[what the hell does she mean...!?]
"N-No...I'm not.."
[You recall what she said to you]
"I can't trust you."
...
I see...
You don't trust me...
well, how can I make you trust me? How about a nice dinner?
"What..? N-No..!"
"Why do you talk so...weirdly? I can't tell what your thinking, so just spill! Tell me!"
[You find your mouth uncontrollable. You are the one spilling. You want the truth, you can't take this. you need to know who the hell she is....both of them]
...
..
"...I know what you're hiding in the back!"
[fuck. fuck fuck fuck. why would you say that?]
"tell me, the truth!"
You already know what's going on.
C'mon, hun, I'll show you what you already know.
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On Religious Trauma
I grew up in a high control religion, and on a fundamental level, I can see myself in both Crowley and Aziraphale, ESPECIALLY at the end of season two. Let me explain. (TW for religious abuse)
Within the church I grew up in, there was a very strong expectation that you build your identity exclusively within your religion; that you see Christ as the only source of good in yourself. It's one of the things that made coming to terms with my queerness and transness so intensely complicated. I had built my entire self image on being a good perfect Christian. Even after being forced from the closet at 16, I clung desperately to that identity because it was all I'd had my entire childhood. Even in the face of direct abuse pulled straight from that belief, I still couldn't let go of the only 'good' I'd ever seen in myself. I thought I could change my dad's mind if I could just prove that I was a good Christian and prove that the Bible didn't justify his hate. He didn't listen.
It took another year and a half for me to separate myself completely from Christianity. I'd been questioning my faith since 14 and it was an enormous source of guilt and shame, so letting go of that was a long healing process. The people I grew up with now go to religious unis and volunteer at the summer camps we went to as kids. It's surreal every time it comes up on my insta, and I feel like I'm the one who escaped, who saw through the sham to what was really going on. More than that, I know in my heart that my family (father aside) are also victims in their own right. I grew up watching my mother struggle, and I watch my younger sisters grow up wrestling with these same ideas. Perhaps even more strongly, having watched my fall from grace. But I can't DO anything, because I can see the fear in my mom's eyes when I reminder her why I'm not comfortable going to church with her; she was raised, just as I was, in desperate fear of seeing the damnation of those you love. She's terrified of being responsible for my eternal torture in hell. So we don't talk about it at all, because it hurts both of us.
I remember the overwhelming pressure to evangelize and convert, even as a literal child, because it was our responsibility to save them from hell. Aziraphale isn't CHOOSING angel Crowley over the one in front of him. He still hopes he can save the one person he loves more than anything in the universe. I've been there. It fucking hurts. But now I'm here, and that hurts too. Because I can see the people I love looking at me the same way and I have to say no.
Aziraphale never had a choice. Even in the face of cruelty, he sees heaven as the good in himself. It's the only identity he has. And he's scared out of his mind.
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I wrote like, 150 words today? Which it isn't much, but I really wasn't in the mood today. At least I got to write Ari and Hunter interacting
Wip wip wip
(translation on alt text)
For those wondering, Kalime is the only one in the main cast that has not commited any war crimes, or anything cruel (the kidnappings are a long story, but she's not evil for that)
Waiting anxiously to write the
"I brought all my 152cm of pure confidence in front of her and proudly challenged her for a duel.
She looked at me and gave a sweet smile
— Aww ain't you the sweetest little girl? Your costume is so pretty!"
Bc yeah, homeboy being perceived as a child by 75% of the cast is a reality (he hates it, but that's what happens when you don't treat your anorexia/anemia buddy)
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Most realistic portrayal of best friends on tv in my opinion : Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster (Psych, 2006-2014 + movies)
- they bicker 24/7
- they would literally kill anyone who dares touch their bestie
- they run away screaming abandoning their bro whenever something scary happens
- their biggest fear is being separated
- they steal cereal box prizes from each other
- they love and support each other in all their endeavors (even if they'll complain the whole time)
- they playfight and argue in whispers every single time bc they always contradict each other
- they don't put their romantic partners before their best friend (once they settled down)
And there's a ton more things I haven't listed here but they are just.... true best friends who grew up together and as much as they joke around, there is a true deep bond between the two of them and they couldn't do what they do without the other because they complete each other :(
P.S: if you like b99, sherlock, scooby doo, white collar and wanna watch a show with very well portrayed platonic and romatic relationships, watch this show ! It's lighthearted and fun with very well developped characters and it's a show that earns it's serious moments where the stakes are high ! Well written & directed and with a ton of unique episodes so you're never bored ♡ (it's on netflix go have fun ! or peacock & amazon prime depending on location)
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FD,AU
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 594
warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, explicit content, answering the phone while having sex, mild spanking. let me know if i missed anything.
a/n: listen, i'm trying to come up with new stuff but it's really hard for me rn, so pls enjoy this other orphaned work from ao3 that i'm bringing back here bc i'm an idiot. k thenks ilysm. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged and appreciated ♡
Bucky has you face down, ass up, fucking into you roughly. He’s dragging moans and whimpers from deep within you, hitting all the right places. He brings his hand down to smack your ass.
“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching around his cock.
You hear him chuckle behind you. He does it again, and again, sending your pleasure soaring higher and higher. You’re sure your orgasm is just on the cusp… when his phone rings. Obviously, you expect him to ignore it. You don’t expect him to slam into you, and then pause suddenly.
“No, no,” you whine, trying to wriggle your hips to get him moving again as your pleasure winds down to a low hum.
He shushes you, squeezing your hip. You see his arm reach to the side where his phone rests on the sheets. You watch, bewildered, as he presses a button and lifts it to his ear.
“This is James,” he says as he answers.
You throw a wild look his way, silently asking him what the fuck he’s doing. His lips tilt up in a half grin.
“Oh, Mr. Hudson, so nice to hear from you,” he greets pleasantly, at the same time he drags his cock out slowly. He thrusts back in and continues. “I hadn’t expected a call until tomorrow.” A pause. “No, I’m not busy. What do you need?”
He lazily fucks you as he holds a conversation with the supposed Mr. Hudson, and all you’re able to do is lie there and take it. You do your best to be quiet, lest the man on the other end of the phone hear you and therefore what James is doing to you, but Bucky gives you a rough thrust, his cock hitting a spot that makes you cry out. He quickly bends, wrapping his hand around your mouth, but still never stopping his thrusting.
Your breathing turns harsh, little moans coming out muffled against his hand. He shoves his phone between his cheek and shoulder, using his now free hand to pull you up until your back is pressed against his chest.
“Sure, we can set up a meeting. When is best for you?”
With one hand still covering your mouth, his other slides down your torso until it slips between your legs, his fingers setting a quick rhythm on your clit. You whimper as you throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder.
“Sounds great. I’ll see you then, sir.”
He’s barely hung up the phone when he tosses it on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast, pinching at your nipples and biting marks into your neck and shoulder. You’re a mess; noises being wrenched from you, sweat dripping down your back. Bucky’s panting against your skin as he gets closer and closer to climax.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says breathlessly.
A few more thrusts and you gasp, back arching, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, and then your body shudders, thighs shaking and trying to close around his hand. He groans as you clench around him, his rhythm faltering before he, too, stills. His hands surely leave bruises where they’re gripping you, but you’ll wear them with pride.
You both catch your breath for a moment, but then you reach behind you and pinch his thigh.
“Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the sore spot.
“If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll punch you in the dick,” you threaten halfheartedly.
He laughs and kisses you on the cheek, winking when you glare at him over your shoulder.
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