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eschatologicalblank · 2 years

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Darkness

This is a post I made on another blog (here) a while ago; I thought I might as well stick it on here too.

A metaphor that crops up in the Bible quite a bit is that of light and darkness. Unfortunately for me, I genuinely like the darkness – not the metaphorical darkness, the actual, literal darkness – which has always made the metaphor a little confusing for me. I find very bright light – especially bright sunlight – uncomfortable, and the dark is by comparison comfy. And there’s a reason I’ve stuck with a photo of the starry design of my bedroom blind as a profile picture for so long – because I hate my face really like the stars.

Well, now I have moved Up NorthTM for my Master’s, my route back from evening services goes through a pitch-black forest and I suddenly have a newfound appreciation for those metaphors.

It is, as you can probably guess, really spooky. I have to observe basically every piece of advice I’ve ever read in a fantasy novel to convince my lizardbrain that I won’t be eaten by some monster out of folklore – no running, no stopping, no meeting the gaze of reflective eyes among the trees, no leaving the path, and absolutely no looking back. But the most important enabling factor is my phone’s torch. In fact, the other day I had to take a massive detour because my phone’s battery got low enough that it wouldn’t let me turn the torch on.

In Psalm 119, the narrator addresses God, saying “Your word is a lamp for my feet, and a light for my path” – like my phone. Unlike my phone, the Bible doesn’t run out of battery – that is, there is no point at which reading it stops being illuminating. Even if you’ve read a verse a hundred times before, there’s always something new to draw from it, to comfort and to guide – especially when reading it with others.

But like my phone, it’s important to remember that the Bible cannot illuminate the entire path before us, only a little ways ahead – it’s good for figuring out what to do in your current circumstances, but you can’t figure out what’ll happen five years from now from it. After all, fitting the entire life stories of everyone who would ever read it would make it even longer than it already is.

Of course, sometimes the darkness that strikes fear into my heart is a little less literal than a dark forest. I think most people have had the experience of looking at current events and being afraid; whether it’s climate change not being taken seriously enough, pointless infighting among people who should know better, politicians making statements seemingly designed to stir up hatred and misunderstanding, or large news companies uncritically presenting the opinions of a genocide advocate – and those are just the ones going on in the UK – it can often feel like the world is full of threats formed by the twin evils of apathy and malice.

This is because it is, which makes trying to assuage these fears fairly tricky. There are of course a number of verses I could quote here about dealing with fears like these, but for better or worse the thing that’s helped me most isn’t actually from the Bible at all – instead, it’s an excerpt from the poem ‘The Present Crisis’, written nearly 20 years before the American Civil War about the evils of slavery. Some of the theology in it is a little dodgy – I’m fairly sure people get more than one chance to decide whether to stand “for the good or evil side” – but a lot of it is both generally applicable and accurate, including:

Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 'tis Truth alone is strong, And, albeit she wander outcast now, I see around her throng Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her from all wrong. [...] Careless seems the great Avenger; history's pages but record One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word; Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,— Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.

Can you see why I like it? It acknowledges the fear and frustration of looking at a world where it seems that those with power do not have your best interests or your continued existence at heart, and where it looks like God isn’t doing anything, and makes the claim that God knows exactly what He is doing. Sure, Truth isn’t on the throne, but she is both protected and – despite the outward appearance of powerlessness, exile and defeat – in the position of real power. And that is far more comforting than any platitudes about which way the moral arc of the universe bends or whiggish theories of inevitable moral progress because it doesn’t rely on faith in people and in society – who, may I remind you, are the ones who got us into this mess in the first place – but on a faith in a God who is good and steadfast.

It also doesn’t brush over the fact that sometimes Wrong gets the short-term victories, and that really sucks for everyone involved. Sure, Truth gets a squad of angelic bodyguards, but a ‘death-grapple in the darkness’ necessarily involves injury or death. It’s not a comfort of everything being alright for you now; it’s a comfort of knowing which side wins in the end.

I gather that callbacks are an important part of structuring essays, so here’s one; remember earlier, when I said that my phone ran out of battery ‘the other day’? Well, the other day in question was in fact the thirty-first of October. Although I didn’t see anyone doing it, I’m sure someone somewhere dressed up as the creature from Frankenstein – although as we all know, university dropout Victor Frankenstein was the real monster.

Recently, I’ve been seeing a clip from a song called ‘creature’ (wow this is such a good segue) by a band called half alive on TikTok (yep, I’m down with the kids like that /s). Here’s a bit of the lyrics: I know I'm made of clay that's worn Blighted by imperfect form But I will trust the artist moulding me I am creation, both haunted and holy Made in glory Even the depths of the night cannot blind me When You guide me Creature only

See? It’s even got a bit about being guided through darkness, so I can pretend this post has some kind of thematic coherency.

Not too long ago I was talking to someone about what a theology of the body might look like – how faith should impact our views of our bodies – and I think this really articulates my instinctive reaction to that question. The body is both ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’ (Ps 139:14), and ‘this body of death’ (Rom 7:24), both ‘dust’ (Ps 103:14) and destined to ‘clothe itself with the imperishable’ (1 Cor 15:53)- both haunted and holy, broken and being made new. Inasmuch as it is beautiful, it inherits that beauty from being a shadow of better things long since lost and better things yet to come.

So when the body betrays us, does things that we never wanted nor asked for – well, what were we expecting? Things go awry, down here in the dark, and our efforts cannot perfectly fix them – although they can come very close indeed. How fortunate that they will be put right ‘in the twinkling of an eye’ (1 Cor 15:53) when dawn breaks.

Anyway, now I need to think of a conclusion to this weird ramble. Maybe something like “In conclusion, the light that shines in the darkness is beautiful and wonderful, but it would not do to forget that the darkness is as yet still there; though it is a balm for all ills, it is not necessarily the balm we would have asked for or expected.”

Yeah, that’ll do.

#theology #christianity #faith #trans #transphobia #apparently I'm meant to tag things so people who don't want to see them won't and I hope I've done that correctly #also I hope I put the keep reading thing in correctly #also also I apparently might want a tag for things I've written as opposed to reblogged?#mine

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dearamericaroyaldiaries · 3 years

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Get In Losers. We’re Going Witch Hunting

I Walk in Dread- 1691(-1692), Deliverance Trembly

By Lisa Rowe Fraustino

Don’t judge the picture. Google had no images that I felt comfortable using license wise so I took a (bad) picture of my copy.

Age of Protagonist: 12

#ReadingThoughts

-Before I even start I am digging the Puritan names. First Remember Patience and now Deliverance (and I would come to find ANOTHER MEM!!).

-My edition looses points or not having a ribbon even though it’s hardcover. This negatively impacts my reading experience for Reasons.

-Hold it. Is her uncles’ name really Razor Strap? I know Puritans were big on using random phrases from the Bible for their naming, but is that really a phrase in the Bible? Also, Sister Mem had me confused it was Mem from the last book for a hot second.

-SO do Mem and Deliverance just live with their uncle? Just the three of them? (The answer I quickly found was yes.)

-I appreciate the lesson on town politics. That's important for the Salem area in 1692ish.

-I am confused by what’s happening with the year. Why is it Dec 31, 1691, then Jan. 1, 1691, and then Jan. 2, 1691/2. There is a bullshit explanation in the about the author section. If you’re worried about Accuracy when it comes to the Julian vs Gregorian calendar, put something in the text. You’re average grade schooler isn’t going to jump to that . If I remember correctly, there’s something about the Gregorian calendar differing from the Julian calendar in the Anastasia book that is handled better. Liv explains other things to the reader, why not this?

-Why is a 12 year old more responsible than a 17 year old? Especially in 1692. Mem should at least have a higher opinion of herself in the family hierarchy and be preparing to keep her own house as a wife.

-Again, I feel Mem should be more mature than Liv.

-Liv can use her sister’s boy-craziness to her advantage. Mem is willing to shovel shit if there are attractive members of the opposite sex in the vicinity.

-Allergies=Witchcraft. That explains so much about me and my life. Though I suppose it makes sense from a 17th century Puritan POV.

-Mem wants to be a stepmom to 9 kids all of whom are most likely closer to her age than she would be to the potential husband? The last part might not be a big concern in the time period but good gracious that’s too many kids for my liking.

-Age update- some of the kids would be older than her or her age.

-I feel the average target reader would need an explanation of what “God’s Elect” means. Most 12 year olds don’t have a strong grasp on post-Reformation Protestant Theology.

-Poor Liv. She wants to fit un but is failing spectacularly.

-Is Liv going to be among the accused? She’s not on the best of terms with the accusers and has been or will be associated with at least three people who were accused and killed.

- They used the strong trick for loose teeth in the 17th century? I have no evidence or data to argue one side or the other but I am suspicious. Somewhat amused, but suspicious.

-I find the tithing man hilarious. I want a stick with a fuzzy rabbit foot on one end and a knob for whacking people on the other. Also, he deserved getting thumped back by the one guy,

-I am calling bullshit on Goody Corey sniffing out only girl scent. Either it’s a bit or she’s a witch, not her husband. (Spoilers: He’s accused and refuses to confess so the town can’t take his land and is pressed to death while trying to get a confession. Post reading note: I totally forgot/didn’t know that Goody Corey was also accused and killed.)

-I don’t know really anything about the real Goody Corey, but she seems like a stand-in for an enlightened modern person, above the provincial notions of witchcraft and the commonplace racism toward Amer Indians. I’m not saying everyone thought they were the devil, but a majority thought that they were superior to the indigenous peoples of the American colonies.

-Mr. Cooper’s letter is too vague! We need deets!

-Because this is told through Livs’ eyes everyone asking about their uncle and checking in on them comes off as invasive and nosy but as an adult, a twelve year old and a seventeen year old have been left on a farm by themselves for almost two months at this point is an issue. Is he ever coming back?

-WHAT!? Goody Corey has a bi-racial son born when she was estranged from her first husband? Prepare for a wikipedia tangent because I had to a a google to corroborate this. Wikepedia backs this up but what it doesn’t back up is the timeline. I read her as in her 40s or 50s in the book. According to wikepedia (don’t judge me, it’s good for basic facts and a starting point) she was 72ish in 1692 and this biracial son was her first child who would have been 50ish at this point and was born before Martha Corey was ever married. *End Tangent* Good for her though if she did indeed five her husband an earful after Liv left.

-Hold on. Mr. Cooper wants to talk to Uncle Razor Strap about Mem marrying Darcy, not him. Mem is gonna be devastated.

-Would electricity have been a concept a) known in 1692 and b) be well enough known that a random 12 year old in the colonies with little formal schooling would be comfortable enough using the phrase “electrical lightning.” No, I will not be googling this. Googling historical facts is one thing, googling sciencey things is another thing entirely,

-Did the girls hear the stories and then claim to have witnessed ZYX or did they independently corroborate the stories? One is much less suspect than the other.

-At this point I wonder will we ever meet Uncle Razor Strap? Is he dead? Is he trying to get back to Salem? Is he abandoning them?

-I feel the leap to “Am I a witch?” after having a weird dream about nursing a baby Sarah Goode is sensible as someone who has been about to call the Vatican several times when their period was late. In those cases clearly the only explanation was pregnancy, even when physically impossible just as being a witch is Livs’ conclusion here.

-Hopefully the girls can just get out of the Salem area soon and the landlord giving them to the end of the month is a neat enough excuse.

-So Mem thinks that Goody Corey is a witch but is okay with Liv going over there?

-How scary it would be to worry that the one family member you have in the area, who should be protecting you because you’re 12, might accuse you of witchcraft.

-I am delighted the the horse can act as a chaperone. Really? Okay.

-How does the horse give permission to whisk a fainted person into the house? It’s a horse.

-So now Mem is forcing Liv to read her diary to her. Rude.

Thoughts on the Afterward

Meh. Mem marries Darcy but dies young so Liv gets her man. They return to Salem. They don’t go West like they talked about. Liv has a gagillion great grands. No one ever fount her journal. Meh. I’m happy she was happy and all but meh.

Overall Thoughts After Reading

It took almost 200 pages to get through four months. I think I just don’t care for the author. I should have liked this book. It ticks multiple boxes that should be my jam but something about it just... is a no for me. Maybe it’s because I have zero nostalgia for this book. It took me about 4.5 months to get through this book and finding it boring is one of them. No one seems like a well rounded character who has any growth. Last book Mem had a whole arc where she came to terms with losing her mother but this time Liv didn’t really seem to change or grow.

I had high hopes. This book came out right as I was aging out of Dear America but I remember the hype around it on the Scholastic website. (Yes I was a wee nerd who hung out on the Scholastic website.) Sadly I was disappointed.

Also, we nope out of the actual trials. The first trial wasn’t held until JUNE. The book ends on April 30. Yes, we get to see the initial hysteria and flurry of accusations and arrests, but this was just the beginning. This seems like a cop-out.

Rating: 3/10 Sisterly Cat-Fights

Other contenders included False Accusations (this one seemed unfair because while I believe no one who was accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Hysteria was actually practicing witchcraft, I can’t say with confidence that the accusers were all lying. They may have believed honestly that they were afflicted by witches so calling them false accusations seem disingenuous.) and Bible Verses because Puritans. In the end, I had to honor the brutal way Mem and Live went after each other. Apparently in addition to being sickly, Mem was also small because how else could a 12 year old take her 17 year old sister like that.

#Dear America #Read with me #Puritans #History #Historical #Deliverance Trembly #Salem Witch Hysteria #Salem Witch Trials #I get minorly sweary again. At this point just accept it.

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Is Loki a good person?

Hello nonny! For all intents and purposes, I would say, yes, Loki is a good person. As you can read in this post by @lokistan, Loki has done a number of selfless things. I’ve put some of my thoughts in my reblog of that post, too, if you want to check it out.

Really, what I think it all boils down to, is Loki is a good person who has done some questionable and (depending on how you frame it) bad things. Namely, I’d say his attempted genocide of the Jötunn is arguably the worst thing he’s done. And beside the very idea of it being wrong, I would say this is the worst because it is when he had the most control of his will.

Now, notre i said the “most” control, not full. Sure, it could be seen as full, but that gets into a bit more of a gray area. What is full control of the will? I have never taken an ethics class, but we are covering morals in my theology class (the topic is called “moral theology” however, so this is largely subjective as it is based on religion. Then again, I think it could be argued all moral philosophy is somewhat subjective, but I digress). My point in bringing this up is that, according to this class, full intent of the will is affected by things like peer pressure. In other words, if you feel pressure to do something because everyone else around you is, and you want to fit in, that is not full intent of the will.

Now, let’s look at Asgard. Based on what we’ve seen, Asgard is first and foremost a warrior society. The kingdom was built on bloodshed and violence. Not to mention prejudice, especially against frost giants. From a young age, Thor was saying he wanted to destroy all Jötunns. Heck, when he goes to Jötunheim, Thor invites his father to help him finish off the frost giants. Odin declines and they go back to Asgard where he promptly gives his son a scolding, banishing Thor to Midgard. It’s only on Midgard, after being given a whole movie, that Thor changes his tune.

So what about Loki?

What I personally have pinpointed as his worst action happened in the first movie he appeared in, one of the ones where he was admittedly acting as a villain or an antagonist. (Again, I say “acting as” because a character opposing a hero or protagonist doesn’t immediately make everything black and white to be able to go “oh, then they’re a bad person.”) This action, the attempted genocide of the frost giants—which he actually is, by the way, but that’s opening a whole other can of worms—can be seen as a decision prompted by outside influences, such as culture and family. Before this, he’s never done anything undoubtedly evil. Perhaps one or two things that are questionable, but upon closer inspection, I would say not bad/his fault. And after? His will and mind are not his own in Avengers 1, and how can you (fully) fault someone for doing something they didn’t have control over? Then from TDW through IW he doesn’t doing anything bad. Maybe it’s a little frustrating he took the Tesseract, prompting the battle with Thanos (again, a whole other can of worms. Besides, Thanos probably would have attacked them anyway if he came across the ship). In Endgame, he only appears as 2012 Loki, the one from Avengers. He’s free of the mind control at this point, but is escaping imprisonment from something he didn’t have control over really a bad or evil thing? Again, I’d say no.

So, to conclude, Loki has done at least a few morally questionable things in his life, just like anyone would. The attempted genocide of the frost giants, which is what I consider the worst things he’s done, was heavily influenced by the environment he was raised in and prejudice he was exposed to. Thor threatened the same thing, but we cannot have a double standard just because he did not get as close to the actual action. Thor was given the chance to redeem himself, and is now viewed as a good guy. Loki, just like his brother, showed that he was better than that one action, and for the sake of the argument and lack of better words, redeemed himself. It only stands to reason that he is a good guy too.

#so this heavily focuses on just the one action #and if anyone wants to ask about other specific actions please feel free #but yea he’s a good person #if anyone has any relevant screencaps of the things i've mentioned #please send them my way #i am very bad at finding them #thanks for the ask!#anon ask #anon #ask #loki analysis #mcu loki #marvel loki #and ok yea this is only about mcu loki #comic loki is an entirely different story that I could not speak nearly as well on

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years

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God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XII

Eve arrived at school at exactly seven in the morning, a whole hour before class was supposed to start. She had gotten there in record time too, legs sore with how eager she was to leave the house.

You see, Eve had miscalculated her father’s arrival.

Severely.

Rather than arriving as she had slept, he walked through the door just in time for breakfast. Shirt crumpled, hair ruffled, a sated look in his brown eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. They were too tired for that. Yes, long gone was the happy couple trying to make it all work. In their place, the shell of who they once were, wilting husks with only overwhelming sadness and a want for temporary pleasure filling it.

Breakfast was somehow worse than dinner. Far from suffocating, she felt as if she were choking despite how well she chewed her serving of eggs. The dining room, already nowhere near welcoming before, seemed to taint everything in it, the sour mood permeating it seeping into her orange juice, making it taste as if it had gone bad weeks ago. (It hadn’t, though. She even helped her mother load groceries into the refrigerator. The juice had been there for no more than two days.)

Eve sat on that on a wooden courtyard bench, the very same one she sat on just eleven days ago, legs sore from how fast she pedaled, aching almost as much as she ached to get out of that horrid hou-

“Shut up.” Her mind echoed. It was painful, how hard she hard to try to stop herself from saying things she shouldn’t, from doing things she shouldn’t. “You should be grateful you even have a family. You know how people here feel about broken homes and single moms…”

“Eve!” Elizabeth came up from behind her, slender arms wrapping around her in a hug. She was in a good mood, giggling behind her manicured hands, cheeks tinted the signature pink of love – or simply infatuation. It was hard to tell, really, if your friend truly loved a man when you yourself were incapable of such things, try as she might, no matter how hard she forced herself to.

Nothing came of it. Nothing would ever come of it.

“So, I’m assuming you had a fun night?”

Just because Eve didn’t understand what was so thrilling about kissing boys and all that came after it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to Elizabeth’s excited ramblings of it. She knew what was expected of her. One day, hopefully not one day soon, she would find a boy she could tolerate, a decent one she would at least come to love as a friend; she would marry him and lie with him, as a good wife does and bear his children.

And she would tolerate it.

Just because she was like Lilith, didn’t mean she had to act like her, didn’t mean she had to act on what she felt for her.

“Not just a night!” Elizabeth’s dark eyes twinkled, gesturing wildly and almost obscenely with her hands. “I was with him every night during the weekend and Monday night. I got Mary to vouch for me so we could go out.”

“Out?”

The brunette nodded, clearly deliberate in stating that they went out in order to say: “He just got his driver’s license so we went out on his motorcycle to celebrate!”

“Motorcycle?” Eve perked up, pleasantly surprised her friend wasn’t here to brag about her sex life and the fact that Zachariah could drive. (Really, the last thing she needed was a detailed description of a blowjob, especially considering that her breakfast wasn’t sitting right with her, though that may just be her lingering dread speaking.)

“Yup! Since he’ll be on a scholarship for college next year, he convinced his parents to let him use the money they set aside for it to buy a bike.”

She went on about the boy and the places he’d taken her, a genuine joy in her every motion, in her every word, excitement clear to all who would lay eyes on her.

Oh, Eve could feel her happiness, potent, so close yet completely unattainable to the likes of her. That wasn’t a new realization, not by any means, no, but God, it was different this time; a bitter bile rising in her, leaving the taste of acid and envy and a sorrow not unlike that of resignment, of loss.

But between Elizabeth’s giggles and how nice the boy seemed to be, the taste would soon fade into a sweet sugar cookie sort of fondness.

Only a hint of that resignment remained, a tangy, rotten after taste.

...

Unlike the first day of their newly implemented schedule, today was not so tense.

Rather, the two girls sat next to each other, not even a ruler’s length apart, not tense but tenuous both of them lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions either too scary to name or too muddled to be sure of, everything mixing and melding and melting like a soup with a certain ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

The memory of yesterday was burned into their minds, playing again and again on an endless loop for reasons they dare not say, the same words spoken and heard from slightly different perspectives with slightly different thoughts accompanying it.

For Lilith, yesterday was a sign of hope for Eve. She was willing to disobey, allowing herself the occasional indulgence with a bit of coaxing. All Eve needed was a nudge, a gentle push in the right direction. The redhead could imagine it quite vividly, the girl standing before her mother, letting lies slip from her lips, pretending to have been forced into a place of opposition she so evidently wanted to be in. Eve hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that her mother was the only thing keeping her from the club, either too tired to make up an excuse or just feeling comfortable enough to open up about it to her.

For Eve, yesterday was the end of playing dumb, the end of turning a blind eye to her own desires and the undeniable humanity of people… like Lilith. She could hardly believe all that had happened despite it being so clear in her head. Between what see had seen in the locker room and what had happened over lunch and the things she’d willingly done during club time… it was all too much.

Yesterday was the end of life as she knew it. Or rather, it was the beginning of the end.

After all, progress took time and it was by no means linear. Especially not during matters of this nature.

“So what did your mom say?” Lilith said. She was trying to separate what she felt for that woman from her voice, and she was doing well, disdain for her considered. Really, fussing over every little detail of her daughter was one thing but the fact that the concern she displayed was not for said daughter but for her future husband was something she couldn’t forgive. Still, she kept her language plain and her tone neutral. Most people didn’t take kindly to other’s insulting their mothers.

“Oh, I haven’t told her.” The way Eve’s voice trembled when she said that “oh” sent arrows through her heart, the dread palpable and utterly unnerving. “She hasn’t asked yet and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up so I’ll just wait for her to say something. Maybe she’s assuming I joined the book club again?”

A lie by omission was better than an outright one but it was a lie nonetheless and the guilt of it didn’t do much to ease the girl’s tension, though the fact that she would be able to avoid that conversation for a while longer did.

“Speaking of books,” Lilith coughed, deciding to change the topic before Eve withdrew into her mind “what did you guys do in that club? Just read all day and discuss books? Is there even anything good in that library?”

“Well, most of it is theology and reference books, yeah, but those can be good! There are a few volumes of Sherlock Holmes near the history section! It’s not a complete collection at all but definitely better than nothing.”

She could already feel the dopey grin making it’s way onto her face. In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Lilith would be hard pressed to find a time Eve had been this happy about anything. Unbridled joy was a good look on everyone. The gleam in their eyes that only came from a genuine liking for something, the way they’d gesticulate, unable to contain all their passion.

Granted, Eve didn’t gesture so much as flap her hands about, but while joy looked good on everyone, it also looked different in everyone and Lilith found this eccentricity of hers adorable to no small degree.

“They have Phantom of the Opera tucked away somewhere near this compilation of Edgar Allan Poe I’ve been able to read a few times. A bit macabre but still good! Oh, you know they have books on gardening, too! I can show you next time we go and you can check out one or two if you want! The ones on herbs was fun but I think you’ll find the one on flower language an interesting read. It’s not exactly about gardening, but still. Did you know that the way you tied a bouquet could completely change the meaning of all the flowers you were trying to send?”

She spoke in a mix of short, rapid-fire sentences and long-winded rants, switching with no real pattern, rambling and occasionally straying to go on a tangent about a specific book or mention something about gardening, none of which Lilith understood, being unable to name any flowers by appearance other than rose, daisy, and sunflower, though she listened eagerly nonetheless.

“But back to books! Near the back, just by the cookbook – oh, and um, don’t tell anyone but –” Eve scooted her wooden chair across the wooden floor, mindlessly brushing Lilith’s hair back, placing her lip just two centimeters scant of her ear. “There are books hidden there, by older girls, I think. Ones that graduated a really long time ago.”

Eve’s ivory-like hands cupped the small space around Lilith’s ear, shielding their words from any listening ears, anything that happened behind her hands hidden from prying eyes. In the midst of her whispering, she realized she could kiss Lilith; a gentle peck on the shell of her ear. No one needed to know. Just a quick press of the lips, it wouldn’t take longer than a second… or two.

And though she ignored the impulse, the thought lingered.

“Love poems and romance novels. I’m pretty sure they wrote it all themselves. Two of them are just a bunch of papers with holes punched in the side tied together by string, no cover. Technically more manuscript than book but you know what I mean. The others are leather bound journals, hand-written.”

“No kidding?” The other asked, hushed, nothing anyone further than Eve would catch. She didn’t dare say it louder, both unwilling to let anyone eavesdrop on them and scared that the excessive movement of her jaw would lead Eve farther from her.

“Nope, they’re there.” She pulled away from the girl’s ear but didn’t bother to move her seat back to where it was, their legs pressed together beneath the table they shared. “I haven’t been able to read much of any of them cause I’m scared I’ll get too absorbed to notice anyone walking past but their poems are really good! I can show you sometime, along with the gardening books.”

“We can go there later, during lunch. I’ll keep watch for while you read.”

The offer turned the girl’s waning grin into a megawatt smile, dimpled and rosy cheeked, she looked like a Raphaelite painting, a masterpiece.

“Really?”

“Sure! I’m always up for a bit of casual disobedience.” She replied with a wink and a deep chuckle, using amusement as a cover for endearment.

“Holy cow, thank you so much! But I’m pretty sure we’re not actually breaking any rules, I–”

Smack!

“Everyone bring out your composition notebook! We’re going to use the rest of homeroom to learn how to read sheet music before proceeding to the music room so if you want to fool around on the piano you’d best master this quickly.”

With that, Eve jerked away from Lilith, bringing her chair along with her and causing a loud, grating noise to make it’s way through the now silent room, every head whipping around to face them, the eyes now bearing into them, mostly shocked, some irritated, with one judgmental look from the front, from Sister Bernadette.

“No movement of chairs unless otherwise stated!”

“But-”

“Put the seat back where it was immediately or get detention!”

Lilith then pulled the girl down into her seat, cutting off another protest and brought the seat back to where it was before the nun entered, effectively ridding all the space between them.

Only when the woman turned to face the blackboard did she whisper to Eve: “Don’t argue, even if they’re wrong. They’ll just call it disrespectful and send you to the principal’s.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to getting yelled at here so I wasn’t sure about– I didn’t know what to do. Sorry, again…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She gave the blonde a teasing jab along with a soft smile, looking at the girl only from the corner of her sky blue eye so as not to invoke the further ire of the clearly on-edge teacher. “’Sides, the jokes on them. They’re still wrong and we get to stay like this. That’s a win-win if I’ve ever seen one, yeah?”

Eve huffed, a small laugh, in part a sort of thanks for the given consolation, in part a sort of reassurance to the other that she’d be okay, that she’d bounce back.

“Yeah.”

In the end, they weren’t able to go to the music room.

...

The hours passed, only a few words passing between the girls every so often, most of it questions related to the work they were assigned. They were careful, Eve unwilling to anger any other authority figures, Lilith trying to fly under the radar, admittedly rather afraid of being called into Mother Cecilia’s office over even trivial matters, knowing it would lead to yet another interrogation regarding the fire.

But finally, the lunch bell rang, granting them freedom and the ability to be enthusiastic without repercussion. (As long as they weren’t too noisy, of course.) All the anticipation and excitement led to Eve shooting out of her chair and practically sprinting to the library, books shoved haphazardly into her book bag as Lilith followed not too far behind her, pleasantly surprised at her actions, though with more emphasis on the pleasant and not so much on the surprised.

“It’s right this way,” The blonde said, not bothering to drop her bag down in her usual seat as they ventured deeper into the library.

Eventually, they reached the deepest, mustiest park of the library, all the shelves covered in a thin sheen of dust save for a single row level with their knees. The sun streaming in from the arching windows only served to accentuate how unkempt the place was, illuminating the dust particles that flew into the air when Eve took to her knees to retrieve the books she spoke so eagerly about.

“The last time I’ve been able to peek at them was a few weeks before summer, so sorry for the dust. You’re not asthmatic, right?” She pulled out a few of the recipe books, setting them aside before reaching in deeper to grab a stack of papers, bound with string, it’s outer most page containing nothing more than a title and a name. Sticking her arm in a bit more, she pulled out two leather journals, putting them down atop the manuscript before taking a few more cookbooks from the shelf and grabbing the last journal along with manuscript type book.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Lilith crouched down next to her, looking at the stack Eve made. The paper ones were practically identical save for a difference in thickness while the leather-bound books varied in colour, one the usual coffee brown, the other a matte black, and the last one a fine, wine-red.

“So, how’d you find all this anyway?” The redhead asked, taking the brown book from the stack, flicking through a random page and instantly regretting it as a cloud of dust came from it, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit, Eve rushing to her and patting her back as her lungs tried to expel themselves through her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not asthmatic?”

“Eve, I’m not sure how to break it to you, but anyone that gets hit with a face-full of dust is gonna cough a bit. I’ll live.”

“Good point.” She reached over to her bag and took a tumbler from it. “Water?”

Lilith’s fingers brushed against Eve’s as the dark green bottle switched hands, reminiscent of the brief touch they shared the first time they met, on that fateful, windy day in the courtyard.

“Thanks.”

There were a handful of things she expected to happen today, things she prepared an appropriate response for. Watching Lilith gulp down water like a dying man, seeing her throat work with every sip, eyes following the stray drops that rolled down her chin and her neck, making it’s way to the opening of her shirt before finally stopping, absorbed by the fabric that now clung to parts of her chest, was evidently not one of those things.

“T-thanks to you, too… Lilith.”

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“If you wanted to start with this book, you could’ve just said so.”

Lilith passed the book she was holding to her, instead grabbing the red one and holding it out an arm’s length away and flapping it about, effectively getting most of the dust out.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, content to exist in the same space, unburdened by the unspoken as they read. Sock-clad legs parallel to each other, pressed flush against the flesh, they looked so similar to how they did yesterday, this morning.

Lighter, though. Somehow.

Perhaps it was the lack of looming dread, the weight of anxiety gone from Eve’s mind, for now at least. Perhaps it was the lack of fear, Lilith’s worry for Eve gone, again, if only for now.

...

As Eve went on, she became enamored by the prose, the delicate descriptions crafted from simple every day life and feelings, invested by the admittedly somewhat familiar protagonist, Nina, and her best friend, Rosalie, or as Nina would so fondly call her, Rosie.

Bit by bit, though, things were changing between them. Or maybe they haven’t changed at all and she was just blind to it. Either way though, things became different, odd, queer.

“I carded my hands through her soft, black hair just like I had so many times before. “Will you braid it for me?” She asked, lifting her head from off my lap, resting on her elbows. Not quite lying down, not quite sitting up.”

She couldn’t help but think that the first sentence implied something.

“Rosalie would get her blazer dirty, stomach pressed into the grass as she traced patterns on my lap, the fabric of my skirt shifting, spiraling. “Of course,” I couldn’t say no if I wanted to, but why would I even consider refusing her?”

The way Nina spoke about Rosalie, the way Rosalie spoke to her in turn, the affection they showed to each other, the way she would describe Rosalie in text was akin to that of love… romantic love.

Eve brushed the thoughts aside though, knowing she was probably just projecting her own perversions on the perfectly normal, heterosexual girls.

“We sat there and spoke of the future, a house deep in the woods, an aged, fat cat. Preferably a tabby. I plucked flowers, giving them a new home with her as I wove it into the braid. Call me sacrilegious but she looked like a God, of-the-earth, of me. She was my God. I’d get in trouble if I ever said that out loud. But then again, I’d get in trouble for practically everything I did with Rosie”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just Eve.

“After finishing the braid, I took a compact mirror from my pocket. “What do you think?” She giggled, deep, brown eyes looking around at the empty field before shimmying over to me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” She moved once more, settling on my lap, lips trailing across my forehead, my eye, my nose, my cheek. Tease. At long last, though, her lips met mine, pressing against me with a soft passion-”

She dropped the book, hands by her head as a sort of surrender to whatever god may be watching her, judging her, face flushed, chest heaving.

Lilith looked up from her book. “You okay?”

She read that. She enjoyed that.

That knowledge was the straw that broke the camel’s still recovering back.

The guilt from yesterday and everyday before that built up in her lungs, drowning her, hastening her hellish damnation. Her thoughts were consumed by apologies and prayers and pleas for a mercy she wasn’t deserving of.

Tears fell from her face like angels from the sky, a testament to her sins, her guilt.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Suffocating, stifling, sinful guilt.

Crashing down on her as if she was being smitten, painful and shameful and rightful guilt.

She sobbed and shook, hands over her mouth to stop herself from wailing her anguish, her agony, her guilt.

But a pair hands weren’t enough to contain everything in her and all that spilled out. Nothing was.

Whimpers escaped through the gaps of her fingers, Lilith forgetting her shock and rushing over to comfort her.

It only made her cry harder. Lilith’s touch burned.

Eve clung to her though, rising to her knees, hands clutching at Lilith’s shirt.

It was yesterday all over again.

It was worse.

She couldn’t deny what she was anymore. Every passing second made it harder to craft lies and alibis and that would be a sin too and she’d go to hell regardless.

Burying her face in the crook of Lilith’s neck in a futile attempt to silence herself, Eve could smell the sweet, apple cinnamon perfume the girl had sprayed on earlier.

The way the scent made her face flush, even with everything going on and everything she was feeling was sick.

It twisted her stomach.

She felt disgusting, sinful, wrong, guilty.

But as she sobbed and shuddered and breathed the scent in…

It twisted her stomach.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

...

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Eve.” She whispered, soft, the words meant for one person and one person only.

Lilith wasn’t a naturally soothing person. Never in her life did she have to console someone in such a way, her friends all preferring to be distracted from their sorrows by quips and jokes. This was different, though. Eve was different.

Eve made her soft and kind to a degree she could hardly fathom. Gone was her icy exterior and harsh features, traded in for a comforting smile and gentle hands.

The girl sobbed and prayed into her shoulder, unable to hear her over muttered prayers and the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic thump in her heaving chest.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would look like Eve was the one doing the comforting, seeming to pray over Lilith in a manner akin to that to someone being exorcised, a two-person prayer circle.

“Eve,” She whispered, gently trying to pry the girl away from her so she could talk, immediately stopping when the blonde only cried harder at the gesture. “I’m gonna need you to take deep breaths, Eve. Can you do that for me, please?”

The girl hiccupped, body wracked by sobs though clearly trying to follow.

“That’s right, just like that.”

Lilith’s spindly hands made her way up and down Eve’s back in tranquil motions.

“Wanna tell me what’s making you cry? I won’t tell anyone not even Paula and Joan.”

Eve shook her head, not even lifting her head from the crook of Lilith’s neck, her tip of her nose drawing a line from where her neck sloped down to her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea-ah…”

Breathing still ragged, eyes still red-rimmed, cheeks still tear-stained, she pulled away from Lilith, sniveling.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying-”

She cut the blonde off, though. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But please don’t lie to me. You know why you’re crying. I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but you know.”

“Okay.” Eve whispered, a sort of willing surrender.

It was evident to Lilith that she wanted to talk. Shame held her back, unfortunate and burdensome. She didn’t speak, instead picking up the book from where it fell, opening to the page she had last read, finger tapping the paragraph before sliding the book across the small gap between them.

She skimmed over the paragraph and a few thereafter, finding nothing of note until she finally saw what Eve meant.

“This is what you were crying over?”

All she got in response was a nod, the girl looking to be on the brink of tears again.

“Why?”

Eve shook her head again. Her lip trembled, jutting out like a child trying their best not to cry.

“If I guess right will you tell me?”

Nothing.

“Want me to stop?”

Again, there was no reply.

“Can you tell me what you want me to do?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Nothing else.

“Do you know what you want me to do?”

She shook her head no, a few tears going with it. The only thing that left her mouth was a shaky sigh as she carded her hands through her hair. Tired. Eve looked tired. She was all that and more.

Lilith looked away from her, the pity she felt too much. There was nothing she could do. If only for a moment, she felt the degree of helplessness Eve felt, knowing she couldn’t help. It wasn’t foreign to her, helplessness. It was like seeing an old friend.

She could never bring herself to be angry or even annoyed at what was happening to Eve. Not when it’s happened to her, to Paula, to Joan, to Julia, to Colette.

Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality as Eve dragged her closer, making her face away as the girl hugged her from behind.

Eve cried into her. It wasn’t the way she cried mere minutes ago, however. It was calmer, no hiccups or shaking. Only tears streaming down the girl’s face and soaking into Lilith’s shirt with a sniffle every once and a while.

Time passed and Lilith grew bolder, hand wandering to where Eve’s were wrapped around her stomach. Her touch was tentative, Eve’s hand treated like a fine porcelain piece.

“Is this okay?”

“No.” She said.

But she didn’t push Lilith’s away, instead opting to hold it, their fingers weaving together, slotting together as if their very flesh and bone were sculpted to be together, to intertwine, to love.

How cruel of God to craft two people for each other the turn to create a world were they were not to be.

“None of this is okay.”

______________________

Taglist: @anomiewrites @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

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cuinnamonbun · 4 years

Text

I’m so sorry this took so long! I’ve been so swamped with my work and figuring out how each individual brother would react in the situation :( A bit of warning though, I’m still not quite familiar with Belphie’s character, I had to work with what little I knew of him by reading through every Belphie stan rant about him, the text messages/phone calls that we get from him and the Obey Me wikia page so I’m really sorry if I destroyed his character here >.< !!! But all of that aside, I hope that this is still enjoyable and readable to all of you :)

And of course, a massive thank you to @dawndustleo for the request!!

Big brothers’ reactions here!

Part 2 of How the Brothers React to Accidentally Falling in Love with a Devout Muslim MC (Little Brothers)

Satan

Ah, yes. Our resident academic

Satan did not like our cute lil MC when he first met them (and they him) and these two were wary of each other

Honestly, the only reason these two would even become friends in the first place is because of MC tbh

I doubt Satan would approach them willingly in the hopes of making friends. At most, he would only converse with them to add to his impressive list of connections or for his own personal gain (cough making Lucifer miserable cough)

The more he spends time with them though, Satan slowly unravels the layers that make MC the person that they are and he’d be shocked at the depth of character they present since he usually just thinks all religious people are numbskulls and mindless sheep anyway

But MC managed to surprise him by demonstrating a wisdom to them that he has yet to associate with any human. Sure, it may not be as profound as Kant’s or Nietzsche, but any questions regarding theology or morality that Satan would throw at them for fun (with the sadistic intent of watching them blunder in their answer) MC managed to answer it as honest as they could

To him, most people are predictable

Where most people would reply with a simple “i dunno”, MC did not and it was during these interrogations chatting sessions that Satan could truly admire the rawness of MC’s soul. Be it in the way they viewed the world or their thought process. Satan would be in complete awe of the world that they view through their lenses

Devout Muslims spend most of their life trying to live up to the example of their beloved Prophet Muhammad (may peace be unto him) and MC is no exception to this, their time in the Devildom would make it harder but they’d definitely hold on strong, especially with the angels there as well c:

So even if most of their answers would have something to do with God, the inherent longing and yearning in their voice would be enough to move even him

It’s this part of them that really started his infatuation with MC. They were so pure and virtuous that they were kind to even him, the sworn enemy of every believing Muslim in the world. They looked past his Wrath and understood him and his complexities that often, they would help Satan realise his own mysteries

Unlike the other brothers though, Satan was hyperconscious of MC’s choice in religion

So the second he realised he was in love with them, his sin consumes him and he would destroy anything within sight and cursing God’s name to, well, Hell

When he finally calms down, that’s when the heartache sets in for him ;(

Because even if MC reciprocates his feelings, their devotion to God would far, far outweigh their love for him and they would always choose Him over Satan

Asmodeus

Asmodeus’ idea of love had always been skewed since the minute he fell from Heaven

Maybe he did experience true love back when he was an angel, but that had been so long ago that he’d almost forgotten how it feels like

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmo’s love language is extremely physical. It doesn’t have to be inherently suggestive but even the more innocent touches like a simple hug or even hand holding could escalate into something risqué

It’s not like he intentionally sets it off too. It’s his sin!! He can’t help it if a friendly hug pitches a tent in his pants!!

Like Lucifer, Asmo would first pursue MC for less-than-pure gains

He revels in attention from anyone and anything, if that person shows the least bit of attention to him (especially sexually) he WILL feel genuinely offended, like he’s not good enough

And with MC’s piety and immunity from Asmo’s charm, he would absolutely see MC as nothing more than a goal, a forbidden fruit, or the highest win one can get in a lottery

He would amp up his seduction and sin to the max level that even his brothers had to leave the room because it was so overpowering it began to mess with their heads and I can see MC not being okay with that and this would upset them a lot

Lucifer will have to force Asmo to apologise to MC every time this happens (a lot) and though his apologies are sarcastic and obviously ingenuine, MC was always so forgiving and so kind, treating him more than just lust embodied. With their high resistance against his charms, Asmo knows that MC is genuine in their want to be his friend

And this would definitely cause his heart to palpitate and soar in happiness. Because for the first time, someone is interested in him, his person rather than his body, his looks or his status as one of the seven Demon Lords of the Devildom

The constant impure thoughts of what he wanted to do with MC once they finally fall under his charm slowly turned into wholesome ones, with him thinking of the best ways he can make them smile like that one time when he said something that was truly amusing to them

He still won’t realise this though because the change had been a slow and steady one. The only way he would realise that he is utterly besotted and head over heels for MC is when MC had accidentally tripped and fell into his arms...and he felt nothing. Well, other than genuine concern and worry of course

He would be so shocked by that fact and he would run to Satan to confirm what he already knew

When he finally comes to terms with it, he was ecstatic and a little nervous. It’s his first time loving someone other than himself and he was so, so excited to share this happy news to MC

Unfortunately, MC would be forced to turn him down as gently as they could, explaining the reasons why. I would imagine it would hurt for MC to do this because they would never ever want to cause him pain 🥺

Asmo would be so shocked. Because why in hell would you ever turn him down? Because he was so sure that MC reciprocated his feelings. They were always so kind to him, so warm and gentle. Had he misread the signs?

Asmo would give them a fake smile and assure them that it’s fine, that they were much better off as friends anyway even though MC didn’t look like they believed him

Asmo would act joyful as he usually did, but his brothers and MC knew that it was all an act, and while his brothers didn’t understand what’d happened (with the exception of Satan) it would absolutely crush them to see the most joyous of the brothers so dejected, even if he’d try his best to hide it

When MC left the Devildom, Lucifer will have to deal with the influxes of bills his little brother has accumulated from the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed trying to forget about them

Beelzebub

Unlike his older brothers, Beel fell in love with MC real quick

This demon is a big sweetheart and he treasures his family a lot, so I can definitely see him falling in love with a kind MC

Devout Muslim MC would always be on the lookout to help other people wherever they go and when they found Beel sad and hungry, they gave up their lunch for him

When they found out that Beel’s stomach is just practically a black hole, MC would take it upon themselves to learn how to cook all kinds of cuisines (if they couldn’t already) just so they could keep Beel fed and to make sure he doesn’t go around eating inedible stuff

“Beel! Don’t eat that, that is a plate. Come on honey, let me go prepare you a cheeseburger or a dozen, okay?”

Beel fell in love with them right then and there

With how his brothers have had to keep up with his everlasting hunger, they would definitely give up trying to feed him because one, it’s impossible to keep up with the Avatar of Gluttony’s appetite and two, they’re demons, they don’t do Good Samaritan deeds

In order to maintain their grades AND keep up with Beel’s black hole of a stomach, MC developed a little schedule that they taped above their desk and their bed, as well as digitalized a copy in their DDD to allocate their time wisely

When Beel found out about this, he paused. He paused, then gawked, then engulfed MC in a huge hug because no one has ever done anything like that for him and just knowing the extra lengths they went for him made his heart stutter

Mammon: What the hell, MC you made all of this for Beel?????

MC: You know what they say *putting a buffet of food in front of an awed Beel* The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach *pats Beel’s tummy with a smile*

Beel: *dying from blushing*

From that point on, he started following them like a lost puppy. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they constantly have little snacks on them for him but it was more so because he wanted their company

MC is patient with him and constantly smiles at him which drives his heart crazy and whenever he returns to his shared bedroom with Belphie, he always had this big dopey smile on him as he talked to Belphie about his day with MC and what they did and what MC wore and how cute they were looking at the different plush toys on display at the mall-

Belphie loves his twin but for the love of hell, please just let him sleep

But when Beel told him that he planned to confess to them, all traces of drowsiness would disappear from Belphie and he would have to explain to Beel on why that would be a bad idea

Of course Belphie would do so gently, but there was a heavy hint of urgency and worry in Belphie’s tone that Beel couldn’t ignore

That was the night Belphie would hold Beel while he cried himself to sleep :(

Despite knowing that they weren’t meant to be, Beel would still hang around them even if their mere presence would cause his heart to seize. It wasn’t their fault and Beel would never hold something like this against them. It just isn’t in his nature

Even if MC reciprocated his feelings, he would never pursue anything more with them despite his heart jumping for joy because he knew it would deeply hurt his MC in the long run

It was precisely because of his love for MC that he would let them go, even if it pained him to do so

When MC left the Devildom, Beel tried his best to continue living his life as it were before but sometimes, he felt as though he might just let his hunger and heartbreak take over him 💔

Belphegor

Being the Avatar of Sloth, Belphie is well aware of the recurring nightmares MC has had since he first killed them. But even without his status as the lord of sleep, one could notice. It was that obvious

MC suffered trauma because of him and Belphie will carry that guilt with him to the end of his days

The first few weeks, MC is notably wary of him; preferring to stick with Mammon or Lucifer during group activities, leaving the room whenever he was there and coming up with excuses to leave on the spot whenever he would sit next to them during meals

It brought him and his brothers terrible sadness to see their human change from a bright little thing to a meek little animal, trembling down to their knees. It reminded them of when MC first came to the Devildom; lost and fearful

But eventually MC would finally start interacting with Belphie; you know, a simple hello and no immediate fleeing whenever he wanders into a room. Baby steps, y’know? They would still cling to Lucifer or Mammon though

He would be so confused about it

Like, hello? I am your murderer?? Why are you trying to befriend me???

Like, this man really thought that they were going to spend the entirety of the exchange program just ignoring him. Not that he would blame them

But MC was so determined on moving past that and the least he could do was humour them

He would make sure that they were comfortable every time they interacted; which meant no sudden moves, no being an asshole to them, speaking politely to them and just giving them space in general

It won’t take long for MC to fully be comfortable around him again and trust him enough to form a pact with him

Now that MC is able to relax around him, MC and Belphie would be frequently hanging out with each other due in large part to Beelzebub who is just really, REALLY glad that his two favourite people finally like each other now 🥺🥺

In time, they would be able to trust each other enough to reveal the deepest parts of themselves to each other and the first time it happened, Belphie cried and MC...to his surprise, was not a stifling presence

They were silent as they listened to him speak, their attention rapt on him as he bared his soul to them and their presence was warm and comforting as he cried, with no judgment of any sort to be found

That was when he would truly start to fall in love with them and though he realised that MC would probably reject his advances if he were to pursue anything more with them, it didn’t stop him from trying at all

He found a good human not just for himself, but also for Beel and the rest of his brothers, he wasn’t going to let them go that easily

He finally understood why his little sister sacrificed all that she was to be with her human lover and he really thought that their circumstances were similar (spoiler alert it’s not)

His love for MC was absolutely genuine, which would make this all the more terrifying because he would truly believe that what he was doing was the best thing for them

Belphie is cunning and highly manipulative, he would most definitely attempt to skew MC’s devotion to God and attempt to convince her that the Devildom has much better things to offer than the Celestial Realm

He would try his absolute hardest to get them to stay with him in their realm

“Oh, speaking of God, back when I was an angel, did you know this one time He tried to...” “Do you have to pray now? You could always do it later, you know. I mean, He is Ar-Rahim, the Most Merciful right? He’ll understand”

Devout or not, he will break through their strong will and convince MC to leave their religious path all the while pretending to support them and their religious freedom

If MC reciprocated his feelings, he would be overjoyed because this makes it a HUNDRED times easier for him to persuade them to stay with him and be with him forever

And it’s true, with his silver tongue and patience, he could absolutely crumble MC’s devotion to God if MC’s not careful

If Belphie was unsuccessful with his attempts to keep them with him forever, he would be absolutely enraged by it

“They’re MINE! You stay away from them! I am so irrevocably in love them and I REFUSE to let Him have them!”

He would probably most definitely start a war with the Celestial Realm over this

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me #satan x mc obey me #asmo x mc obey me #beel x mc obey me #belphie x mc obey me #obey me x muslim!mc #muslim!mc #swd satan #swd asmodeus #swd beelzebub #swd belphegor

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 4 years

Text

Sunsets

“Redemption, my Love” Chapter 7 is not up yet.... My apologies. Enjoy this oneshot instead! Cursed Tv 2020 Cross posted to Ao3 here Lancewain Rated T for suggestive themes. FLUFF, so much Fluff and Flirting Modern College AU: Roommates ) my deepest apologies to anyone who read this pre proof read. I have edited it now. :) )

Lancelot and Gawain have been roommates for almost four years. The problem is they both like one another and neither is able to admit it. Until one night, one very domestic night, the teasing and flirting comes to a head, and all because Lancelot took a nap in an unlikely location. @lorenzoxfrancesco I hope this tides you over for a bit friend. :) Enjoy. Inspired by this post.

Gawain came home to the small apartment he shared with Lancelot. They had met in the first week of classes their freshman year and had shared several of their general courses since then, until this semester. For the last three years they have shared their living space, study habits, eating habits, and everyday life. They had cohabited the same space, with minimal disturbances despite being strangers when they moved in together. Certainly, they fought on occasion but it was never about anything to major, well except that one time, but they had sorted it rather quickly. Neither truly capable of staying angry at the other. It had been over a boy. More specifically about the lack of notice regarding a boy coming home with Gawain on game night, for purposes other than games.

Today Gawain is running a little bit later than normal. It isn’t a big deal, it is Lancelot’s night to cook, so if the man was hungry he would have cooked and left him some. Besides, not only had his last class gone long, but he had decided to pick up some of the groceries he knew they needed. Unlocking the door he steps into warm air and a dimly lit room. Toeing off his shoes he pads into the common space towards the kitchen, casually avoiding Lancelots work space and easel. The kitchen is empty, and the space does not smell of food. Lancelot had not cooked then. A quick glance at the stove clock tells him that it isn’t actually nearly as late as he believed it was. The winter weather was throwing off his internal clock again. It was just past sundown, and it felt much later than half past four in the evening. Setting the groceries on the counter he acknowledged none of them were perishable and could wait to be put away.

The absence of Lancelot is acute and he decides to check his room. It is unusual, especially on his night to cook, for him to be absent. He leaves the small kitchen and heads down the hall towards the rooms, and notes that his door is slightly ajar. He can’t remember if he left it that way or not, but it doesn’t particularly matter, if Lancelot had needed something he would have had the freedom to retrieve it. It was something that they had spoken about when they created their boundaries initially and adjusted them as they grew in their relationship. He ignores it and walks to the end of the hall and knocks gently on Lancelot's door. When he gets no answer he cautiously opens it, to find an empty room. Shrugging he returns to the kitchen and begins to put away the groceries from before. Then he will shower and make something for himself. It’s possible too, that Lancelot went out for ingredients or some such necessity.

When he opens his door what he sees causes him to stop short. The streetlight is casting the faintest orange glow through his window and onto his bed. And there, curled on his side is Lance in the fetal position, wearing his oversized sweater and purple skull covered socks, peacefully asleep. He smiles, it is the most adorable thing he has seen in a very long time. Lancelot's hair is down and unkept sprawling across his face and onto the blankets beneath him. Slowly he steps into the dark room, careful not to disturb his roommate. Hypercautiously he sits on the edge of the bed and thoughtfully brushes stray hair from Lancelot's face. He looks undisturbed and calm like this. Mouth slightly agape as he breathes in and out in a steady rhythm. The worry lines that come with final exams erased from his features under the sweet caress of sleep. His muscles relaxed and pliant as he shifts subtly closer to Gawain’s ghosting touch. He doesn’t know how long he sits there watching Lancelot, but he knows it is far longer than a friend perhaps should. Of course that comes as no surprise to him. He wishes they were more than friends, but neither had asked, and perhaps it was safer to remain in this domestic life they had than to fall into something labeled and full of expectations and preconceived notions.

Finally, he rises and moves towards his dresser for a change of clothing, he has no idea how much time has gone by, only that he still needs to shower and eat something before he makes another decision. Casting a final gaze on his sleeping friend he leaves the room, door slightly ajar and showers. He loses track of time again and finds himself dwelling on what it would be like to have Lance in his bed regularly. To be able to view him in such peace anytime he wanted, and not just through a snatched moment, that the other is unaware of. When he finally leaves the bathroom dressed in a pair of surprisingly comfortable leggings, (He had thought they would be and he was correct) he scrubs at his head hair with a towel and drapes it around his shoulders to catch any remnants of dripping water. Stepping into the hall he shivers a touch, Lancelot likes to keep the apartment a touch on the chilly side, which isn’t an issue at all, except for right after he gets out of a near scalding hot shower.

The hall light is on, and it hadn’t been, which means Lancelot must be awake now. He is determined not to say anything. There isn’t a point in bringing it up is there? Lancelot would likely just get embarrassed and go hide in his room, or in the shadowy depths of his comfy clothes, and impossibly large hood. He heads in the direction of the kitchen regardless, he hasn’t spoken to Lancelot in ages, or at least it feels like and whatever it is he has decided to cook tonight smells delicious. Garlic bread, his brain supplies, which means spaghetti. Simple, easy, a good “sorry I fell asleep and now I'm panicking to make something because I bet you're starving and it was my day to cook” food. Not that Gawain would have minded taking it on. Lancelot had been busy this week, finishing multiple art projects, writing a speech on his favorite era of art history, and studying for his theology exam. Infact, he was half tempted to tell the man to go lay back down and let him take over, but he would need a shirt for that and he was already in the dining room.

“Spaghetti with your homemade Garlic butter?” He asks innocently. Lancelot glances up at him, the barest flick of his eyes and then back at what he is doing, preparing meatballs. And there it is. Lancelot looks back up, meets his eyes and then casually takes in the entire sight of him. Face flushing just a bit, but it could be the steam from the noodle water. He watches the bob of his throat as he swallows. He assumes the other is attempting to formulate a thought but short circuiting, so he takes the moment to study bare arms and a pale throat, and the way messy black curls cling to the side of his face, cascading loose from a hastily thrown up bun. Lancelot has ditched his sweatshirt to cook and is wearing only a tank top, the tattoo consisting of swirls and runes he doesn’t understand standing out brilliantly on his shoulder and cascading to his elbow. It wasn’t often he got to see this. It was a work of art, part of Lancelot's heritage and closely guarded. It was nearly impossible to look away as his eyes followed each swoop and dive, broad stroke and fine line as they moved in turn with the muscles beneath.

"Those are not basketball shorts." Grits out his roommate, eyes still staring below his navel. He has dropped the meatball he was making and turned slightly to take Gawain in better. Grinning he laughs,

“They certainly are not. Thought I would change it up tonight. Korin said they were comfortable so I thought ‘what the hell, I’ll give it a shot.’” Lancelot finally looks up at him and licks his lip.

“ Are they?” Oh, he sounds like he’s choking on air. Lancelot towels his hands and takes a long drink from his water bottle.

“So far, Yes. Do you want help?”

“With?” Lancelot looks lost in the kitchen, which is really unfortunate it is one of his areas of magnificents. He watches as he casts his eyes anywhere but at Gawain.

“The balls.”

“The - Uh, no I uh, I’m good. Thanks.” The paler man says swallowing and pointedly starting the blender to puree the tomatoes into a sauce, cheeks unmistakably flushed now. When the noise ceases he watches as the liquid is poured into a saucepan and a mixture of spices is added along with roasted garlic and sautéed onion, stirred aggressively and left to heat. He chuckles when Lancelot stills as he walks to the fridge and grabs the carton of milk. Leaning against the counter he watches as Lance finishes preparing the meatballs and lets his eyes linger as he bends to put them in the oven. Then at his hands as he strains the noodles. He takes a long draw of milk straight from the carton and Lancelot turns to him, raises an eyebrow as they make eye contact and abruptly turns away instead of chewing him out like normal. Smirking to himself he wonders how far he can push Lancleot tonight without giving him a heart attack. He knows the attraction is mutual, unspoken but unmistakable.

“Did you have a good nap.” The knife comes to a halt against the cutting board. Lancelot grips the carrot hard enough to turn his knuckles white and pointedly stirs the sauce with his other hand before picking up the knife and turning the rest of the carrot into bits for the salad.

“Yes.” The mumble is almost lost among the clicking of the knife against the board. Gawain reaches for a slice of the now cooled Garlic bread, from his spot out of the way, and receives a well aimed smack to the knuckles with the flat of the blade. He locks eyes with Lancelot who is glaring.

“Do not ruin your appetite.” Lancelot hisses, eyes fierce.

“I don’t think that's possible where you're involved.” He sets the milk down and steps into Lancelot's space, and picks up the piece of bread he had intended to steal. Neither of them move.

“How come you napped in my room. I don’t mind. Not even a little, but I am curious.” He takes a bite of the bread and loses his train of thought, “oh god, can Lancelot cook” he had made the bread earlier in the week. Lancelot looks away from him and that stings a little but mostly it’s cute, the way the pink has not receded at all but is progressively turning redder and spreading to his ears and onto his neck. They are close enough to touch if Lance took a step forward. Instead he takes two steps back and Gawain reciprocates, taking another long gulp of milk from the jug as Lancelot checks the meatballs. The oven is set to broil so they shouldn’t take much longer. He can almost see the cogs turning as he carries the salad and plate of warm bread to the table. Then the Pasta, still in the pot with a large fork, and the sauce in its pan with a ladle.

“I was watching the sunset. I can’t see it from my room.” Lancelot finally answers as he retrieves the meatballs from the oven and places them in a bowl to be taken to the table. Gawain stares at him for a moment,

“And you were comfortable enough to fall asleep?”

“Mmm... I got lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking?” Lancelot eyes him a moment then walks over and leans into his space, opening the cupboard to his right and removing two plates.

“Many things. Be a dear and bring the salad dressing and Parmesan cheese.” He watches as Lancelot turns and all but saunters to the dining table with the bowl of meatballs, two plates and their silverware. Blinking he kicks himself for standing there dumbly while Lancelot waits at the table. He puts the milk away and does as he was asked. When he finally joins him at the table he folds the towel over the back of the chair and they eat in silence, but god’s he’s going to die if he keeps catching the dark haired man looking at him like that.

“What are you thinking now?” He manages around a bite of pasta.

“That I felt safe.”

“I don’t think I am following Lance.” Setting his fork down he makes purposeful eye contact. Seriousness seeping into what had been a very flirtatious evening.

“I feel asleep in your bed, because I felt safe.” Lancelot looks away from him, and takes a drink of his water. He hadn’t expected that. What is he supposed to say? Slowly he takes another bite of his food, he suddenly feels so uncertain. Finally, for lack of anything better to say,

“I’m glad,” he whispers and avoids making eye contact.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I Gawain?” Asks the man beside him, voice small and fragile in his ears.

“Not uncomfortable, thoughtful. I don’t know what the proper response to that is.” He answers honestly and meets blue eyes.

“I don’t know either. But I wanted you to know that anyways.” Lancelot smiles softly and returns his focus to his food.

They lapse back into silence as they finish their meal and clean up in synchronized routine. When the food has been put away, the counters wiped up and the dishes done, all in companionable silence, Gawain feels the need to speak again.

“If my teasing went too far earlier, I apologize.” He shrugs and picks up the damp towel to be put away properly. Lancelot snuggles back into the security of his oversized sweatshirt and turns to look at him.

“You didn’t. I, I thought it was sweet. I would have spoken up. But, Gawain,” he stands still as the other approaches him, “ Were you teasing me, or flirting with me?” He feels the flush creep up his chest and onto his face, Lancelot is suddenly very close and his eyes are so very blue and earnest. On instinct he reaches up and brushes curls behind his ears, knuckles barely dragging across the others cheekbones in the process, and he leans into it.

“Flirting, I was definitely flirting and teasing. Both. It was both.”

“Good,” Lancelot whispers, catching his hand, he lets it still and does not pull away as plump lips turn towards it and kiss his wrist. “Watch the sunset with me tomorrow:”

He nods dumbly. He will happily watch the sunset with Lancelot whenever, wherever, and however, the other man asks him to.

#Cursed TV 2020 #Fanfiction #Lancewain #Lancelot #The Weeping Monk #Gawain #The Green Knight #Roomates #College AU #domesticity #Sunsets #Fluff #So much Fluff #Flirting #So much Flirting #moments of seriousness #Rated T for suggestive themes

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meandmypagancrew · 4 years

Text

Maybe What You Think Of Me Won’t Change

Did you guys know that in addition to being a gifmaker and a dollmaker, I’m also a writer? I know! I am a woman of many talents most mediocre and useless. Anyway, I wrote this little fic about Clark and Farrah from We Are The Tigers, so if you’re into that kind of thing, give it a read under the cut!

It wasn’t super uncommon for Farrah to suddenly come to and not know where she was or how she got there. So when, in her drunken haze, she had a sudden moment of clarity and found herself outside by a dumpster, she groaned. In the dim light from a streetlight, she took stock as she pushed one of her braids over her shoulder. Clothes? Still on. Phone? Not dead. Purse? There. There wasn’t any vomit or blood or anything. All in all, not the worst night she had ever had.

As she got on shaky feet, she tried to remember what had happened. Marissa had picked her up, and they went to a house party at Rich’s. She had a few flashes of the party, a red solo cup in her hand, Liz doing a keg stand, Kayla and Jason trying to subtly sneak upstairs- but then nothing. Fuck. There was no one around, so how was she supposed to get home? She pulled out her phone again and clicked the home button, being greeted by a picture of Tom Holland as Spiderman- her favorite celebrity crush- and the time 3:42. It was a Thursday, but still summer, so thank God she didn’t have to worry about being up for school.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. First she needed to get home. She unlocked her phone- her home screen was a picture of her and her mom when she was born, which caused her to squint, both because of the lighter color scheme being brighter and the memory of her mom- and clicked to her contacts. Family was strictly out of the question, Annleigh would kill her for waking her up, her stepmom hated her, and her dad wouldn’t be mad but he’d be so disappointed he would probably cry the entire way and making your dad cry is a soul crushing experience.

She sat back down as she scrolled through her contacts. Party friends. A guy who was her partner for a chem project last year. Former Captain Kimberly, future Captain Riley. A guy who was rumored to be a drug dealer, but was only her contact for buying alcohol. Her first try was Marissa- she got her into this, it seemed only natural she’d get her out, but it went straight to voice mail. She kept looking, her drunk mind trying to think. Her finger tapped on Bridget, a girl who had been a cheerleader at Giles Corey but transferred back to public school after her dad had been laid off. They weren’t close, but Bridget had shown her the ropes when she joined the team, and she was a night owl so she should still be awake.

Before the first ring even finished, her usual deadpan voice answered.

“What.” She said, and Farrah struggled to not sound as drunk as she was as she responded.

“Bridged?” Despite her best efforts, her speech was a little slurred. “Canyou comeaaand git mee?”

“Farrah, it’s almost four AM.” Her voice still had no inflection. Even when sober, it was very difficult to discern where Bridget was standing, and if you were getting anywhere with her. Drunk? It was pretty much impossible.

“Yeeeeaaaaaaah… but Imm stuuuuuuck.”

“No.” Was the response, unusually harsh for Bridget.

“Whaa…?” She asked, though she was pretty sure she heard her correctly. It just didn’t seem right. Bridget wouldn’t just abandon her like this, right? As she had so astutely noted it was almost 4 AM- she was the only person who would be awake.

“No. I’m not your babysitter, Farrah. You got yourself into this mess, take some goddamn responsibility for your actions.”

“Buuu… butMarissa took meee dribking-“

“Did Marissa force the alcohol down your throat?” Bridget asked, a little too abruptly and Farrah didn’t respond. She knew she was right, and Bridget knew from her silence she had hit the nail on her head. “You made a choice. You deal with the consequences.”

The line went dead. Bridget’s words were true, but how the hell was Farrah supposed to get out of this? Buses weren’t running this time of night, she didn’t even know where she was, let alone how to get home- she needed help.

As she resumed scrolling through her contacts, a very depressing thought hit her. She didn’t have anyone to call. She was the girl you call for a party, not the girl you depend on when you need help. She didn’t have a single true friend she could depend on right now. There were no clutch friends. To put it quite frankly, she was completely fucked.

As she settled in against the dumpster to wait for daybreak, hoping the sun would bring with it some ideas, a memory she didn’t know she had came to the forefront of her mind.

“I think she’s asleep.” A voice that must have been Annleigh’s said in her memory.

She was lying down, but her eyes were closed. From the lights that occasionally shone through her eyelids, the soft rumbling, and the feeling of movement, she must have been in the backseat of the car.

“Okay.” Came another voice, male- Clark. “I’ll carry her in when we get there.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Annleigh immediately replied, and Farrah could picture the heart eyes she was almost undoubtedly making. “You’ve already done so much, helping me come get her.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. “I’m happy to help.”

“You must get tired of it.” Annleigh replied with a sigh. “I mean, she’s not even your family.”

“Well, first off, we are all sisters and brothers in the eyes of our Heavenly Father,” She could hear the smile in his voice, and a gentle sound of contact as if Annleigh had playfully hit his arm. When he spoke again, though, the smile was gone. “In all seriousness, though, your family is my family. I will always be there for Farrah, because I love her like a sister.”

The conversation turned to some boring bullshit about theology, so she had tuned it out. But her mind kept coming back to that promise. Did he mean it? Did he say it just because he thought it would win him brownie points? Either way, it was her last possible option, so she navigated to his contact and hit call.

After a few rings, his groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Clark?” She asked, and she could almost feel him snap awake.

“Farrah? What’s happening? Is Annleigh okay? Are you okay?”

“Iiii’m fiiiiine. I need a riiide.”

Clark exhaled, and she felt a little bad for waking him up. He was probably going to do thing Bridget had. This was a speculator waste of time for everyone.

“I’m…. I don’t knoooow…”

“Do you see any landmarks?” He asked, his voice patient even though she could hear him moving about, probably grabbing his keys and heading out.

“Let me… check…” She stumbled a little bit, struggling to hold the phone and climb to her feet. “Oof, okay…”

“Farrah, what’s going on?” He asked, and she waved it off before realizing he couldn’t see her as she meandered out of the alley to the street.

“Iiiit’s fiiine. You worry too much!”

She put a hand on the wall to steady her as she took stock of her surroundings. Sure enough, she was at a bar, but she didn’t recognize the name and found it highly unlikely Clark would either. Most of the storefronts were dark, and even the ones that weren’t, she felt like the words were spinning in front of her.

“What do you see?” He asked, and she scrunched up her face.

“Uhhh…” She stalled but then she saw it. She thought it was maybe the most beautiful building she had ever seen in her life, down at the end of the street. “There’s a castle…”

“A… castle?” He asked, confused.

“It’s all white. It’s so pretty. It has flowers.”

“An all white building?” He tried to clarify. “The hospital?”

“No… there’s a man on the building…” She had to squint, but sure enough.

“A man on a castle that’s white with flowers?” The skepticism in his voice was so evident that even in her state she could pick up on it and it annoyed her.

“He’s golden!” She insisted, just wanting him to believe her, that she wasn’t hallucinating.

“A golden man on- the Mormon temple?” He asked, which Farrah couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed like the best bet. “Farrah, are you at the Mormon temple?”

“Nooo… I’m in front of a bar down the street…”

“Okay. Okay. Hold on.” Clark said as Farrah leaned against the wall, already feeling a hangover starting to set in. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you hang on for five minutes?”

“Yeah…” She replied, closing her eyes against the light filtering through the bar’s windows.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Once he hung up, she pocketed her phone after making sure it was on vibration in case something happened. She had considered doing something on her phone while she waited, but even on the lowest setting, it seemed so bright it might burn her. Out of sheer boredom, she started to undo her braids. After all, even if she slept in them, she’d have to redo them tomorrow, because they’d be messy.

Just as she was relocating her second hair tie to her wrist, and shaking out the braid, the door to the bar opened, and a man walked out. Farrah didn’t notice him at first, busy combing her hair out, but he sure noticed her.

“Oh, hey, pretty girl.” He said and she looked up into eyes that looked at her like she was less of a person and more of a meal. Ugh. She had met so many predatory men like this, and she really wasn’t up to it right now. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“My ride is coming.” She said, both as an answer to the question and a way of informing him that there was someone who knew where she was supposed to be, so he better not try anything.

“I can take you wherever you need to go, baby.” He was almost purring, which was about as unsettling as being called baby by a stranger twice her age. “Especially if where you need to go is back to my place.”

That statement was punctuated with a wink, and she felt like she needed a shower.

“No, thank you.” She replied, trying to walk the line between being polite enough that he didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her, but not so polite that he thought she was into him and when she rejected him, didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her.

“Aw, come on, I can make you feel reeeeal good.”

He started to advance towards her and Farrah took a step back before she realized that would just back her into an alleyway, which was a dead end. She had no option but to stand her ground.

“I said no!” She almost yelled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” She tried to struggle against his grip, but he tightened his grip, which only scared her more. He was so much more powerful than she was.

“Get off of me!” Now she was yelling, a hint of desperation in her voice and he grabbed her other arm as well, which she continued to try to resist, but he was too strong.

“I said don’t be-“

“Get away from her!” She heard a car door slamming and while she couldn’t see who it was, she recognized his voice. The dude’s attention was fractured by the interruption, and his grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Farrah took advantage of that to pry herself from his grasp, running straight at Clark, throwing her arms around him and clutching the back of his shirt as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut as she buried her face in his chest. He immediately wrapped one arm around her, holding her close.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He sneered, and the fear in Farrah’s heart didn’t subside much. What even could Clark do? This guy, he looked like he could be a stunt double for Thor. And Clark? Clark could be the stunt double for Captain America- pre-serum.

“I’m her BROTHER!” He said, his voice taking on a hint of fierceness that Farrah had never heard before, and somehow she knew that he was going to protect her, whatever it took. “And she clearly said no, not to mention the fact that she’s 15! Take one more step towards us and I’m calling the cops on you, you pervert!”

There was a very tense moment, a pregnant pause where Farrah could feel Clark’s heart pounding against her forehead. He talked a big game, but he was terrified. If he called their bluff? The two of them together couldn’t even come close to taking him on, especially in her state. But he must have moved away, because she felt Clark exhale.

“Whatever. She’s a fat bitch anyway.” His voice was moving away, but Clark continued to hold on for several moments. He put his other arm around her before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, Farrah…”

She pulled away and looked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows at the soft murmur, confused about what he meant. Before she could ask, he pulled away even more to open the door of the car for her.

“Let’s get you home.”

She obediently climbed in, again running a hand through her hair as she checked in the mirror her reflection. Her makeup was a mess and she had definitely seen better days, but the wave in her hair was gorgeous. As Clark got into the car next to her and immediately locked the door, she expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. Even as he started the car and some sort of Christian rock- Switchfoot, maybe?- started filtering through his car speakers, a little distorted because the bass was ruined. If Farrah recalled correctly, that was because when Greatest Showman came out, Annleigh adored it so much that not only did she make Clark take her to go see it in the theatres at least six different times, it was the only thing she would listen to and she would play it whenever he drove her anywhere and was not afraid to blast it.

She expected a lecture, some kind of explosion, but instead he just stared straight ahead, clutching the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His silence was agonizing, and when she finally recognized their surroundings as he turned into their neighborhood, she braved speaking.

“Are you mad?”

“No.” He answered quickly. It wasn’t snapping at her, just a decisive statement.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” It was said the same way and she exhaled in frustration, feeling like she had to get to the bottom of this before he dropped her off, which would be soon despite the meandering streets of the neighborhood that made little sense- Clark was an expert and could navigate it like nobody’s business.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“No.”

“Are you disgusted?”

“Farrah, I’m worried.” He said as he pulled in front of the Victorian manor replica that she called her home.

She was surprised that he cared so much, and surprised at herself that she also felt defensive. As he unbuckled his seatbelt to turn and look at her, she crossed her arms.

“You’re only saying that because of Annleigh. You don’t care about me. Or at least you only care about me as Annleigh’s sister.”

“Farrah, look around.” He said, and she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to him. Look at what? The dark buses that lined the pathway up to the front door? The neighbors across the street who’s porch light was green instead of normal? The empty McDonalds bag at her feet? The little pop figures from whatever weeb shit he was into on the dashboard?

“Do you see Annleigh anywhere?” Her brows still furrowed, she shook her head. Of course Annleigh wasn’t here, she would be inside asleep, like the good little girl she was. “This isn’t an act for her. I’m not even planning on telling her this happened. I’m worried about you because I care about you. Not the Farrah who’s Annleigh’s sister, but the Farrah who’s an amazing flier, the Farrah who knows all the words to Princess Bride and watches it every year on her birthday, the Farrah who hasn’t taken ballet in four years but still sometimes twirls when she thinks no one is looking. I care about the Farrah who goes horseback riding and even if she’s in a skirt refuses to ride side-saddle. I care about the Farrah who hides books in her backpack because she loves to read but would hate for anyone to find out. I care about the Farrah who sits on her phone and pretends not to pay attention to whatever’s on TV but when her dad falls asleep during the middle of an episode and then when he wakes up and asks what he missed, always knows exactly what’s going on. I care about the Farrah who found an abandoned kitten in a rainstorm and took him home and took care of him until she could be rehomed despite the fact that she’s very allergic. I care about the Farrah that named that cat Aaron Purr. I care about that Farrah a whole lot more than I care about Annleigh’s sister.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Clark had only been actively in her life for about a year, since her dad got married, but in that time he had been paying attention. She had gone through the mortifying ordeal of being known by him and she didn’t even realize. But at the same time, even though those things were all true, they all seemed so far away. When was the last time she had danced? Finished a book? Gone horse riding at all? The person he described sounded like such a nice person, she wanted her back. When she realized that, she started to cry.

“Oh- oh, no, no, Farrah, please don’t cry-“ Clark started to panic, placing a hand on her back as she dropped her head into her hands as he continued to move around as if looking for something. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I just think you’re an amazing young woman and if you keep getting into bad situations like you did tonight, I don’t know what’s going to happen-“

“Help me.” She managed to get out through her sobs, and he suddenly stilled.

“What?”

“Help me. Please.” Once she started, it seemed like she couldn’t stop, even though the plea had to be filtered through sobs and snot. “I know I’m in trouble, but I don’t know how to stop- I can’t stop. I know everyone hates me, even my friends, and I know that it’s gone too far, but I’m scared, Clark, I’m so scared-“

“Hey, hey, shhh…” His voice brought her to an immediate halt, bringing her back to earth. She looked up at him, and even with her smeared mascara, snotty nose, tear stained cheeks, and red, puffy eyes, he didn’t turn away. He didn’t recoil in disgust. He offered her some napkins from a fast food chain he must have found somewhere with an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to your parents with you about it. If you have to go to rehab, I’ll visit you there and write. A bunch of my friends have sisters about your age, I’ll introduce you to them and maybe you’ll really hit it off and find some better friends. It won’t be easy, but I promise you don’t have to do it alone. Just say when.”

She accepted his offering and transferred her makeup from her face to the little caricature of the Grecian from the Little Ceasers logo, thinking hard about it. Right now was not an option, even with the sun beginning to appear on the horizon, she didn’t want to wake anyone up. But she also knew if she waited too long, she would lose her nerve. She was already starting to waver as she pulled herself back together. Surely things weren’t that bad, right? She could handle it on her own. But Clark was still looking at her for an answer.

“The day after tomorrow.” She finally said, and he seemed a little confused about the random time, so she explained. “The cheer sleepover is tomorrow night. You’re picking Annleigh and I up in the morning. When you drop us off, my parents should be home.”

Understanding the timeline, he nodded. It would give him enough time to research how to be a support system for her, and it would give her enough time to figure out how to backtrack, and tell Clark she didn’t really mean it and she was actually fine. That decided, she sling her purse over her shoulder and opened the car door to get out.

“Farrah?” He asked as she put her foot on the sidewalk, and she turned a little to look at him.

“Hmm?”

The light in the interior turned on when she opened the door, so she could see him clearly for the first time all night. He looked tired, but still as charismatically cheerful as ever, the human equivalent of a golden retriever.

“Chin up, buttercup.”

He gave her shoulder a playful punch and she couldn’t help but smile back before fully getting out of the car. As she walked up to her door, she thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all. Maybe he could help her find the girl he saw again, and she could be better. As she opened the door she looked back. He was still waiting and gave a small wave. She waved back before taking a deep breath and stepping inside, hearing his car start up again and drive off as the door closed behind her.

#we are the tigers #we are the tigers fanfiction #not a gifset #but still #look what i made #go easy on me please this is my first time posting fanfiction in like over a decade #but i sent it to a few people and they all seemed to like it and encouraged me to post it #so it has been posted

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faejilly · 4 years

Text

I was tagged by @la-muerta & @facialteeth & @thedivinemissema for the WIP/Title Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

AND THEN by @shadoedseptmbr @msviolacea & @ravenclawnerd for the “stories you want to write... but for some reason haven’t yet”

so this will be a mish-mash of both? The WIPs will mostly have blurbs in this case (to fit the second meme) but you are still welcome to ask follow-up questions, if you’d like ;) Assuming you make it through the list, it is uh. Not Short.

Anyone who would like to play with their WIPs, please consider yourself tagged in either or both of these. :D

Misc Fic Folder:

“untitled document” - where I’m working on fictober fills so I have word-counts for my GYWO tracker. I am not working on these because Brains Are Dumb and also Going Back To Work Is Exhausting

I made a file called “YULETIDE!” which has nothing in it but I’m determined to finish this year so that is definitely technically a thing in the Unending WIP List of Doom worth mentioning. (Tho obviously that’s all I could say even if I had started, because anonymous.)

“coda-fics, rewatch!” -yes, that exclamation mark is important! it’s to keep me motivated! (it didn’t work). Much like untitled, this is for putting stuff so I can do word count tracking even if I don’t know what I’m doing. Currently I think it just says “MARYSE” because I was working on my SH 1x6 coda-fic and then got distracted and haven’t typed anything up yet. (Yay notebooks? Boo notebooks? Not even sure at this point.)

WNIP (works not in progress) Folder:

“TOG” - I had one vivid mental image of how Nicky & Joe met (blood-stained evil smiles?) but then no idea for a follow-up story and also the fandom is insane and I’m not sure I want to deal with all of *gestures vaguely* all that

“Shan Xia Notes” -for a TTRPG that never quite got off the ground; she was a semi-tragic selkie who was still in love with the evil queen/lady who stole her skin and I got to play her for like one session and she was surprisingly chaotic neutral, which wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. But the game never really got off the ground, so I never had enough info to really delve into writing backstory fic

“post-Kruschev” -Kruschev’s List was the last episode of Scarecrow & Mrs King, and I was debating writing an epilogue in place of the s5 we never got, to try and tie up some loose ends, but the fandom’s three old-ladies in trench coats and I never quite worked up the gumption to get it anywhere

“Code Realize warm as silk sequel” -there is literally nothing in this file except “SEX! Only a little angst” because I wanted to write some “we can’t actually touch each other” smut but never actually did. 🤷‍♀️

BioWare (also all Not-In-Progress Anymore)

“seb/adelaide”, “Theia” & “DAI Erana” -these WIP folders were cannibalized for ficlets for the last few times I did fictober, and while originally I had ideas for longer epilogues for all three of them, at this point I don’t think any of the remaining bits could support a story any longer.

”whispers in the dark” -Maia Ryder never really got much fic at all; the cancellation of any further Andromeda stuff was really disheartening, and at this point I’d have to play the game again, and I don’t think I’m gonna manage that any time soon

”TSP” -a Mass Effect 3 Shepard AU collab project that kind of went off the rails, and our mutual brains/lives never quite seem to line up so we can try and rebuild it ”Ngaio & Tane” -my one truly ruthless Shepard (Alliance background, who romanced Traynor) whose father Tane Shepard was, I think, in PsyOps, and I wanted to figure out their complicated relationship but never really did know where I was going with it

”JE Zu & Yaling” -so I’ve rambled about my Tragic Sagacious Zu Romance Thoughts regarding Jade Empire more than once (#Icy Yaling should have most of it) but apparently I want to yell about it more than I want to actually write it? Whoops.

”CI sequel: 5 times fic?” -Cruel Intentions is a kinkmeme fill that I started and then it sat for like five years before I actually finished it, and I liked the ending, but it does leave a giant fucking question mark in terms of how those people got from there to where they are after the game, and I kind of wanted to write a proper h/c fic rather than just... leaving them wallowing in all that trauma?

But I didn’t. I don’t even remember for sure how I wanted to frame the 5/1 of it all, besides it being something sad about allowing people to see you or touch you in some way. (Prayers maybe, since I think there was definitely some Sebastian & Fenris & faith stuff going on in there.)

“candles” -Merribela prompt fill that I never was happy with? Not sure what I might do with it at this point, so it’s just sitting there all sad and lonely and neglected-like.

Shadowhunters

pt1: WIP LIST ONLY

“Persuasion” -so I keep trying to write Persuasion AUs in many fandoms because it’s my favorite Austen, but I think I like it too much, I have no real solid concept of how I’d transform it, and if I don’t have anything else to say about different characters within that framework, I have no push to actually write anything? Also this SH version of it suffered from MASSIVE scope creep when I started outlining and it got too big for me to handle so I like, killed it twice? Whoops. This one is really probably never gonna happen.

“oosdt sequel” -I wanted to write more about the Forest That Eats People and Magnus & Alec as Guardians Between Worlds, and also some background Magnus’ Found Family & Lightwood Family Feels (maybe some clizzy?) and I left a Madzie plot-thread dangling from the first one on purpose even but I think this one had too many ideas and not enough focus so it’s sort of sprawling all over a doc with a lot of “???” in it

“procedural-ish” -this was originally going to be a sex-farce. and then it turned more serious. and then maybe kind of copaganda which was uncomfortable in terms of the Everything That Is The News in 2020, and then maybe it was more a Mafia AU and at that point I had self-inflicted tone whiplash and I wished the voices in my head were a little more forthcoming about their plans so I stopped before I brained myself on my computer monitor in frustration.

“I had rather a rose than live forever” -I started a reverse!verse Malec (Shadowhunter!Magnus, High Warlock!Alec) for bingo last year, and I couldn’t quite get it together in time, so I made a moodboard inspired by the bits I’d started instead. I may see if one of my prompts from Bingo this year help me finish it?

“fall fright fest (practical magic au)” -exactly what it says on the tin! almost exactly a year old & neglected! IDEK ANYMORE (I talked about this one with the WIP meme last time tho: here)

“priest!kink theology?” -I thought it was gonna be smut? I like priest!kink. I have made other people like it and yell at me even! But then I kept diverging into demon!Magnus thinking about Priest!Alec’s faith and as usual, IDEK ANYMORE *laughs*

(If they’re remotely canon-adjacent or divergent, a bunch of these are in here because I need to rewatch the show to get the pacing/timing/tone right and I haven’t, and I don’t know why, because I enjoy the show, but BRAINS! Are Dumb! So I guess that’s it?)

“I do” -I have tried to write this damnable Malec arranged marriage fic like six different times. I have signed up for fic exchanges and bangs with it, I have rewritten massive sections, trying to change tone or structure or POV or whatever, and it basically comes down to they like each other too fast and I keep not gutting it enough to get back to a useful pace, but by the time I realized that I was on take six and kind of sick of it. I may get back to it eventually

“wing!fic” -canon divergent in early s1, trying to deal with the consequences of Simon’s kidnapping as the Truly Serious Event that it should have been. It uh. Got heavier than I expected with those consequences (considering it was originally just supposed to be Alec’s wings flirting with Magnus) and also see above re: rewatching for pacing.

“2x20 aftermath/date night/pandemonium porn“ -yes that is the actual wip title. It used to be “spite fic” because I was originally inspired by fighting against a lot of fic!Alec characterization that was clearly based more on the books and ATG syndrome than the Alec in the show, which is the Alec I know and like and want to read about. BUT, pacing and etc. again, I think. Also I have somehow entirely lost my knack for writing porn, which makes it difficult to finish something originally intended to be smut!fic. Or even teasing almost!smut.

“rubbish heap” -so this is about three different fics that I realized complemented each other really well so they’re now all in the same file as I try to turn them into the sequel of “with an if in its soul”. It includes amnesia, parabatai lore shenanigans, a s3 rewrite, and some truly awful Owl adjustments that make me wince in horrified authorly delight and pain. BUT, as with the other ones in this file, the scope is large and I normally write short-fic and I kind of just threw up my hands in exasperation. I may have to break it back up into the three different fics instead, if I ever actually want to write it. Them? But also I need to take better notes on s3 to make sure I have what I need in here.

SH Pt 2: Started posting or not yet in hiatus because it’s actually almost ready to be a thing in the real world! maybe!?

“kisses (firsts)” -I actually started publishing this one, a “series of firsts” that was supposed to be kind of relationship milestones and kind of an excuse for smut, and then there wasn’t that much smut and I lost momentum and also dear lords & ladies the timeline is stupid, wtf. I may not ever add to this one, tbqh. It doesn’t stop in a terrible place, and they’re all ficlets so they stand alone all right.

“clizzy epilogue” -this is blank atm, it’s more a reminder for me to keep poking away at my “girls who can’t breathe air, only fire” collection BECAUSE I WOULD LIKE TO ACTUALLY GET TO THE CLIZZY AT SOME POINT

"mer!alec" -pts 2-4 of a series, but apparently having an actual plan gets in the way of me *writing* the thing, and I haven't managed to throw the half an outline far enough away from my brain to be able to write again. Or something like that.

"ibhww" -if broken hearts were whole is a soulmate fic I started a million years ago, and purposefully set aside to finish some other WIPs because I thought they'd be quick, and now it's just buried under two and a half years of regret and shame so it's hard to get back to it

"iafy" -i am for you is a delightful & frothy semi-epistolary fluff piece that also just lost momentum because Life & 2020 & etc. It's far and away the most popular thing I've ever posted on AO3, which also makes me feel weird sometimes, and I feel like the fact that there's no grand conclusion planned, just a bit more fluff and settling in, might end up being disappointing? Basically, it's the first time I think I've psyched myself out about reader expectations, and until I get over that I'm going to have trouble finishing the last couple chapters. (There really are probably only two more chapters though. IT’S SO CLOSE, I wish I could just... write it. And yet?)

“fake-hating” -I do not like fake dating as a trope that much, I just do not get it, but I love outside POVs and arranged marriages and there’s this delighful tumblr post about how they wished there was more fic about people who were together but had to pretend they werent’, and uh. This may be that? Eventually? I’m not exhausted by my failure to finish it yet, so it’s still in the regular folder rather than the hiatus folder, even though nothing’s been posted for it.

AND I THINK THAT’S IT?

Not as terrible as it could be, but still. MANY WORDS THAT MAY NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY. Posting the equivalent of one’s old ratty sketchbook is always a weird feeling. :D

#on writing #writing memery #unending WIP List Of Doom

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sunflowergirl522 · 4 years

Text

Legally Blonde 3: Harvard Variations

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Just a legally blonde AU with you starring as Elle Woods. Based on both the movie and the musical.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1908

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Pulling up to the school fills you with excitement. It’s a new atmosphere than it is back in California but you’re enjoying it so far.

“Oh, Rocket! It’s so exciting! Look, Harvard!” Rocket turns from the window of your convertible to you and gives back a small bark with his tail wagging.

The moving van pulls up right behind you when you get to your dorm building. Students begin to gather around and chatter amongst themselves about the scene in front of them.

“Well this is our home for the next three years, Rocket. Oh, are you thirsty? Let’s get you some water. Sweetheart, you just look parched. Here you go.” You pull out a collapsible dog bowl out of your purse and fill it up while placing Rocket on the ground. “Good boy, Steve’s gonna be so excited to see you. Guys, this way.” You walk into the building with Rocket and the moving guys right behind you, ignoring the comments a few people yell towards you. “Now, don’t be scared. Everyone will love you.” You look down and say it to Rocket when in reality you’re just trying to hype yourself up for this.

***

“Hi. Y/L/N, comma, Y/n.” The man behind the table looks you up and down before handing you your group of papers.

“Class schedule, map, book list.” He flips through his list of names to mark you off.

“Wait a second, my social events calendar is missing.” This causes him to look up at you, not sure what you’re talking about.

“Your what?”

“Social events. You know, mixers, formals, clam bakes, trips to the Cape.” He only chuckles and looks back down at his clipboard. “Okay. Has Steve Rogers checked in yet?”

“Um… No. You know, maybe you should check with the cruise director on the lido deck.”

You only hum to yourself before turning and walking away trying to ignore how the comment affected you. You pretend as if you didn’t feel a stab in your heart and a twist in your stomach. You just place a happy smile on your face ignoring the thought of what if you can’t do this.

***

“Hello, I’m Bucky Barnes, welcome to the hallowed halls of Harvard Law. I know first hand how hard you’ve all worked to be here today so let’s go around and say a few things about yourselves.” Bucky speaks to the three students on the bench in front of him.

“My name is Thor Odinson. I have a masters in Scandinavian Studies, and a Ph.D. in Theology. And for the last eighteen months I’ve been teaching self defense classes to those who need them.”

“Welcome to Harvard.”

“Tony Stark. I won a Fulbright and a Rhodes. I write financial software codes but that’s a challenge I’ve outgrown. How many yachts can one man own? Some say that I’m a pompous creep, somehow I don’t lose that much sleep. Why bother with false modesty? Harvard’s the perfect place for me.”

“Welcome to Harvard.”

“Hey how’re you doing, I’m Valkyrie. I got a Ph.D. from Berkely in Women's studies, emphasis in the History of Combat. I did the Peace Corp overseas, inoculating refugees in family clinics that I built myself from mud and trees. I fought to clean up their lagoons and save their rare, endangered loons.” Just as Bucky is about to welcome her she stands up and speaks again. Bucky just sits in her old spot. “But now I’m on the legal track, because this country’s out of whack and only women have the guts to go and take it back. We'll make the government come clean and get more people voting Green, and really stick it to the phallocentric war machine.”

“I love your top, it is so fatigue chic!” All of their heads turn to look at you when you speak. “So how psyched are you guys? First day at Harvard Law! My name is Y/n Y/l/n and this is Rocket Y/l/n.” You move in front of Valkyrie and shake her hand.

“Uh, we were just going around the circle, tell us something about yourself.”

“Me?” Bucky just motions for the seat between him and Tony and nods. “Okay, well I have a bachelor’s degree from UCLA where I was Zeta Lambda Nu sweetheart and president of my sorority, Delta Nu, and last year I was homecoming queen. Oh! Two weeks ago I saw Beyonce at Fred Segal, and I talked her out of buying this truly heinous cable knit tube top. Whoever said orange is the new pink was seriously disturbed!”

Bucky chuckles a bit at that more at the way you said it than anything else. “I did not know that.”

“Does anyone know where I can find Civil Procedures Class with Professor Fury?”

“Actually some of us are heading there, so I’m sure somebody would be happy to show you.” Bucky missed when everyone darted away. “Ah well it’s in Hauser, over there, second building on the left.

“Thank you.” You smile at him and get up to leave.

“You know, I don’t think dogs are exactly allowed in class.” Bucky stands and you turn towards him.

“Oh, Rocket’s not a dog, Rocket’s family. I’ll just drop him off in my room, he’d be happier there anyway. I’ll see you later then!” You give him a little wave before turning and leaving. Bucky just stands there for another minute with a small smile on his face.

***

Walking down the hall to your class you see Steve reading things off of a bulletin board. It stops you in your tracks. With a new found confidence you walk up and start to pass him.

Steve does a double take as you pass. “Y/n?”

You fake surprise as you turn to look at him. “Steve? I totally forgot you go here.”

“What are you talking about? I’m sorry. Are you here to see me?”

“No, silly. I go here.”

“You go where?” You can hear the confusion seeping out of his voice.

“Harvard. Law school.”

“You got into Harvard Law?”

“What, like it’s hard?” You completely down play all of the hard work you did to get here. “Oh, my gosh, Steve, it’s gonna be so great.” Steve’s mouth stays agape as he tries to come to terms with all of this. “Oh, uh, time to go. I have to go to class, but meet me after on the benches, okay? Alright bye!” You leave Steve behind with his mouth still wide open in complete and utter shock.

You sit in the front of the class and pull out your little notebook after seeing your classmates all on laptops ready to type notes.

“A legal education means you will learn to speak in a new language. You will be taught to achieve insight into the world around you, and to sharply question what you know.The seat you have picked will be yours for the next nine months of your life. And those of you in the front row...Beware.” The professor looks straight at you with the eye without the patch and your smile falls for a minute. “The law is reason free from passion. Does anyone know who spoke those immortal words? Yes?” He calls on the big guy you had seen when everyone was introducing themselves.

“Aristotle.”

“Are you sure?” Professor Fury approaches him and leans towards him.

“Yes.”

“Would you be willing to stake your life on it?”

“I think so.”

“Oh. What about his life?”

“Ow.” The man that the professor hit with a pencil ducks down.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I recommend knowing before speaking. The law leaves much room for interpretation, but very little for self doubt.” Fury takes the seating chart from in front of you on his way back to the front. “And you were right. It was Aristotle. I assume all of you have read pages one through forty-eight and are now well-versed in subject matter jurisdiction. Who can tell us about Gordon v. Steele? Someone from the hot zone. Y/n Y/l/n?” You look up and get surprised with him in front of you.

“Um, actually, I wasn’t aware that we had an assignment.”

“Peggy Carter. Do you think it’s acceptable that Ms. Y/l/n is not prepared?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Would you support my decision to ask her to leave class and return only when she is prepared?”

“Absolutely.” Fury turns to look at you expectantly. You close your mouth fuming over this and pack up your stuff before getting up and leaving. You go straight outside to the benches where you’re supposed to meet Steve.

Bucky looks up and follows you as you sit down before going back to his work. When you begin mumbling to yourself he begins to get concerned. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Ya. Do they put you on the spot like that all the time?”

“The professors? Yeah, they tend to do that. What did Fury kick you out for?” You haven’t looked up yet so it shocked you that the man speaking knew whose class you were just in.

“Oh hello again!” You smile at Bucky when you turn to see him behind you. “I didn’t know there was a reading.”

“He made me cry once, not in class, I waited till I was in my room but yeah. He’ll kick you in the ass. He’s tough, really tough.”

“Great.” You sigh and turn back around.

“It gets better though. Who else do you have?”

“I have Pierce, Hill, and McCoy.”

“Speak up in Pierce’s class. He likes people who are opinionated. And in McCoy’s class try to sit in the back. He tends to spit when he talks about product liability. And for Hill, make sure you read the footnotes, ‘cause that’s where she gets a lot of her exam questions from.”

“Wow, I’m really glad I met you.” You beam at him and Bucky likes you he can feel it.

“Hey, Y/n.” Steve comes up to you and your attention immediately goes to him.

“Hey! Thanks for all your help.”

“Good luck.” Bucky watches you get up and approach Steve before he gets up himself.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hi. Uh, so… How was your first class?”

Oh, it was good, except for this horrible preppy girl who tried to make me look bad in front of the professor. But no biggie. You’re here now. So how was your summer?”

“Good. It was good.” Steve stumbles over his words, still not believing that you’re here.

“Did you do anything exciting?” It was at that moment when the girl, Peggy, comes up from behind Steve.

“Hey!” Steve chuckles nervously not sure how this will all pan out. “Have you met Peggy?”

“Oh, hi. Peggy Carter.”

“Do you know her?”

“Uh, she’s…”

“I’m his fiancee.” His grandmothers ring glistens in the sunlight.

“I’m sorry. I just hallucinated. What?”

“Yeah. She was my girlfriend in prep school. And we got back together this summer at my grandmother’s birthday party.”

“Steve told me all about you. You’re famous at our club. But he didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“Boo Bear, I didn’t know she would be here.” Hearing him call her the nickname he called you was just a stab in the chest.

“Excuse me.” And with that last word you turn to walk away, tears in your eyes.

#bucky barnes au #bucky fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #legally blonde #legally blonde au #steve rogers

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fideleluc · 4 years

Text

introducing lucien montel, the graduate chair

“ for as that righteous man lived among them day after day, he was tormenting his righteous soul over their lawless deeds that he saw and heard ” (2 peter 2:8)

hey hey! my name’s tays, i use she/her pronouns, and i live in melbourne, australia, and thus the aest (soon to be aedt) timezone. it’s been a little while since i’ve rped, but this group was just utterly irresistible so here we are! if you’re interested in plotting you can hit me up on here or discord (mightay morphin power ranger#9316) without any further ado, here’s luc montel!

stats.

full name: lucien henri montel known as: luc montel age: 25 dob: january 13, 1995 gender: cis male nationality: french religion: roman catholic course: currently studying a masters of social work, graduated a year prior with a bachelor of arts majoring in theology

bio.

( luc’s original bio ended up being i don’t even know how many words long so this is a very much summarised version, but if you have a bit more time on your hands you can read the full thing here! )

luc’s mother first learned she was pregnant not long after she graduated from highschool. she wasn’t sure exactly who the father was, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have told him - all of her friends, likely him included, had a pretty huge falling out near the end of their exams, and she was still too proud to turn to them for help, even after her own father kicked her out once he heard the news. she’d been working hard and saving up for years to get a shot at getting into a good school, something no one else from her area really saw as a likely prospect, but all her savings ended up getting funnelled into hotels and food while she tried to support herself on her own in the city.

the only way she could really pass time was to go for walks, and on these walks she ended up going past a church that seemed to be drawing her in - it was purely by chance that the priest, father pascal, was outside one time and was able to notice her hesitating, long enough for him to actually invite her inside. she had given up on religion after her mother left her and her dad, but still, when she was invited to their next mass, she ended up going - and she never really stopped. the congregation ended up being her entire support system while she was pregnant, getting her a well-paying job doing after school care for a catholic school and helping her find a cheap place to stay.

luc was born on a chilly january morning, and got baptised a week later. there was no question of whether or not he’d be raised as part of the church - the only time he was able to sit still was when he was listening to father pascal’s sermons, and he took his first steps just outside in the garden. he was taught, essentially, to do good, to be accepting and generous and kind - and he never questioned it. his mother, who’d started on a teaching degree, was careful to teach him about other religions, and though his own devotion to catholicism never wavered, it still fascinated him.

although he and his mother were better off than she had been only a few years earlier, they didn’t have a ton of money they could give - so they made good on their weekly promises to help the world with their time. luc was especially passionate about it - learning to cook so he could make things for bake sales, riding along with other members of his congregation to help out in food kitchens, doorknocking for any sort of donations people in his neighbourhood would want to give without hesitation or embarrassment.

even when he got older and his friends had moved on to more entertaining hobbies, he continued on with attending mass and keeping up with his charity work, brushing off his friend’s accusations that he was being forced into it. truly, their own interests mostly bored him - he never really had a long enough attention span for tv or movies, and he couldn’t engage in video games like they could. one thing he could join in on, though, was football - if he wasn’t doing something for the church or indulging in his also newlyfound passion for cooking, he was out on the oval.

when his friends moved on further still to getting girlfriends and drinking, luc, again, couldn’t find himself as engaged in it as they were. though he’d happily drink with them, for the most part, he put his hand up to be the designated driver and was perfectly content staying their lookout when they got close to making scenes in public. he had a few girlfriends in highschool, but the relationships never lasted long - and again, he didn’t mind. at times he’d worry that he was missing out, but it was never a concern that lasted long, especially when he saw how desperately his friends needed someone to shepherd them at times.

although he’d never been a hugely academic kid in the past, when it came time to think about university, he felt that, out of an obligation to his mother more than anything else, that he had to work just as hard as she had when she was his age to make up for the opportunity she’d missed for his sake. st margaret mary’s hadn’t been a realistic dream, but he’d figured he may as well apply - when he actually got in, with an offer of a scholarship on the side, he was almost tempted to throw it away thanks to his own doubts, but his mother quickly put an end to it. before he knew it, he was heading off across the city to the old building - a theology major.

despite his devotion to the church, he hadn’t initially planned to join chastity club, if for no other reason that is just seemed a bit extreme for him - but when he came to a meeting out of a mix of boredom and curiosity only to find that something was distinctly wrong, he couldn’t stop it from becoming the major focus of his mind for the next few weeks until he could figure out what was really going on. when he was finally able to piece together the truth, he was conflicted - on the one hand, these were people using his faith to cover up criminal activity, bringing as much shame to the church as the people who twisted the lord’s words into messages of hatred, but on the other, it could be what these people depended on, and to have that taken away from them could be disastrous. instead of being angry like he knew he should’ve been, luc was overcome with a familiar urge to help - and so he did just that.

he went to another meeting, and before they could say anything, he told them how easy it had been for him to find them out, how if he, someone with no connection to any of them, could discover the truth, then it wouldn’t be long before the staff would be following in his footsteps. he told them that, so long as a cut of any fundraiser went to an actual charity, he’d be happy to give them an actual, believable cover.

he hadn’t actually thought they’d take him on. before he knew it, though, his actual studies were being pushed to the side in favour of planning, organisation, research - though he was sure to carve out a few hours a week to catch up on his actual work, most of his time was going towards the chastity club, and not just because he wanted to help them. even if it was just a cover to the rest of the club, to him, those cuts he got from the fundraisers were the only thing that mattered - he was doing what he was supposed to be doing, what he was taught to devote himself to all his life. helping people.

as time went on, the idea of turning in the club became more and more impossible - not only was he actually able to make some wider good come out of it, but truly, the people he was surrounding himself with were like family, even if he had to turn a blind eye to half of what they got up to. he’d convinced himself that turning them in would be a far worse action than letting them stay running, and it’s a belief he’s held onto like a lifeline - but at the same time, he can’t ignore a worry that’s been growing louder and louder in the back of his mind. he never sees the consequences of the dealing. he doesn’t actually know if they’re doing more good than harm. he’s relying solely on faith, the same faith he has in god and that god, he believes, has in him.

he can only pray it’s well placed.

personality.

luc is nothing if not passionate. although it may take him a while to make up his mind about getting involved or starting a task, once he does, he’ll put his absolute all into it without turning back. no matter the exact motivation, whether it be his religion, his friends, or just a desire to do something, he works and believes with his entire heart, and once he’s dedicated to something, it’ll be almost impossible to tear him away from it.

since he was a kid, luc has always been generous. whether it’s with his possessions or even just his time, he’s one of those people who’ll throw their jacket around you if you mention it’s just a bit chilly and then refuse to ever take it back no matter how much you insist. the only way his mother eleanor was able to survive when she was pregnant and virtually homeless was through the generosity of what would end up being his parish’s churchgoers, so the first idea luc was ever taught to embrace was the idea of giving, something enforced by both her and the church itself.

part of what makes luc so convincing for the school board is that he’s an unfalteringly polite person. unless he has good reason to be angry at someone, he’ll try to greet everyone with a smile and see them off with a wish for them to have a good day, treating them like a friend even if they’re written in the first pages of his bad books. he’s always willing to listen to someone else chat and support them when they’re feeling down, no matter what mood he’s in or what’s at stake, and his consistently gentle, patient manner make essentially any lie he tells convincing.

although he was never known for his academic prowess, luc has never not been curious. once an idea intrigues him, he’ll do whatever he can to learn more, and rarely feels as if he ever has enough knowledge about the subjects that interest him, still willing to add more or take different perspectives.

luc has never been known for his spontaneity - though he’ll commit with his whole heart once he’d decided to do something, he’s very careful in making those decisions. he’ll often spend nights lying awake contemplating ideas, throwing himself different scenarios and seeing if they change his views, trying to look at things from every possible angle before making a call on something. though something he does may be stupid and may be risky, he’ll only take that risk if he’s absolutely sure it will pay off. his caution even comes through in the way he speaks, each word carefully chosen to keep things as civil as possible.

though luc is known to many as being gentle and polite, usually because he just is, that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of nothing less than being purely furious. though it usually comes from a place of love and devotion, often in response to some injustice or cruelty and rarely occurring at the drop of a hat, when something does anger him, he has no problem speaking his mind if he feels something could be done about whatever’s happened. he just can’t fathom the idea of people sitting by and letting bad things happen, and couldn’t live with himself if he just sat back and watched while someone got hurt. he has a lot of faith in people, and when people let him down, it cuts him deep.

luc was always a restless child, and that’s something that’s continued into the present day. he doesn’t often make it known - but that’s just because he’s always desperate to find something to occupy his time. whether he’s keeping himself busy by studying, planning a fundraiser, cooking, or even just going for a walk, he can’t just sit still and do nothing. the only exception to this is when he’s learning or listening to something, such as when he’s in class or church, but if he has no interest, all he’ll be focused on is how badly he wants to get up and move around again. he simply can’t relax until something that needs to be done is done.

as sociable and polite he is when in church or running fundraisers, luc is truly independent. as much as he enjoys the company of others, he’s equally comfortable in his own company, and much prefers to go over problems in his own head rather than voice them to someone else. although he’ll passionately speak out to help others, he rarely voices a concern if something has to do with him alone - it’s not that he doesn’t want people to worry, but he just figures he has everything under control as far as he’s concerned. he has no problem working on his own, and despite his own insistence when he gets a chance to assist others, he often refuses help for himself, no matter how big or small the problem is.

headcanons.

luc isn’t too sure how he went from being lucien to just luc when he was a baby, but it’s still what he introduces himself as now.

luc has never once had a moment of doubt about god’s existence, but he doesn’t think he really has much say in what happens on earth - he was taught by his childhood parish’s priest father pascal that humans were given free will because god trusted them, specifically trusted them to do good and take care of one another, and that’s a trust luc has always tried to uphold. even so, he does still think he’s always watching and may be able to give some signs, but he mostly turns towards asking saints when he needs specific help with something.

he still follow’s his mother’s belief that all gods from all religions are just aspect of the same spiritual belief of there being something bigger, and learning about those other religions still fascinates him, hence why he majored in theology when he was still studying for his bachelors - he’s still happy to follow his own god, though.

although he would never force any of his atheist friends to come to church or believe what he does, the idea that anyone would choose to believe there’s nothing over believing there’s something does baffle him somewhat.

he still goes to mass every sunday, but he doesn’t hang around the church as long as he did when he was younger - it’s partly a matter of time, partly a matter of the congregation. they’re lovely people, don’t get him wrong - but even after so many years, it’s still not his parish.

luc isn’t all that much of a tv or movies person - unless it’s about something he’s interested in, he struggles to sit down for long enough to care about what’s happening even for just an episode, let alone a whole series or film. he may have a comedy or just something light on in the background while he cooks, but he doesn’t go out of his way to watch much.

although he’s studying for a masters in social work and does want to do something to help disadvantaged people in his country, he has genuinely considered becoming a priest.

although he hasn’t played since he was in school, he does still love football - he doesn’t often watch it, but if he gets a chance to go out on the oval, he’ll take it without hesitation.

the only language he’s fluent in is french, but he does know enough english to get by and did try to learn some latin from father pascal for certain bible passages - it didn’t really stick.

even though much of his free time is spent studying or organising the chastity club’s cover, he will still try to take a few hours every so often to go and help out in some soup kitchen or another.

he’s deadly afraid of insects - moths especially freak him out

when he was young, he’d often fall asleep with the sound of his mother’s radio coming through the wall, and still now when he’s struggling to sleep he’ll find some radio stream on his phone and listen to it until he nods off.

as much as he tries, he can’t keep a plant alive - he’s made many attempts to grow his own herbs or fruit trees, but to absolutely no avail.

when he’s studying he’ll chew on the ends of his pens, and if he doesn’t have a pen, he’ll bite at his bottom lip - if one were to look closely, they’d notice a patch of it is faintly scarred.

luc has so, so much love in his heart, but despite his few brief relationships, he’s hardly been able to turn any of that love into romance - not yet, anyway.

as willing as he is to help cover up the chastity club’s true nature to the school board or anyone he feels should be hidden from the truth, he doesn’t go to any of the parties they sell at, and hasn’t ever tried any of the product. it’s just not his thing.

he stayed in student housing until he came back to get his masters, and now rents a small place a short walk from the school - when he was furnishing it, he made sure to get a pull-out couch instead of just a regular one, just in case anyone ever needed a place to crash.

he still has the same copy of the bible he poured over as a kid, though out of fear over how worn it’s gotten he mainly keeps it safely in a drawer of his bedside table.

luc is very optimistic and has a lot of faith in others - though he does think things through thoroughly just in case something can go wrong, and is constantly aware of that possibility, he has a lot of hope on his side.

misc.

pinterest starsign: capricorn sun, gemini moon myers-briggs type: isfj-t enneagram: type 2 (the helper) hogwarts house: hufflepuff alignment: neutral good aesthetics: sun coming through a stained-glass window, rainbow dappled on skin. a voice lost in a chorus. a borrowed coat on a chilly morning. the ever-present smell of something cooking, always making enough for plenty of leftovers. restless legs, restless mind. faith that keeps your heart beating, fury that boils your blood. a tongue bitten so frequently it bleeds. unwavering eye contact, no matter how elaborate the lie. burying your head in the sand. murmured passages from a book with worn pages. doing all you can, but still lying awake, wondering if you could be doing more.

#st:intro #( about. )#- took a genuine million years to find a decent gif for this which isn't a brilliant sign going forward #- turns out his fc is a lot more villainy than i'd first thought! ah well. probably too late for a change. we can live with it

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kelyon · 4 years

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Nephila 2: Unexpected

The long-awaited (and totally unplanned) next chapter of Nephila, aka The One Where Rumple is a Giant Spider

In this chapter, Belle talks to Ruby and figures out what she needs to do

Read on AO3

In a perfect world, Belle French would have never known that you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store.

Wandering through the aisles of the Dahllah Hahbah, Belle imagined what that perfect world would be like. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t be alone for this trip--unless she had a plan to surprise the co-parent of her child, but even then she would probably have brought Ruby along with her. In a perfect world, she and her significant other would have gotten the most precise pregnancy test available. It probably would have been expensive, the sort of thing you need a prescription to get. In a perfect world, this would have been an expected baby, a wanted baby. In a perfect world, Belle would have already been trying to conceive, with the help of a committed partner. She would have been charting her cycle and taking her basal temperature and regularly injecting her uterus with human sperm.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have to specify human.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Belle piled junk into the green plastic shopping cart. Halloween candy was half off, and the tiny packs of beef jerky were only a dollar. She had been especially hungry for meat lately. In the clearance section, orange and black spider decorations stared at her. Their googly eyes were equal parts friendly and ominous.

She backed away from the Halloween stuff, back into the comparative comfort of a Christmas display. She grabbed a box of candy canes and made her way to the check out lane.

The middle-aged cashier in a green polo shirt wore the dead-eyed glaze of someone who isn’t getting paid enough to express emotions on the clock. She didn’t talk to Belle as she scanned her purchases over the blinking red light. If she noticed the pregnancy test amidst all the junk food and paper products, she didn’t mention it.

And that was fine by Belle. She didn’t want people to mention it. She didn’t want it to be real. That was part of why she had gone to the next town over to make this surreptitious purchase. She didn’t want to run the risk of anyone recognizing her. Even if no one saw the test, even if they were supportive and encouraging, Belle didn’t want to think about what was happening at all. If not thinking about something could keep it from being real, then Belle would have no troubles in the world.

There was a used book store in this town, with a wider variety of subjects than the university store’s collection of last semester’s textbooks. Belle parked her car on the street and walked in. Maybe the smell of books would help her calm down.

It was the best kind of used book store, with towering shelves and hidden nooks and endless rooms leading into each other. There was even a cat wandering around, pestering patrons to pet her. Belle breathed deeply, content even in the sections that had no appeal to her. She brushed past cookbooks and theology, lingered briefly over a shelf of “Personal Relationship/Self-Help,” and eventually found herself in the most daunting section of all.

There were several copies of The Book. The book she didn’t want to admit she was looking for. After all The Book was the sort of thing the average woman only needed for nine months out of her life. Belle would probably donate her copy once all this was over with. However it would be over. However it could be over. There was so much that she didn’t know. It would be good, at least, to have a baseline of information, to know what was normal for a human woman carrying a human child.

She held The Book in one arm, making a conscious effort not to cradle it. As at the Dahllah Hahbah, she tried to camouflage The Book by surrounding it with decoys. She picked up a romance paperback, a history of lobster fishing, and a handbook for learning American Sign Language. After a moment of hesitation, Belle also pulled out a hardcover copy of Arachnology Through the Ages. When the stack of books was heavier than she could hold, Belle decided she was safe to check out.

Unlike the Dahllah Hahbah, this bookstore was staffed solely by the woman who owned the place--a retiree with her long hair in a loose bun and reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Midmorning on a Wednesday, she was obviously thrilled to chat up each and every customer who walked through the door.

“Looks like you got a good haul!” the woman said brightly.

Belle made herself smile and put the books on the counter. “It’s mostly gifts for people.”

“Early Christmas, that’s a smart move!” The owner began to ring up the books. “Oh, Texas Destiny is such a good read! Wait til you get to the part with the wild horses. Do you like horses?”

Her smile was still fixed in place. “A… little.” Belle didn’t give a shit about horses, but this was not the time to talk about it. Maybe if the shopkeeper was distracted by Texas Destiny, she wouldn’t notice--

“Oh!” The woman’s voice rose to a pitch that could only mean the worst thing in the world for Belle: She had seen The Book.

Belle could only be grateful that there was no one else in the store when the woman held up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

The shopkeeper looked Belle up and down, her smile even wider than before. “So can I say congratulations?”

Belle bit her lip and looked down. “Maybe? I--I don’t really know yet.”

“Oh sweetie!” the woman said. “If you’re buying this book, then you know. And even if it’s not this time, it’ll be soon, I can tell. You look very fertile.”

Mortified, cheeks blazing red, Belle couldn’t say anything.

The woman just kept talking. “This is the gold standard for moms-to-be. And they say it’s easy to read, doesn’t make anything too science-y.”

At that, Belle found her voice. “I’m actually working on my PhD at the University of Maine. I’ve already completed my masters in Zoology. Science-y stuff doesn’t bother me.”

The shopkeeper took that in stride. “And your... husband? Boyfriend? Partner? What do they do?”

Lives in a cave and spins gold webs, Belle thought but couldn’t say. Instead she pulled out her wallet. “It’s kind of complicated. Where do I swipe my card?”

“Oh, we’re cash only, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Belle barely kept the annoyance out of her voice as she put away her debit card and pulled out the twenty she saved for emergencies. “Of course you are.”

****

When she got back to her crappy apartment, Belle thoroughly read and re-read the instructions on the pregnancy test. She wanted to believe that this was a complicated, mysterious process. Maybe she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe she had misread the signs and miscalculated the dates since her last period. Maybe she would go to the bathroom and find her underwear stained with blood, wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be so much better than the alternative?

Overthinking was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the longer Belle dithered and avoided the inevitable, the more worked-up she found herself getting. She would have less anxiety as soon as she had some idea of what was happening.

On the other hand, every second she didn’t know if she was pregnant was another second when she could pretend she definitely wasn’t pregnant. It could be true. She could be just imagining things. But she wouldn’t know until she peed on the goddamned stick.

Before she began, she set the kettle on for a cup of tea. By the time the water boiled, it was done. Belle held her mug of Earl Grey close to her chest and looked down at the little blue plus sign.

It had happened.

She was pregnant.

From a motherfucking spider!

****

“I’m coming over and I’m bringing margarita mix!”

Ruby’s voice was loud, even considering the amplification of being on speakerphone. She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the road and the static of her phone and the pounding of Belle’s blood in her ears.

Belle had managed to keep her composure for five entire minutes before the reality of her situation had come crashing down over her head and left her a sobbing mess. In her distress, she’d called her best friend, and Ruby had answered with her usual love language: girl time and booze.

“But I can’t drink!” Belle wailed. “I’m fucking pregnant and tequila will fucking kill my baby!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drink your tequila, and you can just have the lime juice. Vitamin C is good for zygotes, right?”

“I don’t know.” Trying to pull herself together, Belle wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. There were all kinds of vitamins she needed to be taking now--or at least, there would be if she was having a human baby. What would a spider baby need? What kind of thing had taken up residence in her body? “I don’t know anything!”

“Okay, okay,” Ruby tried to soothe her. “Don’t panic. Everything will be worse if you panic. I am so close to your apartment, Belle. Just hang on until I get there. How about you look at the table of contents for your new book?”

Normally, there was nothing that calmed Belle down more than reading the table of contents to a book. There was something so comforting about knowing the progression of a text, to have all the steps and developments laid out in a simple outline, to get little teases as to the meat of the book. It was like reading the menu before sitting down to a feast, anticipating all the good things to come.

But if Belle looked at the table of contents to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, she would be peeking into the progression of the next nine months of her life, and that was not a timetable she could think about right now.

“I’ll be okay,” she told Ruby through wobbling lips. “Are you bringing food, too?”

“What, you think I’m an amature? I’m gonna hang up now so you don’t hear me freak out about parallel parking, but I’ll be up soon, hun. Okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded, even though Ruby couldn’t see it. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

Ruby’s breezy confidence was exactly what Belle needed right now. It made her feel normal, even in the middle of the most un-normal thing she’d ever heard of. Ruby had been an RA while they were undergrads, a faithful post-breakup bar companion, and the recipient of teary late-night calls from friends going back to her high school days. She knew everything about how to deal with someone who was scared and alone and crying her eyes out. Belle wasn’t the first person to call Ruby up in tears, and she wouldn’t be the last.

It helped to think that her problems were not unique. Every day, women all around the world discovered that they had an unplanned pregnancy. For every one of them, it was the end of one world and the beginning of another. And Belle was just the same. The unorthodox manner of conception didn’t change the fact that Belle was merely one of thousands or millions of women who had been put in this exact same situation since the dawn of time. And, like so many of her countless sisters, Belle found solace in reaching out to other women, to find help and comfort and solidarity.

Laden with grocery bags, Ruby burst through the unlocked door like an inverse Santa Claus. Instead of a fat old man bearing gifts for the nice, Ruby was a skinny young woman offering solace to someone who had been decidedly naughty. Belle was more happy to see her friend than she had been on any Christmas morning of her life.

“Hey,” she tried, with a watery smile.

“Baby!” Ruby dropped the bags on the ground and pulled Belle in for a hug. “Or--no. That was a bad choice of words, wasn’t it? How do you feel? Am I allowed to say the B-word?”

Belle laughed and cried at the same time. “It’s fine,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about saying the word ‘baby.’ That’s what it is, kinda.”

Ruby let Belle go and started unpacking her bags. “I know,” she said. “But ‘baby’ is an emotionally charged word. We can say ‘embryo,’ if that makes things easier on you. We’re almost doctors, Belle. We can be scientific about this.”

Scientifically, the word we should use is ‘larva,’ Belle thought but didn’t say. Ruby was her best friend and the most supportive person in the world right now. But even she would balk if she knew what Belle had really been up to on her trip to Australia.

Together, they cleared the clutter and books off the coffee table. Then Ruby made Belle sit on the couch and watch while she spread out her feast.

“Okay, so the tequila is just for me, but I did bring Sprite--it’s caffeine free and it’ll work with the margarita mix. Additionally, chips and gauc, cheese puffs, cheesecake bites, chocolate chip cookies--”

“Did you sort your shopping list alphabetically?”

“And--” Ruby went on, “a whole goddamned rotisserie chicken. I figured we could just rip into it with our hands like old-timey kings, like we’re going to throw the bones on the floor for the dogs.”

Belle let out an incredulous giggle. “That’s ridiculous! And perfect. Thank you so much, Ruby.”

“Oh! I also got this fancy salt for our margaritas. It’s made with black ants! Can you believe that?”

“Ants?” Belle whispered as her hand drifted over her stomach. Suddenly nauseous, she leapt off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

When she finished throwing up, Belle stayed on the ground next to the toilet. Ruby had lingered in the doorway but didn’t come in until Belle was done. She offered her a glass of water and Belle took it gratefully. Ruby sat on the edge of the bathtub, her face full of concern.

“Has the morning sickness been bad?”

“I don’t know if this is bad, I’ve never had it before!” Belle took a sip of water and closed her eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad? Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be divine punishment for promiscuity?”

“If it’s punishment for anything, it’s for poor planning. I thought you were on the pill?”

Belle shook her head. “I kept it up for a few months after Will and Ana got back together for the fifth time, but when it looked like they were sticking I didn’t bother to refill my prescription. I don’t have sex with men often enough to justify taking a pill every day.”

“Except for when you do.”

“Yeah,” Belle took another drink. “Except for when I do.”

Ruby took a breath and rubbed her hands over her knees. “Listen, you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Belle was still shaky, but she rested in that certainty. “Right.”

“And I’m not going to pressure you or make you do anything. You don’t even have to make any decisions today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask: Belle, what do you want to do? Have you thought about your options? Do you want to keep it? Do you want to… not keep it?”

Leaning her head back against the cool tile of her bathroom wall, Belle opened her eyes slowly. It had been such an ordeal to even confirm that she was pregnant, the thought of what came next had been too much to consider until now.

She took a deep breath, eight counts in, eight counts out.

“I think ‘abortion’ is an even more emotionally charged word than ‘baby.’”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can drive you to Planned Parenthood, I’ll be with you every step of the way. If that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Belle said softly. Ruby’s support was unconditional. She would paint a nursery or hold Belle through a difficult procedure, both with equal willingness and sincerity.

But Belle had an instinctive terror at the thought of going to a doctor’s office in her condition. What would a real urine test reveal about the nature of her child? What kind of image would show up on an ultrasound? Even if she wanted to get rid of this thing, would a regular abortion procedure work? Or would they have to go into her uterus with insecticide?

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said softly.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But you have to go to an OB! Or even just talk to Victor. I mean, if you’re going to stay pregnant, you have to stay healthy and safe.”

“I know,” Belle closed her eyes again. What could she say? How could she explain any of this? “But… I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“What, like with insurance or something?”

Belle’s eyes shot open. That worked. “Yeah,” she lied. “I don’t want to deal with crazy medical bills.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “Does Australia have universal health care?”

Now it was Belle’s turn to nod, slowly, saying words only slightly after the thoughts came into her head. “We… do. I should go back home… because of the healthcare.”

“Yeah, no, you definitely should. Besides, your parents are there!”

At the mention of her parents, Belle’s tenuous hope crumpled. “Oh God!” she let out a wrenching cry. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

“Nooo,” Ruby crooned. She slid off the bathtub edge and joined Belle on the floor, pulling her into her arms and slowly rocking her back and forth. “I know it’s scary, but parents can be okay with things. My mom didn’t want to tell Granny about me until I was almost born, but it all turned out fine!” She gave Belle a chaste kiss on the temple. “Even if your mom and dad freak out at first, they’ll come around soon. Babies are cute. They’re easy to like.”

Belle shook her head and let the tears fall silently. “Not this baby.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruby held Belle by the shoulders, twisting their bodies so they could look into each other’s eyes. “If you’re gonna keep this baby, Belle, you’ve got to own it. It will be a lovable baby because it will be your baby. You’ve got to fight for it! If you’re this thing’s mom, you have to be its biggest fan. Does that make sense?”

Still teary, Belle nodded. “It’s my baby, right or wrong.”

“Unless you want to go to Planned Parenthood. That is entirely up to you. But once you make that choice--” Ruby balled her hand into a fist and shook it in a display of fierce determination “--then it’s yours.”

“Mine,” Belle whispered. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. It was still flat and lifeless. There was nothing about her body that spoke of the life that grew inside her. Nothing that could tell her what manner of creature her child would become. But Ruby was right, it was hers. And not just hers. “I should tell the father too.”

“Yeah, you never mentioned what happened! Who was this guy? What was he like? How was the sex?”

“The sex was amazing,” Belle admitted with the candor of the overly distraught. “But it was just sort of a one-night stand. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Do you want to see him again? Do you think he’ll want to be involved?”

“He’ll have to be involved,” Belle said with a dawning sense of relief.

Of course the creature in the cave would be a part of their offspring’s life. If she was going to give birth to a spider, then it would have to be raised by a spider! And that thing… that thing was intelligent. It could care for its young. Maybe it could even take care of Belle.

She just had to see him again.

Belle felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she stood up, she nearly floated off the bathroom floor. She offered her hand down to Ruby and helped her get up.

“Tomorrow morning, I have to call Dean Mills to see if someone can teach my classes for the rest of the semester.”

Ruby cocked her head at Belle. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going back to Queensland.”

#Nephila #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #sorry there's no smut in this one #not a lot of spiders either #next time baby

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jupitermelichios · 5 years

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Jupiter’s Top 10 Fic Series of the Decade

In no particular order (and belonging to no particular fandom)

Honourable Mentions: Of Hunters & Hellblazers by KittyAug - Self Help by maskedfangirl - Bad Jokes by hahaharley - Doubtful Sanity by DustToDust - Wilton’s Bakery ‘Verse by machine_dove & sproings - Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii - New Favourite F Word by Polaris - little beasts by noctiphany & likewinning

drawn into something by Nonymos (Venom, Eddie/Venom, Dan/Anne, Eddie/Venom/Dan/Anne)

“Eddie, you… and him.”

“Yeah.” Eddie stares at the floor. “And… and look, Annie, I know it’s weird, but I can explain, I…”

His voice breaks, he’s damn near tearing up, panic rising again—and he jumps when Anne cups his face.

“Hey, it’s—it’s all right, Eddie.” She’s making a valiant effort to smile. “Don’t get so worked up. I’m not gonna run screaming.”

“No?” He laughs and sniffs. “Damn. Starting to wonder what it’s gonna take, at this point.”

This is not Nonymos’s only entry on this list. In fact they may just be my favourite fanfic author of all time. Drawn into something is everything everything I want from a Venom sequel, emotional, kinky, romantic, and poly.

OTP: Fight Club by MorganOfTheFey (Detroit: Become Human, RK900/Gavin)

"One hundred. Ten X," Nines says, voice flat enough it almost doesn't sound like bragging. "I would have been decommissioned otherwise."

"Ohhhh. Aw, that's sad. Just," She tries to snap her fingers and gets distracted for a moment when she can't. "Jus'like that?"

"Yeah RK, that's so sad," Gavin echoes. "Can you play yourself despacito?"

His own phone blares the song barely a second later. Gavin drops a few f-bombs fumbling to get it out of his jacket pocket and turn it off. Then as soon as he puts it back in his pocket, it starts up again.

"Thank you for the suggestion, detective," RK900 says. "This is making me feel better."

The fourth part of this is still coming out, and it’s the highlight of my week when the new chapter drops.

Dreams of the Waking Man by Lex_Munroe (Marvel Comics, Wade/Cable, Daken/Bullseye, Wade & Hope)

All at once, it hurts. It hurts worse than the day Nate died (because Wade couldn’t accept it back then, insisted that Nate had managed to timeslide out, that the busted old telemetry circuit would only let him go forward and he was just lost for a little while).

He sits in the middle of the floor, ducks his head, cries.

She was smarter than he was—than he is. She’d known all along. Brave girl.

Timesliding doesn’t work right on Wade, never has, and their cobbled-together sliding module barely had power to take one stringy teenager for one jump.

She’d known she was leaving her parents, that she certainly wouldn’t see one of them again and quite possibly wouldn’t see the other.

Wade allows himself a moment more for grief and shame and humility. Then he clears his throat and wipes his eyes and gets back to work.

This may be the cleverest fic I’ve ever read. Crossovers, theoretical physics, and the best love story Marvel never wrote.

The Mountains Are The Same by bonehandledknife & Primarybufferpanel (Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa/Max, Furiosa/Ace, Everyone & Healthy Coping Mechanisms)

“'Real isn’t how you are made’” Gilly said with the air of a quote, of a Remembering, “'It’s a thing that happens to you.’”

Rotor closed his eyes in a long blink, “A thing that hurts, innit it right?”

“Sometimes,” Gilly agreed, squeezing his hand, “That’s life though, when you are Real. We all become it bit by bit. But it doesn’t happen if you’re not strong, if you’re not soft, if you’re not sturdy.”

“ But how can y'be all of those at once ?” he wheezed out. It’s getting hard to catch his breath.

“You are all that right now, aren’t you?” Gilly asked him with piercing eyes, “No one else of all these Boys has had the strength to ask for me. And I will Witness you as I have kept all those of my sisters who’ve fallen these past days.”

This series is not always easy, it doesn’t shy away from the hard or the dark or the painful, but it is always worth reading.

The Unspoken Truth by Nonymos (MCU, Clint/Loki)

Barton glared at him like he was trying to decide whether he was being mocked or not, but the next second, his shoulders slumped. Loki was familiar with the feeling – that dreadful feeling of discovering something repulsive in one's own nature.

And then, he waited. He waited for Barton to think and connect the dots, to realize that an obvious solution was standing just before him, to remember how he had felt when waking up tied down, or being forced to drink down the water. The demi-god just stood there, hoping – almost praying for the first time in his life – that his enemy would look up at him with something else than hatred in his eyes.

No one writes kink quite like Nonymos writes kink, and this series is the perfect encapsulation of that.

The Stone Gryphon by rthstewart (Narnia, primarily Gen)

"Tools!" Richard was so shocked he was near speechless. He sat down heavily on the bench and began writing frantically in that strange code. "You are saying that you have observed ordinary crows use tools? Peter, that is… remarkable."

"Well, I've seen Beavers use fishing tackle and sewing machines, so it didn't seem that unusual at the time."

I’m not going to lie, this may not be to everyone’s taste. But, amateur theologian, lover of weird animal facts, and history nerd that I am, there are very few fics more exactly tailored to my interests.

Republic of Heaven Community Radio by ErinPtah (WtNV x His Dark Materials, Cecil/Carlos)

The greeting catches both her and Carlos off-guard. It's not wrong to talk directly to another person's daemon, but it's still a little weird. "Likewise," she stammers.

They're both waiting for the obvious next step, which is for Cecil to introduce his daemon. The fact that Carlos hasn't spotted her yet is understandable — a big community gathering in a small space, you get plenty of daemons breaking away from their humans to socialize directly with each other. Any of the dozen animal shapes currently within ten feet of them could be Cecil's. If his daemon has an unusually high range, there are even more possibilities.

What Cecil says instead is, "If you ever have any important experimental-theology news that you need to share with the town, call me any time! Everyone listens to my show." There's a touch of what Carlos hopes is nothing more sinister than smugness when he adds, "Everyone."

He steps out of the way to let someone else interrogate Carlos, and vanishes into the crowd. Carlos doesn't get a chance to see what daemon he leaves with.

This may be the most carefully thought out crossover I’ve ever read, and I’m a little in awe of ErinPtah’s skills.

The Soul in the Machine by missdreawrites & Troodon (Dishonoured, Corvo/Outsider)

“... Outsider?” Corvo asked, sitting down on the filthy floor. “In the published list of the people who died of the Plague… how many were registered Augments?”

“Son of a bitch, ” Corvo swore with feeling. “This is… look at this waste. We aren't even people to them, are we?” He looked down at the body next to him. “And I killed the one person who could help. I did this. I doomed an entire people to plague, and murder and…”

The cyberpunk Dishonoured AU I desperately wish I’d thought of, because it works so very well.

In Which Tony Stark Builds Himself Some Friends (But His Family Was Assigned by Nick Fury) by scifigrl47 (MCU, Steve/Tony)

“Do you know what the difference between a villain and a super villain is, Stark?” Coulson said, leaning his palms on the tabletop, looming over everything like a very snappily dressed gargoyle.

“Style?” Tony asked, pointing both index fingers in Coulson's direction like the gunslinger that he was. He added a wide grin to the gesture, but Coulson didn't seem to notice.

“A villain has a giant mass of robotic vacuum cleaners that he can sic on his enemies. A super villain gives them the ability to fly.”

“In my defense, I do not actually remember installing repulsor technology in the Roombas,” Tony said, choosing his words carefully. It had been a working theory, sure, but he still wasn't quite sure when he implemented it. Maybe sometime on Tuesday night... That one was a blur. “It was a very long couple of days. So I was as surprised by that as everyone else.”

This doesn’t really count as a rec, since everyone in the fandom has read it already, but it really wouldn’t be fair to draw up a ‘best of the 2010s’ list and not include this.

A Great and Gruesome Height by mokuyoubi (Hannibal, Will/Hannibal)

Bedelia lashes out but Will is quicker. He grabs her wrist, pressing hard between the delicate bones with his thumb, until she makes a soft noise of distress and drops the fork.

Hannibal purses his lips and leans in close to her ear. “Now that is disappointing,” he whispers, and Bedelia has the good sense to be afraid with that mouth so near her skin. He inhales her scent deeply and straightens. “I thought you and I were beyond such petty jabs.”

“Were it not for the fact that you required medical attention, I have no doubt I would have met a similarly crass ending at the hands of your pet,” she says, lip curling in disgust.

Hannibal smiles serenely and says, “Will is a creature entirely of his own making. It is not to me to guide his hand. Merely to share in the sublime perfection of his vision, when he allows it.”

There are many dark!Will stories out there, and most of them are a lot of fun, but few are quite at believable as this one.

#top 10 list #top 10 fic #stony #hannigram #symbrock #cablepool #reed900 #cecilos #frosthawk #fic recs

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