“I may have a lead.”

“Of course you do. I don’t understand how you do that …..”

“Practice” Karen smiled “we will have to go to one of the bad areas.”

“Are there any different ones here, because I don’t think so.”

“But it’s getting dark, we will have to be careful.”

“Tell me something new, Karen. You are the one with the gun in your purse, so I guess I will have to hide behind you if we get in trouble. Now, where do we go?”

***

“Tell us what you know!” Matt and Frank where alternately yelling at the bloodied and almost unconscious man, five or six others defeated on the floor, leaving a gruesome trail of their actions.

“you two truly are pathetic and desperate….” The crime boss known under the alias Gold laughed mockingly “I’m not a snitch. You’ll get nothing from me.”

“I bet we can find a way to ….” Frank put a gun towards Gold’s head almost expecting Matt to stop him, but it never came.

“You assume your little gun can help you, Castle. Funny as it is. I’m not afraid of death….”

“You’re not dying just yet.” Matt hissed “it won’t be so easy……”

***

Karen and Y/N hesitantly approached suspiciously looking dive bar, the feeling of danger amplified by the quietness of the district and by the flicking street lights.

“Karen…..”

“I know……”

“Maybe we should……?”

“But we’ve come so far…..”

“But still, this is way above our level of expertise …….”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you may be right.”

“So, do we?”

“Not so fast you two!” deep voice made two girls froze in the spot. Soon they heard footsteps of many other people around, surrounding them, blocking any way out.

“Shit.” Both girls hissed in unison getting closer to each other in poor attempt to stay calm.

***

 “Will you hurry up, RED?!”

“You are the one who are slowing us down!”

“Shut the fuck up! Y/N is in danger now!”

“So is Karen!”

***

“Sweet, little, pathetic and innocent little girls. You came here looking for trouble or fun?”

“We can give you fun.”

“Even if it’s just going to be such from our point of view.”

Y/N and Karen were captured, taken to the basement and thrown into the middle of it, five criminals watching them like prays. While Y/N decided it would be best to just stay quiet and not give them any satisfaction Karen had a different plan in her head.   

“Are you all responsible for the firefight?”

“Are you a journalist, dearie? You want information? Guess you will have to work harder to get any.”

“I don’t really need them. I already figured out the truth.”

“Karen.” Y/N hissed warning her friend not to go any further with her words.

“Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” the other girl hissed “I think you act delusional! Can’t you see, we are in deep shit!”

“Well, well, well, I guess we got one who got some reason inside.” One of the man chuckled “good for you, girl. If you …. entertain us, we may even consider letting you out. As for your friend, not so sure. She is way too unruly, for her own good.” He came closer grabbing Karen’s chin making her look straight into his face.

“How would you like me to entertain you?” Y/N’s sultry voice distracted him enough to let go .

“I’ve got some ideas. First of all, I don’t like that little T-shirt of yours.”

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Karen cried ‘Stop it!”

“Hush, quiet, I’m sure we can work our way with those gentlemen.”

“Willing one, aren’t you. I like it.”

“Do you? Maybe you can convince my friend to join the game as well. What do you wish to do with us?”

“I’ve had so many girls during the years, you know, baby. So many different races transported from one place to another, here and there but you are the only one who are so open to the ideas”

“How am I different from them?” Y/N continued her flirting “is it my voice? My lips? My body?”

“They were always fighting. When we captured them and talked calmly they never listened. Just like your friend. Little sluts. We had to use some pills to actually convince them.”

“Oh….. how rude of them.” It was getting harder to keep the serious voice. This idiot had no idea what he was just doing, hypnotized by her words and the way she was sticking out her breasts.

“But you….. I might keep you to myself. You seem far too precious to sell you to anyone else.”

“Can you untie me then?”

“Boss!” before Y/N got what she wanted the person who was on the lookout outside came running inside  

“What the fuck, now!?”

“We got company! And I don’t mean those girls! Daredevil and Punisher!”

“WHAT! You brought them here!?”

“We did not!”

“Right. Like I believe you! And we were just getting acquainted! Too bad I will be forced to hurt you, baby. Just like I did before when someone got too interested in my business and we had to open fire. Now come here, little one” he grabbed Y/N pointing towards one of his minder instructing him to do the same with Karen. “We’re leaving.”

***

“Get the girls! I’ll hold them back!”

***

“Y/N!”  shooting left and right Frank got the room where the boss escaped with the girls, now keeping Y/N close to his, pointing a knife to her throat. “Let her go or I’ll kill you.”

“Before the bullet gets to me she’ll be already bleeding out. If you lower your gat however I may consider letting her go.

“Bullshit!”

“Right. It is, pure bullshit.” He smiled vindiclively and without any hesitation slit the girl’s throat.

“Y/N!” Frank and Karen yelled and from that moment the events turned unexpected turn.

***

Four people were crowded in the tiny room. Foggy joined his friends as soon as he could, after receiving disturbing call from Karen who was sobbing and in shaky voice described him what happened.  

Three of them dressed neatly in black, the last one refusing to choose this color and instead straying in his casual, ruffled clothes. Karen had flowers in her hands but she lacked any strength to hold them properly so they dangled dolefully. No one said a single word and it made the whole situation even more tragic. This is not how it was supposed to go. This was never supposed to happen.

Each one of them, were immersed in their own thoughts and feelings.

Karen was utterly broken, Foggy still processing the situation (since he wasn’t present at the scene),  Matt angry and Frank….. Frank was just standing in front of the window, without a single emotion on his face. His whole body stiff, his eyes unmoving, fists clenched. It was his fault. Again. It was all on him. She was right from the beginning. If he was honest with her it would never ended up like this. This was on him and he would never never live it through.

“Frank….” Karen noticed the catatonic state he was in and approached him quietly “frank?”

“FUCK!” he yelled taking her by surprise even if it was predictable.

“It’s not….” she started

“Don’t even started it. It is because of me! I should have stopped her and now…. now…..” his voice broke

“Y/N’s sot the person who could be stopped and you know it.”

“I just can’t …..” acting out of character he hid his face in hands “not again…..”

Seconds after Y/N got her throat cut, Matt came running through the door, aiming straight at the crime boss taking him down in a few, well aimed punches and kicks. Only then he had some time to wrap his head around the situation. Karen was crying and shaking on the ground next to Frank, who was holding Y/N in his arms, cradling her close, getting his hands and chest dirty and bloodied with her blood flowing freely.”

“It’s gonna be all right, baby, it’s gonna be all right. Just stay with me, please.”

“Frank.” Matt’s voice got the other man’s attention “We need to….”

“No. No, we   don’t need to anything. I will take her.”

“Be serious. We are still wanted. We can’t just walk into the hospital. I’ll call Claire, she will help us. Fuck! Take the help, Frank. You’re not the only one who cares about her!”

Castle just muttered something under his nose but nodded and as quick as it was possible they transported bleeding out girl to the medical facility hoping it was not too late to save her.

While Frank carried Y/N outside something dropped from the girl’s pocket. Dictating machine. She got it all on record. The confession of the criminals. Now, thanks to her sacrifice, it was possible to set things straight.  

“It’s gonna be fine, Frank. We will…..”

“It’s time.” Foggy interrupted them before any words were said. “We can go in now.”

“Maybe we should let Frank do it alone at first.” Matt chimed in “we can wait.” His eyes crossed Frank’s who just nodded and surprisingly quiet entered the adjacent room.

***

The clarity, sterility and brightness of the place was tragicomic contract to the way he looked like in his dark, messy clothes. Y/N was lying in the bed in the middle, looking innocent, pale, fragile and to small surrounded by the much bigger bedframe. Just another victim of rumble she should never be involved in, hurt, broken and yet, so peaceful. Frank clenched his jaws, since this was the only way for him to avoid screaming or breaking something. He could not stand seeing her this way. So…. lifeless. Seconds stretched into hours when he approached her, examining girl’s face.

“Y/n…..” he spoke with desperation in his voice, begging any higher entity he did not believe in to bring her back to him. “please…..”

“ Frank….?” Y/n stirred in her sleep, the first word in her lips being his name. And then she open eyes, her e/c orbs meeting his. “Hi…..” she whispered softly.

“ Y/N…..” he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his face “I thought I lost you…..”

“How …. How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“What happened?” she tried to lift herself up, but since it took too much strength she gave up and fell back onto the pillows.

“How much do you remember?”

“I…..” her hand involuntarily travelled to her throat “do I have a scar? Am I a badass now?”

“You were always a badass.” He admitted “Y/n…. I’m sorry…..”

“For what?”

“You were right.”

“Hm? Can you say that again? I was right?”

“Don’t.” he warned, corners of his lips lifting slightly

“Ok. But I need you to promise me something Frank. Right now, while you looking at me here. I need you to swear to me you will be honest with me from this time on. So I can help, having all the information. So I won’t have to search for my own and get hurt. Or worse, see you hurt. I am not a helpless little girl you take me for.”

“You surely look like one now, sweetheart. I was really scared about you. The doctors barely saved you……”

“This is a taste of your own medicine, dear. Now you know what it feels like to see the person you care about broken and hurting. Now, promise me.”

“I promise” he whispered leaning down and kissing her forehead in the most affectionate way he could, hoping she would get the silent message he could not relay with words. I love you.

“Will you stay with me? I’m sure Matt, Karen and Foggy are out wanting to see me, but I just want you for a while.”

“Always.”  

@pinksirensong

[flock-of-cassowaries]

I have pretty severe OCD, and I read an interesting post on OCD rep in Better Call Saul.

I’m not reblogging the post, because it’s an old post, I don’t think my input would necessarily make that person’s day / life better; but if I understood them correctly:

They felt that when Chuck uses his history of having OCD symptoms to manipulate Jimmy, this justifies the resentment other characters felt towards Chuck (for requiring them to accommodate him vis. his “electricity allergy”).

(For context, Chuck does this when he’s attempting to prove Jimmy’s fraud on the Mesa Verde case. )

I watched the same show, and didn’t feel this way at all.

I think it’s because I didn’t think that the resentment of the people around Chuck required justification.

I’ll preface the next part by saying that when I have been at my worst, my OCD has been as severe as Chuck’s is on the show.

My brain fixates on the possibility of germs, rather than on the dangers of electricity (though honestly, before I ever saw better call Saul, my rogue amygdala had actually briefly experimented with that exact OCD theme), but the outcomes are fairly similar.

I spent the first two years of the pandemic in a state of extremely high paranoia, refusing to leave my apartment, surrounded by $1000 worth of humming air purifiers.

It was very much Electric Blanket-era Chuck.

I think I see the resentment that the other characters (the HHM staff, and Jimmy) sometimes feel towards Chuck as reasonable, because:

I know that being around someone with severe OCD can be taxing. My own friends and loved ones are very accommodating towards and patient with me, but I know it’s not always easy, and they are probably quite frustrated, at times.

I feel that Chuck is coming from a place of extreme ego and privilege by refusing to entertain the idea that he is mentally ill; rather than asking for legitimately required accommodations in a situation of desperation, or demanding them because he has experienced a total loss of perspective, I feel that Chuck is content to impose his OCD on others. To do that protects his ego from the pain of admitting he is not in total control mentally, and is less difficult for him than the painful work of actually attempting to cope with OCD.

I see some of Chuck’s self-righteous privilege in myself, at times, but it’s very much tempered by the shame and horror I feel about asking someone to do something I know (deep down) is unreasonable. I still sometimes give into that temptation, but I try not to.

To be clear, I am not talking about instances where I have asked Unreasonable Things(tm) of people around me when I’m either:

a) so far into a spiral that I’ve honestly lost all perspective and don’t even realize I’m being unreasonable, or

b) when I can feel a bad panic-attack -type situation coming on and truly need a small-to-medium-level accommodation from a friend to arrest it

I’m not really ashamed of either of those situations. Embarrassed, yes; grateful to the kindness and patience of those who saw me through that time, yes.

But not ashamed.

What I see in Chuck, I guess, is something else; the worst possible iteration of me, perhaps.

And I guess the reason I don’t really feel that it’s unrealistic, or an unfair portrayal, is because I have known someone like that.

I have lived with a person who was like Chuck, in terms of their willingness to externalize their symptoms.

And it was fucking awful.

That person was my dad.

He almost definitely had OCD, but, like Chuck, he refused to acknowledge he was mentally ill.

He saw himself as uniquely brilliant and rational; completely in control of his own mind. Whenever his preferences clearly conflicted with what other people felt was reasonable, he blustered to the effect that he was The Only Sane Man.

Rather than admit he was anything less than entirely reasonable, he imposed his paranoia (about germs) and his preferences (for completely unblemished surfaces and surroundings) on everyone he could control (my mother and I).

It was miserable. It was unfair. It alienated everyone from our nuclear family (relatives, neighbours, and any potential friends), and it contributed a lot to my social isolation as a child.

It almost definitely also contributed a lot to reinforcing the same OCD fixations that I now struggle with, almost four decades later - symptoms that are more debilitating than any I ever saw him experience.

So yeah. That’s why I feel that Better Call Saul is not bad OCD rep.

Thank you for coming to my TedX Talk.

(Postscript: Chuck is honestly less awful than my dad. I feel a lot of sympathy for him, as a character, and was honestly shocked and upset by his death.)

(Postscript 2: I think I accepted his manipulation of Jimmy as just a manifestation of the kind of Machiavellianness that Jimmy himself often embodies. [As opposed to an indictment of people with OCD, or a vindication of everyone else’s resentment of the imposition that his symptoms represents to them.]

My dad is also highly Machiavellian, so that’s a characteristic that can definitely coexist with OCD.)

[buckysgrace]

6. Blue

Part six of Every Little Thing! Thank you to @floredaqueen for making the lovely art of Daphne and Gator I love them sooooo much <3

CW: Mentions of miscarriage, some hitting, shitty dads smh, some angst hehe

Gator stared at the card for a moment before he gained the courage to pick it up. He’d just returned back after sneaking out in the early hours, enamored by the way the sunlight danced off of Daphne’s exposed skin. He felt like he’d been a fool to stay that long, but couldn’t find it in himself to leave either.

Despite being made from cardstock, it weighed heavy in his hands and in his heart. His eyes traveled over her wide smile, the way her lipstick was nearly pristine as she had her cheek resting against Hugh’s shoulder.

It was an invitation. Some stupid party to celebrate their engagement. He felt his face burning in anger, trying to understand what she saw in that guy. They didn’t fit, they didn’t even act like a couple. He nearly felt like she was just trying to prove a point to him. 

“She looks pretty, doesn’t she?” Karen questioned as she appeared in the kitchen. Gator stared at the ring on Daphne’s finger for a moment longer before he dropped the picture, almost like it was burning his fingers. He was angry suddenly. 

He couldn’t believe her. It was like she was dangling it over his head, proudly showing off the life she was making without him. It felt wrong, all of it. 

“What’s the point of an engagement party anyways?” Gator grumbled as he finally brought his eyes up to Karen. Her right cheekbone was bruised, a nasty blue and purple that made his eyes linger for just a second too long. They both turned away as a way to not acknowledge it.

“Traditions,” Karen said softly, “You celebrate the happiness of the couple. At least that’s what my father told me.” She replied as she began to crack some eggs into a large bowl. He suddenly felt like the room was too small, like it was closing in on him. 

“I’m going out,” He said suddenly, forgetting why he had come over here in the first place, “I’ll be back later.” He mumbled underneath his breath as he headed back out the door, leaving as quickly as he had entered.

He struggled with his vape, taking a few deep inhales as he crossed back over towards the other house. He wasn’t sure why he was acting so surprised. Of course, Daphne was planning on marrying Hugh. He was just fooling himself. 

He took long strides up to his room before he yanked his closet open and reached around blindly for the folder that he’d had hidden away for such a long time. It felt heavy in his hands, despite being a single sheet of paper.

He fell back onto his bed, sitting down for a moment as he flipped it open again. It was slightly folded, a little dented for the many times that he’d held it and just stared at it in disbelief. He wanted to confront her the moment she’d gotten back, but had grown too distracted in his own want. He couldn’t keep up with her, not without knowing the truth. 

“Where are you going now?” Roy met him outside again, his eyebrows cocked high as Gator tossed the folder into his passenger seat. He paused for a second before he let the car door slam shut, not wanting Roy to find out the truth until he knew it for himself. 

“Gotta fix something.” He mumbled underneath his breath as he scratched at the back of his forehead. He did his best to look stoic, hoping that Roy wouldn’t read too much into his actions. 

“Son,” Roy looked at him more sternly, tilting his head until Gator was forced to look up at him, “I’m serious. You had your shot and you lost it. Don’t ruin her.” He felt his eyebrows furrowing together in defense, knowing that he wasn’t doing anything that Daphne didn’t want. He couldn’t help that she was marrying the wrong person. 

“What shot?” He grumbled underneath his breath, “We never spoke about getting married, not seriously like you guys wanted us to.” He pointed out, feeling like it was an unfair accusation. He and Daphne always teetered around each other’s feelings, like they were both too afraid to admit anything to one another. 

“I’m just saying it’s over with,” Roy replied, sounding a little more frustrated, “You have your life, she has her own. You didn’t take your chance seriously.” He reminded Gator, pointing out that Daphne had chosen someone else over him. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, just adding it to the list of other things that he’d done wrong. 

“I just need to talk to her,” He said softly, knowing that there was no point in hiding where he was going. Not to mention, if Roy knew the truth he’d agree with Gator completely, “Just to say bye.” He mumbled, but felt like he was lying.

“Yeah, well,” Roy sighed as he took a step back, “You’re not gonna be the only one that gets hurt.” He said softly. Gator did his best to keep from scoffing, not caring if Hugh got hurt in the process. As far as he could tell, Hugh didn’t deserve Daphne at all.

He settled into his car, feeling tense as he reversed out of his parking spot and slowly watched as Roy disappeared in the distance. He wondered if Roy would end up telling Bruce what was happening between him and Daphne. If anything else would happen. He wondered if Bruce knew the truth, but didn’t think it was possible. He wouldn’t hide something like that. 

He pushed the familiar door open, pausing his movements this time so he could keep from crushing Birdie. The fat cat rubbed his face against Gator’s ankles, before dragging his teeth across his pants with a purr and running away.

He shut the door quietly behind him, not used to seeing the house so empty as he walked inside. He crossed the ocean of pictures on the walls, his eyes lingering against Daphne’s preschool aged pictures in wonder as his mind began to race.

The sound of water running in the kitchen drew his attention away as he walked towards that direction. His heart hammered in his chest as he took in her the side of her face. He admired her wide lips, the way they pouted as she hummed to the radio in the background. He slowly drew his eyes up to her sloped nose that he had spent many nights tracing. She used to complain about it being too big, but he thought she was crazy. It wasn’t a small button nose, but it did fit her exactly as it was meant to. And it was squishy.

“Mornin’,” Daphne greeted cheerily, her thick eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as she looked at the way he stomped further into the kitchen, “Something wrong?” She asked him as she dragged a towel around a dish to dry it. 

“You’re really going to marry him?” He asked her a little loudly, unable to help the anger that was forming in his chest. He had been so sure that she was only doing this to make a show, to make him do something stupid. Her eyes turned wide as she set the dish up to finish drying. 

“That’s sort of what an engagement means.” She replied softly as she pulled an awkward smile up to her lips. He stared at her, fuming while he hoped that she’d have some sort of explanation. She shook her head softly, so lightly that he almost missed it. She was genuinely confused.

He thought about screaming in frustration, about demanding her to tell him why she’d done it. He scratched at the back of his neck, his heart hammering roughly as his veins burned in a silent fury. He didn’t want to expose how upset he was yet. 

“What about this?” He asked as he pushed the folder over towards her. She looked at it curiously, one dark eyebrow raised before she glanced up at him again. She tilted her head in confusion as she glanced back towards the folder. The air felt heavy between the two of them as he waited for her response. 

“What is that?” She asked hesitantly, looking like she was afraid of knowing. He observed her, trying to figure out if she had already figured out that he knew the truth. He didn’t want to play anymore games. He just wanted the truth. He just wanted her to be honest with him, to stop running. 

“I don’t know,” He shrugged his shoulders, “You tell me.” He said seriously as he waited for her to move. She stalled for another second before she took a step forward and pulled the folder towards her. She opened it even slower, like she was afraid of what she was going to read. 

Her blue eyes filled with tears, her features falling into a broken look as she stared down at the paper in front of her. Her finger lingered on the corner of the page as she exhaled deeply. Her voice shook as she looked up at him, tears beginning to pour from the corners of her eyes.

“How’d you get this?” She asked him, her voice trembling as she continued to look down at the paper in front of her. He watched the way she moved her palms across her abdomen, like she was trying to hide more evidence from him. He pressed his lips together, deciding that it was best that she stayed in the dark on certain things. He didn’t want to be the one to expose their families dark secrets, nor reveal the heinous things he was involved in. 

“You really thought I didn’t know?” He asked her instead as he shot her a serious look, wondering if she really thought that he’d just let her leave with no explanation. He wanted to believe that she’d tell him, but it was too far past that. She had no desire to share the truth with him. 

“Gator,” She cut herself off, taking another deep breath to try and keep her composure, “I’m sorry. I didn’t-,” She shook her head, looking like she was trying to find the right words to speak. He didn’t care for whatever excuse she was trying to come up with. 

“Didn’t what? Think you should tell me? I deserved to know.” He told her roughly, his voice laced with the different emotions he was trying to hide. He blinked roughly, still unable to look at her while she was crying. He huffed roughly. 

“You did but-,” She started hiccuping, crying so hard that she began to shake her head as she struggled to speak. Her hand shook as she brought it up to her mouth, covering her lips as she rapidly blinked the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. 

“I want to see my kid.” He said at last, firmly as he looked at her sharply. Her pouty lips parted, her eyes widening in shock as she looked over his features for a moment. She held her fingers together into a fist, staying silent for a long moment as she stared down at the counter. He figured the kid had to be back in France, with Hugh’s family or something. She had surely hidden the baby away, far from where he’d been able to find them. None of it made sense to him. He didn’t want someone else raising his kid.

He didn’t understand why she thought she had to leave. He would’ve helped her raise their baby together. More than that, he couldn’t understand why she would just leave without saying anything. He wondered if she was ashamed of him. He didn’t think he was that awful. 

“Gator,” She finally spoke, looking over at him sadly as tears trickled down her cheeks, “I never had a baby.” She whispered softly, choked up by her own tears as she continued to wipe at her cheeks. He furrowed his eyebrows together tightly. 

“You killed our baby?” He asked in disdain, unsure of why she felt like she had to do such a thing. They had done everything backwards, but they could’ve made it work. He couldn’t believe that after all they’d been through, she’d go behind his back and do something like that. 

“No,” She sobbed as she sniffled loudly, “I lost the baby.” She replied as her features wrinkled up in anguish. She looked like she was going to say more but cut herself off, breathing in deeply as she looked away from him again. 

He paused, resting his palm flat against the counter as he absorbed everything at once. He didn’t understand her. At one time he felt as if he could read her mind, but this made no sense to him at all. He didn’t understand why she didn’t want to be with him or why she would keep such a thing from him. 

He watched her for a moment, trying to piece together if she was lying or not. He felt his shoulders slumping a bit, his previous images of what their child would’ve looked like slowly disappearing as he knew her words were true. It didn’t make sense for her to come back here without a child, or for her to eventually live here and act like the child wasn’t his. 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He whispered softly, tilting his head as he watched her curiously. She was a mystery to him suddenly. Things could’ve been fixed. They could’ve worked it out. She didn’t have to run away. 

“You didn’t want anything serious,” She choked out, making his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion as he tried to remember when he would’ve said that, “And a baby is serious. I didn’t want to be treated the same way these other girls are so I left. I was going to tell you but by that time I lost her.” She revealed slowly, her cheeks red and raw from how many times she’d wiped at them. 

“Her?” He breathed out harshly, “We were going to have a girl?” He felt as if his heart had stopped, then started again with slow painful thumps inside of his chest. It felt tight, like he was struggling to breath suddenly. It all felt too real. He wondered if she would’ve had Daphne’s bright eyes or his dark ones. If she would’ve had his darker hair or her soft, red locks. He wondered if she would’ve greeted him at the door after work, the same way he’d done to Roy. 

Daphne looked at him wide eyed, like she was trying to form the right words to say. He looked at her, still feeling a little shocked as he mourned what his life could’ve been. He supposed that if he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t have told himself either. Still, he wished that he had known. 

“What are you doing?” Bruce’s voice rang through the kitchen, making the two of them jolt from the sudden intrusion. Daphne’s hands shook as she quickly shut the folder and reached into the sink, pulling out another wet dish as she tried to appear busy. Bruce looked irritated, his face slightly greasy with oil while his blonde hair was wet from the summer heat. Daphne didn’t meet his eye, trying to hide the messy way she’d been crying. 

“I was coming out there,” Daphne defended herself quickly as she scrubbed a dish dry in record time, “I’m sorry I just got-” She started to explain, but was quickly cut off by Bruce popping her in the mouth with the front of his knuckles.

She stumbled back in surprise, the plate crashing into the floor as she reached for her messy lip at the same time. Her blue eyes were shot wide in shock as Gator jumped from all the sudden commotion. He moved forward quickly, trying to reach her when Bruce held up a hand to stop him.

He held his breath out of anger, trying to keep himself from saying something dumb as he watched the quick way Daphne fell to her knees and began to frantically swoop pieces of ceramic up into a pile with her palms. He didn’t care how upset with her he was, she didn’t deserve that.

“Ten minutes,” Bruce warned, “Get that shit cleaned up and get outside. This isn’t my fucking wedding I’m setting up.” He told her sternly, pointing his finger at her one last time before he walked around Gator without another word or explanation. 

He hesitated, watching the way Bruce stormed out and slammed the door behind him. The house rattled from his rough actions, shaking it in his wake. Gator had never seen him act like that with either of his two girls before. August had really been the only one that he knew of that used to get hit roughly like that. 

He hated to see her cry, but especially like this. He slowly walked forward, having a hundred different apologies on his tongue but not saying any of them. He didn’t know what to say about Bruce. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her she shouldn’t be treated like that.

He crouched next to her softly, careful not to alarm her as she continued to sniffle and pile the broken pieces up as best as she could. He watched the way fat tears slid off of her cheeks and onto the floor. He reached underneath the counter, gently pressing a few larger pieces towards her that he could easily see. 

“Shoot,” Daphne’s voice shook as she did her best to sweep the broken glass up into her hands, “I’m so clumsy.” She forced out a laugh, a tight smile on her lips as she kept her eyes in front of her. He frowned, watching the small stream of blood that began to flow down her skin. 

“Here,” He paused, making her drop the glass from her trembling hands before he tilted her chin up towards him. He felt a pang in his chest as he met her wide, blue eyes. She looked surprised, fearful even as her eyes glistened over with fresh tears. He slowly trailed down to her bleeding lip, “It’s not too bad. It won’t take too long to scab over.” He reassured her softly as he reached for a napkin to dab the blood away.

“I need to clean this up,” She sniffled, her words slightly muffled as he wiped the blood away, “I was supposed to help him finish cleaning out the barn and I guess I just got distracted.” He parted his lips, feeling bad that she felt like she had to explain it to him. He was shocked too. He had seen Bruce spank her before when she was really young, but he’d never known him to backhand her. 

“My fault,” He told her softly, “I came at a bad time.” He told her honestly, knowing he kept her away from her duties by ambushing her. He pulled his hand away softly, leaning back on his ankles as her bottom lip began to quiver harder. 

“I’m sorry,” She choked out as she wiped at her eyes rapidly, “I wanted to tell you but then I just got so scared. And then I lost her and it felt like it didn’t matter.” She spit out, her eyes glassy as she glanced towards him again. Her features were wrinkled up in grief as she watched him, looking like she was desperate for him to believe her. 

“You should’ve told me,” He mumbled softly, but not in anger this time as he just lightly brushed his fingers against her own, “I could’ve helped you.” He told her truthfully, feeling like that was the safest thing to say. He didn’t want to admit to anything, not when she seemed so determined to make a happy life with Hugh. 

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, from regret or sadness. Or even humiliation from what Bruce had just done. Gator didn’t know. He just let her cry before he gently scooped her into his lap, his heart aching at the way she collapsed against him.

He squeezed her softly with one hand, feeling bad for the terrible day that he was certain he’d just caused. She felt small in his touch as her tears soaked into his shirt. He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain how he was feeling anyways. He felt like he was mourning her all over again. She was back, but nothing between them would ever be the same. 

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” She said at last, taking a deep sniffle as she wiped at her eyes. She inhaled sharply, turning to face him as sadness lingered in his eyes. He breathed out roughly, wondering if her heart was aching in the same manner. Their faces were close as he gently moved his thumb up to wipe at the corner of her eyes, “You must hate me.”

“I don’t understand why you kept it from me,” He told her truthfully as he traced his fingers across her soft skin. He tucked her hair behind her ears gently, trying to get a better look at her, “But I don't hate you.” He admitted, thinking that she would have to do a lot worse for him to ever hate her. 

Her eyes lingered across his features, reading his expression like she was trying to tell if he was lying or not. He gently brought his thumb back against her raw skin, trying to keep his mind from wandering to what could’ve been. He supposed they’d be married by now, perhaps another baby on the way if she had stayed. Or if she hadn’t lost their previous one. He curled his tongue in his mouth as he shut his thoughts off, not allowing himself to mourn a life that was already gone.

“I’m really sorry.” She repeated softly, looking quite pitiful with tear stained cheeks and a busted bottom lip. He gently pressed his fingers against her chin again, taking one last look at her sore lip before he pulled away from her entirely. He didn’t want to linger too close to her, fearful for what he’d do if he stayed near her.

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter,” He shrugged his shoulders as he stood, staring at the folder that was resting on the counter. He wondered if he should toss it, get rid of it entirely. There was no point in holding onto it anymore. It would just be a sad reminder, “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” She rose quickly before she wiped her palms against her thighs, “I mean, I’m sure mom would love to have you over for lunch.” She added softly as she gently began to pick at her nails. A bad nervous habit of hers. He opened his mouth, about to dismiss her statement when motion from down the hall caught their attention. 

“Oh,” Hugh spoke up, his accent raspy as Gator turned away to take the trash out, “What happened to your lip?” Hugh looked at her, his eyes blown wide in surprise as Gator finished tying up the trash bag. He glanced over towards her, watching the way she awkwardly held herself before she thought of an answer. 

“It’s silly,” Daphne gulped as she waved her hand into the air, “There’s a child lock on the drawer and I popped it open to fast, busted it off and popped myself in the face.” She replied clumsily, randomly gesturing like she was pointing towards one of the counters. Gator chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if Hugh even knew the type of family he was getting himself involved in. 

“Oh,” Hugh looked at her curiously as he just barely touched her chin to look at it, “Do you think it’ll be better by our party?” Gator scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at Hugh’s question. He couldn’t believe that Hugh was only worried with the way Daphne looked.

“Yeah,” Daphne piped up quickly, drawing Hugh’s attention from Gator’s angry features, “It’ll be fine.” She nodded her head urgently, trying to give Hugh a tight smile before she winced and stopped. She touched her lip again, like she was worried it had started to bleed. 

“I hope your lip heals,” Gator drawled out as he pulled the vape up to his mouth and took a deep inhale, “Otherwise you might have to postpone your party.” He said sarcastically as he blew out a cloud of smoke, snorting as he walked past Hugh. He hit his shoulder hard, not acknowledging the way that Hugh winced. 

His veins felt jittery with anger, his chest warm as his heart felt as if it was being squeezed roughly. He didn’t understand how Daphne could be with someone like Hugh. He didn’t understand what Hugh had that he didn’t. 

He slammed his door shut behind him as he sunk into the car seat. He twisted his fingers roughly across the steering wheel, inhaling sharply as he tried to calm himself. He felt like he needed a drink.  Maybe more. He just needed something to make him forget. 

“Gator,” Daphne rushed forward towards his car, looking a little panicked as she stopped in front of his window, “I didn’t hide it from you out of malice. I really wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how to.”

“Why?” Gator questioned her in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you trust me?” He asked her seriously, still in disbelief. He knew all of her other secrets and couldn’t imagine why hiding a pregnancy would be such a big deal. Their parents would’ve been furious, but it was something they would’ve eventually overcome together. 

“It wasn’t about trust,” She whispered softly, “We just wanted different things and I didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for.” He scoffed and shook his head, wondering where the cracks in their relationship had started.

“You didn’t even give me the chance.” He said simply as he looked up towards her. She looked conflicted for a moment, before she seemed to accept his statement. She pressed her fingers against the side of his car, gently tapping them as she thought.

“I know,” She looked down in shame, “It was a rushed decision. I thought I could raise her away from this. I was too ashamed to tell anyone after it happened.” He stared at her for a moment, still trying to promise that the baby had been real. That the baby had been a girl. That she was gone now and had been for a long time. 

“Yeah,” Gator nodded his head, “But you still came right back to this. I don’t know what you want me to say.” He told her truthfully, knowing that he wouldn’t dare say what he wanted to. There was nothing he could say that would change her mind. 

“I don’t either,” She admitted slowly, “I just want to know that you don’t hate me.” She whispered out as she found the courage to look at him again. He stared into her bright eyes, thinking that they resembled the prettiest sapphires. 

“You spent three years without me,” He reminded her, “Why should that matter now?” He questioned her with a soft shrug of his shoulders. She furrowed her eyebrows together, looking conflicted again. It was silent, minus for the sound of the chickens that were coming out from the coop. 

“You’re right,” She said softly, looking a little defeated, “I didn’t treat you fairly but my heart was broken. I couldn’t face you.” She said lightly as she brought a finger up to her mouth. She shot her eyes away, like she was too afraid to see his reaction.

He shook his head in confusion, feeling like he was still missing something. He didn’t understand how she was acting like she was heartbroken, like he had done something to hurt her. Despite their tangled feelings and the spark that they both shared but kept buried, they’d never gotten together officially. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care. 

“Daphne!” Bruce shouted as he rounded the corner of the house, “Are you coming or what?” He looked over at her in frustration, his palms out as he waited for her. Gator stiffened, hoping she wouldn’t get in trouble again. 

“I’m sorry,” She replied as she took a step back, “I really am.” She told him desperately, like she needed him to believe her. She turned then, rushing back towards the house as she shouted her apologies to Bruce.

Gator sat for another moment in confusion. He exhaled loudly as he shut his eyes and rested his head against the headrest. He felt exhausted as a dull ache settled over his chest and his mind burned with questions. He almost wished that she’d stayed away, that he’d never found out the truth.

He quickly shook those thoughts away, wishing that it could be that easy. He didn’t want Daphne to be gone and he didn’t want to be away from her. Deep down, he still knew that she was his. He just had to make her remember that. 

[hawkogurl]

in the genuine way possible, Why do you like Raimi verse MJ?

Would like a description of your thoughts.

So I just woke up (I know it’s 6PM I work night shifts) so this might not be as well verbalized as it could be. (Update: I put this in drafts and am now adding to it at midnight but I have had a day so prior warnings apply)

But for me, she’s a nuanced and flawed female character who isn’t given the credit for that she deserves and I think she kicks ass as a result. I don’t need characters I like to be good people, I need them to be interesting. She’s interesting.

But in terms of what people normally hate her for, I don’t really tend to agree for a variety of reasons. The main thing people get on her about is cheating, which is very much true, but that feels unfair when Peter also cheats! And he doesn’t see nearly the same amount of shit thrown at him that MJ does! (Wonder why that is?) Hell, he hits her while he has the symbiote but I barely see people bring it up. But on the note of her cheating, I don’t mind it because we’re given a reason as to why she’s got such bad commitment issues that I find interesting. She grew up in an extremely unstable home with a seemingly chronically ill mother and a verbally and likely physically abusive father. She’s a dysfunctional person for sure, but we as a community are more than willing to read into and analyze far worse behaviors in Peter, Harry, hell, people outright ignore Norman being an abusive father. It’s bs to me that she’s not given the same treatment. Shes someone who grew up in an unstable environment. Shes used to that. Her entire life in her formative years was that. As a result, the way I see it, she either gets into relationships with people who tend to continue not treating her well (Flash and to a degree Harry.) and when she’s in more stable relationships that hurt her less, (like John) I theorize that the reason she does so much to put them in jeopardy is that her, stability with men in her life is always something that has ended inevitably, but abruptly and probably violently. Being the one to destroy a relationship her trauma screams at her will inevitably end with her being hurt again gives her a sense of control.

And on top of that, I find her emotional responses to Peter’s behavior while he dates her extremely human! Sure, she definitely makes mistakes in how she handles it, but I personally absolutely hate the degree to which people ignore Peter’s own mistreatment of her. I’m not gonna claim she did nothing wrong, but people in this fandom have a tendency to remove responsibility or the ability to have done something wrong from Peter. At that point in the movies, Peter has everything going for him. His life is finally going well and as a result of his own inflated ego and the fact the world has revolved around him he sort of seems to forget that she has her own life and her own problems that she wants to be heard and understood and supported through. His ability to do that is one of the things that drew her to him in the first movie and she’s watching him as it becomes apparent he doesn’t really have that anymore. Everything in his life revolves around him and has for years, so when her life problems get brought up and he makes them about himself and remains somewhat unempathetic and so absorbed in his own joy he doesn’t notice how poorly she’s doing, I find it personally hard to deny that’s exactly how I would feel in that situation. I hate that people refuse to empathize with her, or when they do on a surface level they still refuse to acknowledge any blame Peter has there. Hell, I find it hard to deny that I’m irritated that it’s basically overlooked that Peter kissed another woman in front of her face but people will rip her to shreds for kissing another man one time. I’m not gonna say she didn’t fuck up, but I find the way she’s treated unfair and I frankly think the opinion wouldn’t skew the same if she was a man for both of these topics.

I also just like that she’s a person? She has emotions that feel real, she has a life and a career outside her relationship with Peter, she has compelling trauma that informs her decisions. I frankly find her to be a more nuanced and interesting character than MCU MJ or TASM Gwen simply because she feels more well rounded and flawed. They’re better and more likeable love interests, but I frankly think she’s a better character. Everything that people praise in them as something that makes them Better Than Raimi MJ either feels like rather shallow traits or things that feel somewhat misogynistic towards Raimi MJ, a character who they claim they don’t like due to misogynistic writing. No hate to those to ladies, I see the appeal to them and I think people should like them, but Raimi Mj has more depth to me.

In conclusion: To like a character I don’t need them to be a good person I need them to be interesting. Shes interesting. Also everyone in this trilogy, including Peter, is at least somewhat a bad person. So I don’t know why she specifically is being treated with so much less grace other than the obvious reason.

[tagthescullion]

I'll Take The Blame

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson & the Olympians

Summary: Two conversations between Silena and Luke. (Based on @bigmimikyu's art!)

Rating: G

Words: 1968

AO3 link

Silena opened the door to find Luke sulking in an armchair, overlooking the sea.

He was frowning, but it wasn’t a wince caused by the physical pain that had left him bedridden for weeks after his fall, he looked upset.

Silena entered his room quietly, but not completely silently. He didn’t like being startled.

He barely acknowledged her, keeping his eyes on the soft waves of the blue ocean.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

It was a bit of an empty sentiment. She wasn’t happy that he was hurting, but it was immature to keep moping around because a former friend didn’t see eye to eye with you.

“You’re not,” he replied. 

She shrugged. “She’s an uncontrollable force. I’ve seen her at Camp.”

“She’d be a great ally,” Luke argued. “If you’ve seen what she can do, you should agree.”

“You’re not upset because we lost an ally, though,” Silena said. “You wanted Thalia to join because she means something to you.”

Luke turned towards her. His eyes were rimmed with red, but they were hard.

“You didn’t want her to join,” he countered. “Because you never liked her as a person.”

“That’s not true,” she said, sitting on a couch to his left. “I barely know her.”

“You’ve spent most of last summer with her,” he reminded her. “Your observations helped me convince him that she was worth it. You do know her.”

“I—” Silena hesitated. “I think she’s too impulsive, too selfish, too loyal to…” She was about to say ‘Annabeth’, but that was a sore topic. “To individual people. It’s impossible to know who she’ll support. What side she’ll fight for.”

“Then why did you give me the green light?”

“I did it for you,” she admitted. “It mattered to you. I don’t know in what way, or how much you love her, or the idea of her, but you do. I thought it was fair to give you a chance to make her see reason.”

Luke’s frown deepened. He turned towards her, and scanned her face intently.

“You knew she’d reject my offer,” he said, sitting up and leaning away from her. “You knew she’d never join us, that’s why you let us go ahead with our plans.”

He was right. 

Silena had watched Thalia Grace’s every move from the moment she’d been turned into a human again. She’d considered the girl’s every decision, every action. Thalia resented her father, she despised the way Athena had neglected Annabeth, and she wasn’t the biggest fan of the Olympians in general. And yet, it hadn’t been enough. 

Luke had insisted that her biggest flaw was power, that she’d never say no to a challenge, and would never pass the opportunity to accept leadership. It wasn’t often Silena doubted Luke, and this time, she’d been proved right.

Perhaps, power would have been enough to make Thalia betray her father, but not her friends. Not even for a better system, and a less unfair way of life. 

“You needed to see it by yourself,” Silena told him. “You wouldn’t have believed me even if I had shown you a shit-ton of evidence.”

Luke turned back to the window. A dark cloud was beginning to block the sun, dividing the water below them into two defined halves.

Silena waited until three quarters of their view were under the cloud’s shadow before speaking.

“Does this change anything?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, startled.

“Does this make you want to stop?” She clarified. “Your work here, I mean.”

Luke inhaled slowly. “No. We made our choice, and she made hers. We’re on the right path. If she wants to be a disposable weapon for her father and the rest of that mess of a family, so be it.”

Silena wasn’t sure she believed him. It was the first time she’d heard him sound unsure about his position. He’d always been confident, loud, and convincing when he spoke of the new order they’d help build. Instead, his words transpired with the pain of betrayal. He sounded deflated, as if one demigod’s choice was worth more than his own commitment and that of the rest of the army he’d amassed. 

She leaned forward and grabbed one of Luke’s hands. His face snapped towards her.

“You need to get over this,” she said. “I get it, you got dumped by your childhood crush, that’s sad but—”

Luke snorted. “You think that’s what this is? It’s not because of a crush. I’m disappointed in her, that’s all. I hoped she’d be wiser than that. I mean, she’d still be a tree if it weren’t for me.”

“You did poison her, too,” she reminded him. “I wouldn’t expect her to be grateful.”

“It was the only way Chiron would’ve allowed a quest to get the Fleece to revive her!”

Silena tried not to lose her patience. This wasn’t important. Thalia was a weapon they didn’t manage to get. Period and over. Kronos had never agreed to transform her back out of any kind of sentimentality for Luke’s sake. She could have been useful, now she wasn’t. They had to move on from there.

She took a deep breath. “You’ve been given time to recover —body and mind—, and now you have a choice in front of you: you either stay this lethargic and useless version of you, or you get off your ass and become the leader you’re supposed to be. You are a key element in a war that could free us from the Olympian’s slavery, don’t give that up because somebody hurt you!”

There was a flicker of something in Luke’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked remarkably like despair.

“It’s not only Thalia, is it?”

Luke faced her, his eyes frank and open. He was terrified.

“Do you know,” he began, his voice small, “how in World War Two they used to say ‘careless talk costs lives’?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “They were right. Please don’t ask me about it.”

It made her shudder. Luke was brave, if he was this scared, it couldn’t be anything pleasant. On the other hand, there was always an advantage to being able to claim plausible deniability.

She squeezed the hand she was still holding. He wouldn’t tell her what it was, he was stubborn as hell, but at least he knew he had support, whatever happened.

Months later, Silena would wonder if she would’ve been able to talk him out of allowing Kronos to use his body as a vessel, but by then it would be too late.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Death was boring.

Or it had been for the past several hours.

She had no idea if the delay meant the gods were winning or losing the battle up in Manhattan, and she was too embarrassed to find somebody she knew to ask.

And, gods, were there lots of people she knew. 

Not Charlie. He’d been dead for days, he’d be in Elysium if there was any fairness to death at all. But the line to face the judges was plagued with demigods who’d died over the past couple of days, and behind her she’d spotted more that had arrived after she had.

She’d taken the cowardly approach to her situation, and had camouflaged herself amidst a group of mortals who served as a shield obscuring her form from her former comrades.

Time passed. It was hard to tell how long. Silena wasn’t sure if it was hours, days, or weeks.

She saw demigods huddle together in little groups. They talked, they looked around curiously. A few Hunters joined, some preferred to stay in their own groups.

It was a morose sight. Children dressed in ghostly armour, their eyes shining with defiance to the unknown.

She was starting to get anxious. She felt… she didn’t really feel. It was the most bizarre thing ever. She was. That’s all she could affirm. She didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, warm or cold, the pain from the drakon’s acid was a phantom of discomfort that wasn’t even a real feeling. 

There was a commotion at the front of the line, and people —souls— started moving. 

A deity with dark brown skin and black wings walked through the lines, picking demigods out of the queue and taking them forward, skipping the line. Thanatos, Hades’ lieutenant.

Keeping herself out of sight from other demigods —being invisible was a talent she’d perfected after years as an informant—, and thankfully ignored by Thanatos, Silena managed to back up until she was close to the newest arrivals, mortals, by the look of it.

Or most of them, that is.

She spotted the last demigod she could recognise some twenty yards in front of her. He turned his head curiously, as if sensing a similar presence nearby. 

To avoid his gaze, Silena backtracked quickly and bumped into another person —or spirit, anyway—.

“I’m sorry,” she said hastily, turning around.

In her hurry, she tripped backwards and had to be caught by the ghostly, yet surprisingly solid, arms of the spirit she’d run into.

Her eyes widened when she saw his face.

Tall, dirty blond hair, his T-shirt drenched in blood, the scar on the left side of his face, and his eyes back to their usual light blue.

“I think that’s what I should be saying,” Luke replied.

He let go of her shoulders.

The queue kept moving, prompting spirits to stumble into them,  standing as they were in the middle of everything.

Luke nodded to the side, towards a high wall of obsidian rock.

She walked behind him, and leaned on the wall next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be up front?” He wondered. “Hades gave the order for all of the demigods and Hunters who died to be judged first.”

“Were you not included?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t think anybody wants to see me right now. You, though, have at least one guy who’s waiting.”

Silena smiled cynically. “I don’t think he’s got the best opinion of me.”

“That di Angelo kid told Jackson Beckendorf was waiting for you,” Luke told her.

She raised her eyebrows. “And you know this, how?”

“Weirdly specific dreams,” was all he said. After a long silence he added: “Just blame me for what happened. I think it’s fair.”

“I don’t,” she argued. “You didn’t make me join your side.”

He tilted his head. “I didn’t let you leave, though.”

That she wasn’t so sure about. It was Kronos who had stopped her from leaving or confessing. Would Luke have stopped her too?

He saw the skepticism in her face.

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” he remarked. 

She took that into consideration. So he had stopped demigods from either returning to Camp, or to their families. 

It made her think of Chris Rodríguez, of the precarious arrangement they’d agreed on when he’d seen her back in Camp. Even if those demigods had returned, would they have revealed everything? Was it necessary to stop them by force or threats?

She recalled the last months before Kronos took possession of Luke’s body. The uncertainty she saw when he let his defences down. Not only fear for his own well-being, anguish about how deep they were involved with forces they couldn’t control.

“Did you ever want to stop?” She asked at last.

“Does it matter?” He scoffed. “We both made our choices.”

She acknowledged the truth behind that with a nod. “When we were young and stupid, maybe.”

 “I don’t think I’m allowed to feel bad about what I did,” Luke said. “No matter how young and naïve I was when I made my choice.”

“Just tell me.” Silena insisted. “Did you ever regret it? I think I deserve to know.”

Luke sighed. He shook his head, his expression full of pain. “Of course I did.”

[rushingheadlong]

I’ve anonymized this ask because I actually want to talk about this publicly but I want to respect their desire to not have their name attached to this conversation.

(Usual warnings for length, also CW for discussions of homophobia. Because of how this ask was worded we're going to engage with the possibility of Brian being queer, but there are criticisms about some specific ways the fandom discusses that. If any of that sounds upsetting to you, just skip over this post.)

First, a fairly significant correction: I didn’t say that Harold wasn’t the biggest contributor to “Brian staying in the closet” at all. I’m going to talk about that assumption of queerness later, but this is what I actually said in my tags:

#it's really REALLY clear that at the VERY least his upbringing by Harold impeded Brian's ability to fully explore himself #and his identity/attractions/etc. the way he should have been able to #(tho I don't think Harold was the biggest/only contributor to that but. idk.)

Which I think is fairly self-explanatory but, to break it down more simply, based on all the evidence we have of what Harold was like as a person it seems that he was an extremely traditional patriarch who expected Brian to grow up and fulfill the same role within his own family. We know that they had major clashes over this and from interviews we know that Brian struggled with feeling inadequate as a husband and father specifically because he couldn’t step into the patriarchal role that he felt pressured to fill.

From there, I don’t think it’s unfair to extrapolate out and say that an upbringing that pushed that very traditional view of manhood would likely have also included other “traditional” ideas i.e. misogyny, homophobia, etc. The misogyny is easy to confirm, not just through Brian’s earlier songs (like Son and Daughter) but through later comments on his parents’ marriage that revealed specific ways that Ruth May was absolutely subservient to her husband while he was alive.

The homophobia I don’t think can be “confirmed” in the same way, although I do recall once reading an interview with Brian where he admitted to having to let go of homophobic ideas he used to hold in his youth (though I cannot for the life of me find that interview now, so take that with a grain of salt). But regardless of the extent of homophobia, if it was there I again don’t think it’s unfair to say that that would have impeded any potential experimentation with men at least in Brian’s younger years - I mean for one thing, Brian has already specifically said that he declined the advances from men while on tour even though he didn’t decline when propositioned by women.

If you want to theorize that Brian is some form of queer you can look at him turning down offers from men as possibly a sign of internalized homophobia due to his upbringing. It’s possible that even after Brian unlearned those prejudices with regards to other people, that he couldn’t unlearn them with regards to himself. It’s possible that Brian privately acknowledged his queerness, but felt that acting upon it would be somehow a “worse” betrayal of his marriage than cheating with another woman.

However, it’s also possible that there was no internalized homophobia at play at all and that Brian’s actions and comments (or lack thereof) are driven by concerns about the band, with really nothing to do with Harold at all. We already have Freddie saying, on multiple occasions in both the 70s and 80s, that if he were to be more open about his own sexuality that it would ruin Queen forever. If Brian were also queer it would make sense for him to have the same reservations about saying anything, and those reservations could have been enough to make him hesitant to be with another man at all for fear of rumors spreading.

(ETA: Not to mention, the AIDS crisis could have been a deterrent to try anything as well, especially if he hadn't already by then. That wasn't too uncommon among men who lived through that time.)

There’s also the issue that if Brian were queer, any reservations he had about coming out were likely compounded after Freddie’s death, because there’s simply no way to make that announcement now without Freddie’s name being attached to things whether it should be or not. There would be speculation about whether Brian and Freddie were ever more than “just” friends, speculation about the full extent of Brian’s history with men, speculation about the validity of his marriages to Chrissy and Anita, speculation about Roger and John and if they knew or if they were also queer… The tabloids would have a fucking field day with an announcement like that and it would reverberate throughout Brian’s life, impacting not only himself but his closest friends and family, as well as all his relationships suddenly becoming hyper-scrutinized by people intent on “proving” what is “real” or “not real” about any of them.

Even if you want to believe that that wouldn’t happen and people would only react positively to such an announcement, I need you to step back and consider what sort of comments you consider “supportive” and if that’s actually how they would be received. An entire fandom of RPF shippers crying “I told you so!” and descending on his IG to ask invasive questions isn’t supportive. A world that nitpicks identities to make sure that people are using the “right” ones isn’t supportive. A culture where “jokes” about single-gender schools turning people gay are still prevalent isn’t supportive (and when I am still seeing people defend comments about Freddie’s boarding school playing a role in his own identity, you can’t tell me that people wouldn’t make the same jabs about Brian if they got the chance).

I think it’s safe to say that Harold’s view did have an impact on how Brian explored himself and his identity because we already know for a fact that those views deeply impacted the entirety of his first marriage, to the point that Brian has said that he likely wouldn’t have gotten married to Chrissy at all if it wasn’t for pressure from his father.

(ETA: But I don't think you can safely say that Harold was the biggest/only contributor to how Brian explored his own identity when you consider the overall time period we're talking about, and the complications of both the band and Brian's existing marriage. And with regards to his attraction to women specifically, Brian has already made it clear that that was impacted by the lack of socialization with girls at school, not his father.)

But to engage with your question, if Brian is queer I think it’s far more likely that Brian has stayed in the closet due to concerns about the response, to protect the privacy of himself and those closest to him, and out of respect for Freddie’s own legacy, rather than because of specific views of his father, especially since both of his parents have been dead for decades now.

Now, this isn’t what you asked in your question but I do also want to address the phrasing of “Brian staying in the closet” because I think it’s actually rather worrying that that’s what was taken from my tags.

Is it impossible for Brian to be queer? No, of course not, and to be honest if he did ever come out I wouldn’t actually be surprised. However I am begging this fandom on my hands and knees to remember that Brian has said that he’s straight on multiple occasions.

Here’s him calling himself heterosexual in 1993, shortly after Freddie’s death:

And here’s him saying that he’s not attracted to men a decade later in 2003:

There’s nothing wrong with talking what-ifs but you have to keep in mind what Brian has actually said himself. Even more importantly, you absolutely have to be mindful of what you’re using as “evidence” of queerness because, while it doesn't happen all the time, it is very common in this fandom for that sort of speculation to run straight into stereotyping and, by extension, homophobia.

A man will never be queer simply because he wears jewelry/nail polish/women’s clothing/etc., or because he’s friends with other queer men or wrote songs for them, or because he was unhappy in a heterosexual marriage, or because he’s done drag a few times, or because he’s spoken out about queer rights and history, or because his music resonates with queer people today.

These are all reasons I’ve seen given for why Brian “has” to be queer… but why? Why do you think that wearing things typically worn by women makes a man queer? Why are you so quick to disregard the existence of any femininity in straight cis men? Why do you think that people can’t support the queer community unless they’re queer themselves? Why do you think that your feelings about Brian’s music are any indication of what he actually meant, when it's incredibly common for people to attribute meanings to songs contrary to what the artist intended?

I don’t think that most people who point to these sorts of things as “evidence” of queerness are being consciously, maliciously homophobic but it absolutely is homophobic to reduce these traits down to one-dimensional stereotypes in order to argue that because Brian does XYZ that means he must be queer. I mean, do I really have to break down why it’s problematic to enforce binary gender norms by saying that Brian wearing necklaces is proof of queerness, as if straight men are somehow physically impossible of also wearing necklaces?

There are absolutely more respectful ways to talk about "evidence" of queerness and the OP mentioned in this ask is a great example of that, by using direct words Brian has said specifically about his sexuality, attraction, and relationships to make their point rather than relying on stereotypes about looks or behaviors.

Because if you're going to have these conversations, you have to acknowledge what Brian has actually said. That includes his comments about heterosexuality and attraction to women and, furthermore, acknowledging those comments is not the same as denying any possibility that he's queer.

Brian is an English baby boomer and you cannot separate that from these sorts of discussions. It’s very common for people of his generation to have ideas and identities that are directly at odds with the philosophies of younger generations, and pretending otherwise - or condemning those things for being “wrong” - requires you to completely ignore and rewrite actual queer history in order to do so.

If you look at how people have identified throughout the 20th and 21st centuries, you’ll find a ton of examples of people proudly using seemingly “wrong” labels for themselves. Tom Robinson, author of the song “Glad to Be Gay”, continued to identify specifically as a gay man for years after marrying a woman. Phill Jupitus, a former stand-up comedian, once had an entire 20-minute podcast where he talked about his past sexual encounters with and continuing attractions towards men while identifying the entire time as a straight man and not bisexual. Hell my best friend for over a decade is a queer man married to a woman who still identifies as a lesbian for deeply personal reasons that are unlikely to ever change.

As a queer man myself, I would love to see discussions about this that acknowledge that kind of nuance. I would love to see people approach this conversation by asking why Brian identifies as straight instead of just looking for proof that he’s lying about his identity.

Because if you want to talk about the possibility of Brian being queer, what does it then mean that he chooses to publicly identify as straight instead? Does he claim that label because he doesn’t identify with queerness at all, because he feels obligated to because of his relationships with women, or because he feels those relationships are more representative of who he is?

What does it say about the dynamics among Queen if the others always assumed something, but never said? Or if Brian only told Roger and John after the fact in the 90s? Or if Brian made the choice to never say anything to them either? Disregarding shipping entirely, what would it say about Brian’s friendship with Freddie if he knew the singer was gay but never shared a hint of his own queerness in return?

What does it say - about Brian, the band, the fandom, society - if Brian is indeed making a conscious choice to hide any attraction to men? And we do need to include the fandom here, because while it’s tempting to assume that nothing we do makes it way back to the band that’s really not the case at all. The official Queen discord server has had to make multiple statements not to post about shipping etc. and there were innumerable comments on Brian’s own IG page post-borhap accusing him and Roger of homophobia because of the movie. Discussions of Brian’s relationship to queerness have already reached his sphere of influence, whether we wanted it to or not.

We’re in a time where the prevalence of social media is wearing down the concept of personal privacy and making people feel entitled to information about celebrities that’s none of their business at all. We’ve seen this with Kit Connor being forced to come out after Heartstopper due to accusations of "queerbaiting" and F1nnster delaying coming out due to fears of backlash from not using the “right” label. Or if you want an example from an older generation, when Con O’Neill came out he said he was doing so because he felt ready but there is still rampant speculation in the fandom that part of his reasoning was in response to the queerphobia being leveled at Izzy Hands fans.

Let me repeat that: a queer man explicitly said he was coming out because he felt personally ready to do so, and a wide swath of fans have already made it about themselves and their fandom experiences.

These celebrities are far from being isolated cases. There are countless others who have been forced into making deeply personal decisions based not on what feels right to them, but what will appease the crowds of strangers who watch and follow them.

So, since the original question was about that post on Harold, let's bring it back to that point with one final question from myself:

If Brian is in fact queer, do you think that his long-dead father is really the biggest reason that a world-famous multi-millionaire twice-knighted astrophysicist rockstar may still be choosing to stay in the closet after all this time?

One final note that anyone who engages with this post in bad-faith is being blocked. I have neither the desire nor spoons to argue with anyone who insists that this fandom isn't homophobic or that their homophobia is somehow different because they mean well by it.

[yourdaddyfigure]

yo. i need some advice and i wasn’t really sure where to go to get some outsider perspective so i hope me coming here is okay.

i have a boyfriend. a fiancé actually, we just got engaged about 2 months ago. we’ve been together for 2 and a half years and he was my first boyfriend. when we met i knew that he had a past and had been with other girls and been in previous relationships. it bothered me a bit at first but not too much. i had only been with one guy before i met him (first kiss, first time all of that but it was a situationship/fwb type of vibe so not a boyfriend). he knew i hadn’t been in a relationship but that id done the deed already. through our relationship we never really brought up our past besides his most serious relationship before me. i was always curious to know how many girls he’d been with/slept with but i thought if i don’t know about it it would never affect me. the past is the past right? haha. fast forward to tn something brought it up and he ended up telling me. the number wasn’t as scary as i was expecting (like 10+) but it was enough (3, not incl me). our conversation was fine at first till i proceeded to ask him why he didn’t want know what mine was and if he expected it to bad to which he said yes. when i asked him if the tables were turned and my number was 3 or 4 would it be an issue.

he told me yes and said he’d break up with me. i proceeded to try and reason with him to get him to see how hypocritical that is and how it would mean he really doesn’t love me if he’d break up with me for that? like i get it’s hypothetical cause i’ve only been with one guy but it still really breaks my heart because i’d never think like that and it’s definitely not something i’d break up with him for but to know that that’s what he’d do if it were me and the roles were reversed like i’m just. i don’t know what to think. we got into a mini argument about (this is all over text btw) and yeah he proceeded to get majorly upset at me for ruining our lovely day and tell me he’s going to sleep and i should leave him alone.

haha dandelions and roses and all that isn’t it? i’m sorry i just don’t know what to think. am i being unreasonable or dumb here. i need an outside pov so if you have any advice on this pls lmk :( this isn’t something i’d want to break up with him for but i sfill feel hurt about it for some reason ?? AM I DELUSIONAL??

I totally understand why you're feeling hurt and confused right now. It's definitely not easy to deal with such situations, especially when it involves someone you deeply care about and are planning to spend your life with. Let's break this down a bit.

First, it's important to acknowledge your feelings. You're not being delusional or unreasonable for feeling hurt. Your fiancé's reaction to the hypothetical situation has understandably made you question his feelings and the fairness in your relationship. It's natural to feel upset when you realize there might be a double standard at play.

From what you've described, it seems like the core issue here is the perceived hypocrisy. You were okay with his past and didn't let it affect your relationship, but his response to the hypothetical situation where your past was similar to his is troubling. This discrepancy can indeed feel unfair and hurtful.

Here are a few steps you might consider taking:

1. **Reflect on Your Feelings**: Take some time to understand why his answer bothers you so much. Is it the double standard, the feeling of being judged, or something else? Knowing exactly what hurts will help you communicate your feelings better.

2. **Open Communication**: When both of you are calm, have a face-to-face conversation about how his response made you feel. Texting can sometimes escalate misunderstandings. Explain that it's not about the number but about the principle of fairness and mutual respect.

3. **Seek Understanding**: Try to understand why he feels the way he does. Sometimes, people have deep-seated beliefs or insecurities that they might not even be fully aware of. Understanding his perspective might help you both find common ground.

4. **Discuss Boundaries and Expectations**: Talk about what you both expect from each other and your relationship. Setting clear boundaries and understanding each other's viewpoints can prevent future misunderstandings.

5. **Consider Counseling**: If this issue feels too big to handle on your own, couples counseling can be a great way to navigate these tough conversations with the help of a professional. It can provide a safe space for both of you to express your feelings and work through them constructively.

Remember, every relationship has its ups and downs, and it's how you navigate through these challenges that often strengthens the bond. It's important that both of you feel respected and valued in the relationship. If this issue continues to bother you, it's crucial to address it rather than letting it fester.

Ultimately, you deserve to feel loved and respected for who you are, including your past. It might take some time and effort, but having these tough conversations is essential for a healthy and happy relationship.