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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

#Rexsoka #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Quinlan Vos #time travel #Commander Buir #Phoenix Posts

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erazonpo3 · 3 years

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WOWM

so What Once Was Mine came out and I read it.

My General Thoughts are that this book was something of a rollercoaster but in like a pop up carnival with dubious safety regulations and diseases in the DIY log flume water kind of way. I had some fun reading it but I also feel like I picked up a rash.

If you're like me and you enjoy picking a book apart for morsels of interesting concepts then you might enjoy it, if you think holy shit why the fuck is a literal real historical serial killer in this book I need to see this then you might enjoy it, if you care about engaging plots and character beats then you probably won't.

If you want to ask me anything specific go ahead, but otherwise for more in depth thoughts: spoilers ahead

Basic Summary of the Plot

Okay so here's the deal. The story has the framing device of two siblings in a cancer ward, where one tells the other a story. I'll get into that later, but that's how it starts. Our actual story starts with a pretty long prologue: We learn that the King & Queen got the Moonflower thinking it was the Sunflower, Rapunzel was born with silver hair, and then baby Rapunzel kills a maid who accidentally hurt her when brushing her hair.

Oh, by the way, Max is a human man named Justin Tregsburg. Yeah.

Anyway, the royal family puts out feelers for legit witches who can safely take care of Rapunzel because the baby is too dangerous, and Gothel shows up to take her away. Queen Arianna visits Rapunzel once (but is only allowed to watch through a peephole) and decides watching another woman raise her child is too painful and throws herself into restoring the kingdom's orphanages instead.

Now we're in the present. Rapunzel is nineteen and she wants to go and see the lanterns (a mourning tradition of the Dead princess in this story). She tries to argue with Gothel but gets shut down, and Gothel makes her kill a chicken to prove the point that she can't go outside because she's too dangerous. However we as the audience already know Gothel plans to sell Rapunzel off as a bride or a servant or a weapon to some other nobles, because she's evil.

Also by the way Gothel still has access to our Sundrop Flower and is using it to live forever that's just a thing that happens in the background.

When Gothel is gone Rapunzel watches as a man (Flynn) stores a satchel in a tree outside of her tower, and that motivates her to leave the tower for the first time. Then she goes back inside the tower with her prize of a crown, and a skink she found and named Pascal. Rapunezl and Gothel have another spat, and Rapunzel decides she will run off to see the lanterns and she will find Flynn and make him her guide.

She ends up at the Snuggly Duckling and she doesn't find Flynn but she does find Gina, a young career criminal girl looking to break the glass ceiling. Gina agrees to help her find Flynn. They find Flynn, and he agrees to help guide Rapunzel to see the floating lanterns for a split reward of the crown with Gina.

The Snuggly Duckling gets burned down by Countess Bathory (yes that Elizabeth Bathory) and the Pub Thugs are pissed about it and also they're helping Rapunzel even though she didn't sing the I've Got A Dream song don't worry about it. We learn that the nobles that wanted to buy Rapunzel are now hunting her down so she can go to auction.

Gina takes them to her adopted mother's cottage. Gina's mother is a white witch, who goes by the name of Goodwife. She doesn't get an actual name she's just The Goodwife. Anyhow, the cottage is a magic safe space (for now) and Goodwife teaches Rapunzel that her hair isn't inherently evil and may not even be all that deadly! Rapunzel learns that her hair has other powers too, like the ability to turn skink Pascal into a sentient Chameleon. Yeah.

Also Goodwife tells Rapunzel she's the dead princess but this isn't like, an immediate call to action. Not a lot happens until we get this story's version of the Mother Knows Best Reprise where Gothel finds Rapunzel again but has to flee, but this Rapunzel has a bigger support network and isn't buying it. Flynn and Gina decide the safest course of action is to bring Rapunzel to the castle, but along the way she gets kidnapped by the Countess.

Gothel is pissed because she still wants the money for Rapunzel, so she rallies the armies of all the opposing bidders. Flynn and Gina convince Max the Man to send for his troops, and he joins them in going to the enemy castle. Flynn tries to sneak in, gets caught, and meanwhile there's a bloody battle out the front between the noble armies. Max jumps into the fray, Gina turns around and rallies the Pub Thugs.

Rapunzel uses her shrinking magic (!) to disappear half the castle and escape with Eugene, and the Pub Thugs arrive and basically end the battle. The Captain is dying but it's okay! Rapunzel turns him into a horse :) Also Rapunzel sees Gothel and tells her to fuck off.

The story ends with a tearful reunion between Rapunzel and her parents, Eugene and Gina are implied to be biological siblings, and things are good but of course in direct parallel to Cass Gina leaves at the end to become an adventurer. The end.

(There are a few other smaller plot beats, but you get the idea.)

MY THOTS

So here are my thoughts™.

Framing Device

I'll just state that I didn't like that the story was told via the vehicle of an older brother telling his 16 year old sister a different version of the Tangled Movie in a cancer ward. From what I've heard it also isn't normal for the Twisted Tales series to use a framing device for the AUs either.

I sympathise with the author's personal story, of course I do. That doesn't mean I'm stirred with compassion every time the flow of the story is interrupted to remind you to be sad because this is a story being told to a girl sick with cancer. It feels more than a little tragedy-porny rather than emotionally touching, and maybe that's because I'm too burnt out on real life tragedy to waste emotional energy on fictional cancer patients but we don't need to do Fault In Our Stars discourse again.

Real World References

This story goes heavy with Real World references. And another issue with the framing device as above is that you do feel like this is a story being told by someone namedropping every historical figure they know which makes it harder to get into the story.

There's like... a lot of references to Christianity, particularly in the prologue. There's a priest that thinks Rapunzel's hair is the work of the Devil or whatever. It's a lot. The Patriarchy is a thing. And that's not even getting into the Countess. I put it very succinctly in my notes so I'll paste it here:

I wish she’d just been an OC who could exist to chew scenery because the fact that she was a literal historical serial killer is super. Off putting. Like, she could have been an obvious reference to Bathory, but it feels like Miku Binder Hamilton levels of uncomfortable to me.

I miss Lady D.

Which basically sums up my problem with trying to take the setting of Tangled and put it somewhere in the Real World and somewhere on the Timeline. Who thought this was a good idea.

Misc. Thoughts

So, I used the five highlighter colours my ipad allows to organise my thoughts and organised them accordingly: Yellow for out of place IRL references, Blue for worldbuilding/character points that aren't plot relevant but still interesting, Pink for when something I find personally amusing happens, Purple for when the story feels like it's trying to 1-up the movie in some kind of way and Green for Heterosexual Nonsense. I'll touch on those last two in the Character sections but be prepared.

Also: for a book about giving Rapunzel killer hair, her hair isn't very dangerous. I wanted to see Rapunzel kill someone, and I'm disappointed that I didn't.

Characters

I'll do a deep dive into my thoughts about the characters before wrapping it up. I'm starting with Gina because she's honestly the easiest to get through.

Gina

Gina is a new character introduced for the story. She's a young woman trying to make it as a career criminal but keeps hitting that glass ceiling. So here's the down low, for all those who want to know: Gina is basically Cass, only not really. She's implied to be Eugene's biological sister, as previously mentioned, but you can imagine she's Cass the entire way through without breaking your immersion because if you imagined Cass if she were adopted by a Goodwitch rather than the Captain and had a looser, more wilderness survivor than trainee guard upbringing then you get Gina.

I liked Gina! I think she's fun as her own character too, and her best moments are when she's interacting with her mother Goody Goodwife, and she of course picks up a natural sibling rivalry with Eugene, but I was disappointed with how little she really bonded with Rapunzel because she needed to make room for Eugene and Rapunzel's romance.

Rapunzel

Okay, here's our protagonist. There's a notable effort to make Rapunzel more active in her destiny and whatever, and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't. I was worried they'd try to go full butt-kicking girlboss with her but I was pleasantly surprised that Rapunzel was pretty useless in most scenes, genuinely love to see it.

With a more intimate look into Rapunzel's psyche through the medium of prose, we see Rapunzel really questioning Gothel's behaviour even before she leaves the tower, and while I appreciate that she can develop her own cynicism I feel it starts unnecessarily early. This is my purple colour; the movie needs to be "fixed" by showing the readers that this Rapunzel is quicker to distrust Gothel. She's also quicker to hatch a plan to go outside of the tower on her own, and she makes a plan to make Flynn her guide for the lanterns even though he never stumbles upon her in the tower- and even though she has a perfectly rational reason not to trust him which is that he is a stranger and a Wanted Thief.

In the moments where it does work is when Rapunzel is surrounded by her new support network: Flynn, Goodwife and Gina, who encourage her to question Gothel's sincerity, and Rapunzel comes up with her own defences for Gothel so that she can poke through them herself.

I have some other thoughts about Rapunzel's hair and her powers, like how the story provides the interesting concept that her hair gets different powers with the different phases of the moon, but a lot of the powers are uhhh stupid and also I feel like it really robs the story of the whole gripping conflict of "Yes I'm Rapunzel Yes my hair kills people what of it".

In as far as just Rapunzel herself though, she still felt pretty in character nonetheless, and maybe that's all I can ask.

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

My boy I am so sorry. They neutered my boy.

Long story short: Eugene in this story is the sexy lamp. He contributes nothing to the plot except to be there for Rapunzel to drool over. And of course because he won't get any character development, he starts from the very beginning as a sweet soft boi with none of the Flynn Rider characterisation from the movie because we don't have time for that, he needs to be husband material stat.

His whole character is the colour green for Heterosexual Nonsense.

So, here's the problem. In the movie, there's not a lot of time for ~friendship~ between Rapunzel and Eugene because they kind of immediately see each other as a romantic prospect. And whatever, it's a movie and there's only so much time. But this book had the opportunity to take things a bit slower and instead chooses to make Rapunzel get jealous whenever Eugene and Gina interact and for her to be constantly wishing he was holding her hand.

Say what you will about Lost Lagoon, but it tells a good romance story just by virtue of not intending to be a romance story, because the author is trying to convey a strong bond between Rapunzel and Cassandra without using "and they kiss" as a cheatcode. What Once Was Mine says "he was a boy, she was a girl, could it be any more obvious?" and leaves it at that.

Now as for how this all pertains to Eugene's character? Well, it just robs him of any flavour. In the movie there's a clear distinction between Flynn and Eugene, when we learn Eugene's real name about halfway through. We see a clear difference between the Flynn we knew- kind of an asshole, wanated to drop Rapunzel off at the Snuggly Duckling and get rid of her- and Eugene, who is sincere and chooses Rapunzel as his New Dream in opposition to his Old Dream of living alone on an island with a bunch of money.

This version of Eugene is basically Eugene all the way through, because the plot doesn't really need Eugene there but he has to be there because it's a Tangled AU so there's no Rapunzel rescuing Flynn from the guards and healing his hand scene, he just loves her immediately and that's that. They have a little spat at one point but it's cleared up later and not because they actually communicate but because they kiss.

Rapunzel only learns Eugene's real name at the very end of the story, and gives a speech about how Eugene is the real him, but it's just so flat because 'Flynn' has been sincere this whole time? Anyway he does nothing of value for the entire story except be there for Rapunzel to lust after. Eugene I'm so sorry.

Gothel

Gothel's sort of the Big Bad and is characterised as an abusive asshole, the usual. I wish there were a bit more nuance to her character but then again in this story she's not just being passively evil- taking care of Rapunzel for selfish reasons but nevertheless maintaining the status quo- she's being actively evil in trying to sell Rapunzel off.

It's notably funny that Gothel sees the Countess Bathory and is like "what the fuck".

Anyway Gothel in this story also feels very weak in part because this Rapunzel is more critical and in part because this Rapunzel has a new support network. It's for that reason the Mother Knows Best Reprise scene doesn't really work, because the original has Gothel pit Rapunzel against Eugene, whereas she can't do that here so it remains a Gothel vs Rapunzel thing.

She gets a boring death as an epilogue addendum that someone rips out the Sundrop flower, which tbh? lame. It would be a lot more fun if it were open ended but I am also preferential to Rapunzel actually using her killer hair to kill someone. Please

Captain Justin Tregsburg

It's Max. He was a human but then he got turned into a horse. what the fuck you guys

#how did you spend your day

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soobrat · 4 years

Text

*･༓☾ bloodshot // johnny ☽༓･*

chapter i // masterlist

*pairing* you x johnny + jungwoo

*chapter rating* mature

*warnings* gore (I'll put a marker up to where it starts and ends for the squeamish), explicit sexual content, mentions of slurs and sexism

*word count* 2.4k

*disclaimer(s)* I obviously don't think johnny or any other members would act this way. Please don't take anything I write seriously as it is just for fun. I in no way view idols differently and inappropriately in real life because of my smuts or any of their contents!

((TW: you “injure yourself” in this chapter but it’s not driven by any mental health circumstances))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Well, everyone thinks you're crazy now. You really didn't think kicking a toothpick under your toenail would catch this many headlines. Or maybe it was the reason you did it that has everyone's panties in a twist.

"Popular Streamer _____ Injures Herself After Altercation with Fellow Streamer jonssuh"

You had to prove your point. You had no desire to be cordial with that son of a bitch.

"Come on, ___. You love me, right?" Johnny taps on his cheek with his index finger. The gesture was seemingly in slow motion as your blood boiled. You wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face. You balled your fists tightly as the men- no, boys laughed at his joke. Or lack thereof.

"You're so overdramatic." Lucas rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. You felt triumphant as you felt the boys getting upset. Finally their smug acts were over. It was suffocating. You glared at the two massive men as they leaned on the kitchen island, glaring back at you.

"You actually hate Johnny?" You turn to see Mark on the sofa, pushing himself forward a little so he can see beyond the other men on the sofa. His face read of concern. Good. He should be concerned.

"That's what I've been trying to fucking tell everyone. My viewers, you guys, the commentary youtubers, your viewers, everyone! I'm not joking, I was never joking, I could sleep easy knowing I'd never see Johnny again." You turn your gaze back at Johnny who had that amused smirk back on his face.

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"And why is that?" You maneuver around the island to stand firmly in front of the human skyscraper. You felt your adrenaline pumping as the air grew more tense.

"Okay guys this is getting stupid. Stop before you do something dumb." Taeyong piped up, you could hear the annoyance in his voice. You stayed put, awaiting Johnny's response. He tilts his head upward and crosses his arms, feigning deep thought.

"Well I don't know, you always seem to be around me. And hm... I don't know... the fact that I did nothing to you." The venom in Johnny's voice made you shift in place with glee. It was very difficult to not smile. You were successfully getting under his skin.

Finally a man among your mutual streamer friends was the one someone made squirm for someone else's amusement. No more sexism and just flat out being a jerk for shock value. Or to just solely make you feel like shit while everyone else laughed. Now you were laughing while Johnny gritted his teeth.

"You see, you did do something and you know you did. Look it's just my personal opinion that you're a piece of dog shit." You finally let a smile stretch across your features as you let one of his signature lines rip.

"Ah, so that's what this is about?" Johnny scoffed, shifting his weight.

"Those are just jokes. You always take them way too seriously."

You feel the power dynamic shifting again. No, you weren't going to let him use this idiotic defense to gain his position back.

"If those are jokes then you're a shitty comedian." You walk closer to him, looking straight into his eyes as you over-enunciate each letter in your insult.

"Everyone else seems to like them." Johnny shrugs, keeping his composure. The dynamic was shifting once more. You snort at his reply.

"Who's "everyone"? The little boys in this room?" You hear the boys grumble in protest around you.

"Or your 12 year old fans who think saying the N word is a punchline. Very impressive audience, Kevin Hart." You chuckle. Johnny stayed quiet for a while nodding as he shifted back and forth. You could feel how no one was on your side, but you muscled forward, trying to ignore it.

"So you're telling me you hate me, because of some stupid jokes-"

You laugh loudly.

"Of course you take two steps back when you're backed into a corner."

"We're not stupid, ____. I get it, I'm a popular streamer and beef with me would get you some decent numbers. But keep it on stream, babe." He pats your shoulder and attempts to move past you.

"I would rather kick a toothpick under my toenail than be forced to coexist with you. I promise it's not a publicity stunt." You cross your arms tightly.

"Oh yeah?" Johnny's footsteps thunder past you as he reaches for a package of toothpicks. He brings them to the island, dumping them onto the countertop. Countless toothpicks clatter onto the granite, some spilling over onto the linoleum tiles. The guys groan and protest in the background, most notably, Taeyong.

"See- This is what the fuck I'm talking about, man. You guys are so fucking ridiculous."

(gore marker)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was the anger that Taeyong didn't understand why you loathed this man. It was the way Johnny's nostrils flared at you as he gestured to the toothpicks that egged you on. Your movements are theatrical as you take two fingers to lift a single toothpick from the countertop.

"No fucking way?!" Lucas cackled in disbelief. Everyone watched in awe as you saunter to the nearest wall, placing the toothpick under your right big toenail.

"____ cut it out! What the fuck?" Taeyong shot up from the couch, attempting to stop you but it was too late. The mixture of searing pain and screeches of disbelief and disgust overwhelmed your senses. The room spun as your eyesight faded in and out. You stumbled backwards but Taeyong caught you before you could fall. Your toe was burning hot while blood ran down from the wound in various directions. You didn't want to look at it. Taeyong scoops you up and quickly whisks you away to the bathroom.

The maddening discourse was just blurred background noise as Taeyong sat you on the toilet. Your vision was going blurry, hearing going in and out as Taeyong reprimanded you. You couldn't decipher a word he was saying.

"Could you shut up and take it out please." Hot tears poured down your cheeks. Taeyong paused, shutting the bathroom door. The decrease in volume brought you back down to earth. Unfortunately, this meant the pain was clear as well. You inhale sharply before exhaling shakily. Your foot shook violently as you finally saw the viscera. You whimpered worriedly, in disbelief at yourself. Your hands shook as well as you grabbed for something, anything. One hand landed on Taeyong's arm. The other tugged a towel off a bar, the poorly assembled bar coming down as well with a loud clang.

You began to sob, not knowing how to deal with the excruciating pain. You choked, looking away as Taeyong finally removed the toothpick. Your lips tremble as you attempt to stifle your sobs. You squeeze Taeyong's arm but your body never stops shaking.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you were serious."

"You still laughed." Your voice quivered. The words came out louder than you anticipated. Johnny probably heard that. Great.

You hiss loudly as Taeyong applies peroxide.

"You need to go to the hospital, this is worse than I thought."

"Yeah, whatever." You stay turned away from him and the wound. You hear him sigh.

You gave permission to Lucas to tell the story on his stream. You wanted people to know that you will not just sit pretty and giggle while a greasy man talks down to you. You do not associate with Johnny Suh. And now the world finally understood this fact.

Except, your plan backfired. People think you're insane. For good reason. The more days go by, the more idiotic you feel. Of course if backfired. Also, "jonssuh" was bigger than you. Of course people would side with him no matter what.

"People hate me now." You see the opportunity to steal Jisoo's knight, so quickly you do so.

"Checkmate." Jisoo utters as you realize your king is fucked from all directions.

"Fuck."

"You always take the bait so fast. Also, who cares if a bunch of racist white boys hate you. They're all probably 13 anyways." Jisoo starts to put the pieces away but you stop her.

"One more round. Also, that's what I said. But let's be real, they're not all 13. Full grown adults are calling me over-sensitive. Some of them are female as well. That shit hurts." You set up your side with a pout.

"Even so, their opinions still don't matter. They have horrible senses of humor. If "go make me a sandwich" makes them laugh, their opinion is no longer valid." You make you first move.

"I guess."

Even so, the comments and tweets still stuck in your brain. Some of the boys defend you over social media which made you feel a lot better. At the same time, however, it made you feel worse. Your mind flashes back to that night, the things the guys screamed were finally clear.

Mark was just repeating "oh my god" over and over while gagging. Lucas obnoxiously screamed "YOOO!". Typical. While Johnny... well he pressed both hands to either side of his head, repeating,

"You were serious?"

Yes you dipshit. How could he be so dense?

How are men this influential over you?

You wished Jungwoo streamed. He's so funny and sweet. Not to mention he would stick up for you with no hesitation when you were with the other streamers.

"I would've just slapped him as soon as he said you take his "jokes" too seriously."

"I know." You melted into Jungwoo as he traced shapes into your arm. Your cheek squished against his bare chest as his other hand smoothed over your hair. Your legs tangled together under the covers. Jungwoo kicks them away, muttering something about being hot. The motion causes his legs to brush firmly against your panty clad core. You whimper, digging your nails into the flesh of his bicep.

"Are you needy, princess?"

You nod sheepishly, humping lightly against his leg. He climbs on top of you, spreading your legs apart with his own. He grinds his bulge against your mound, sending shots of electricity up your legs. You look up into his dark eyes. His dark hair messy and half wet. His mouth hung open as he looked at your half naked figure with want.

You twitch, trying desperately to get as much friction as possible. His motions deepen as he grinds against you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thrusts get shorter, brushing perfectly against your hardened clit. Your lips brush against his, both breathing heavily. Your moans become audible as your legs quiver slightly.

He pulls away before freeing his newly erect penis. He jerks it a few times before pushing your panties aside and entering your sopping hole. Strangled noises escape your throat as he bottoms out. You use your legs to pull him even closer. You whimper loudly at how deep his tip burrowed into you.

His hips are poetic as they sway back and forth. His cock was warm and hard as a rock as it moved in and out of you. Your noses bump against each other as he bites your bottom lip. His moans whine and tempt as they twist into your ears. He bites the lobe of your left ear as his love noises increase in volume. You dig your heels into his ass as you let out shallow open-mouthed breaths.

Jungwoo slides his hands underneath your ass to give it a firm squeeze. While doing so he pushes himself even deeper than you imagined he could go. You curse and writhe, raking his back with your fingernails. You bite his shoulder, tears threatening to spill as your stomach tightens. Your wetness spread all over both of your upper thighs. His cock was nearly lost in a sea of your juices as it plummeted deep inside you.

Getting closer, you start bucking upwards. You chased your high feverishly, encouraged by the passion behind your hatred for Johnny Suh. You thought of him. You thought of him as you snapped your hips towards Jungwoo's. You grunt hungrily, thighs quaking as you blindly chased your high.

"I'm so fucking close-" You breathe out as you grind your hips up to meet his. He snaps his hips against yours, movements more erratic and moans more determined. Your pelvis feels hot, stomach tightly wound, and legs going increasingly numb as his cock barreling into you sends you over the edge. Your moans border on a scream as you tug at Jungwoo's hair.

You trail your nails down his neck and back as he continues to thrust sloppily. His hips snap violently a few more times as he ribbons sperm into you. Your chests heave against each other, skin searing hot to the touch.

"Is all that pent up frustration gone now?" He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he laughs. You just nod breathlessly. Your stomach flutters as he peppers soft kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

"I could tell that guy really pissed you off."

"Well it was more than just Johnny."

You were both silent for a moment.

“Taeyong too?” He lifts his head to look at you cautiously. You just nod wordlessly.

“It’s also the constant losing fight. I think it may be better to just separate myself from them completely.”

Jungwoo slides off of you, snuggling into your side.

“It must be really difficult.”

You pout slightly, tears pricking at your eyes. You were being such a baby.

“Yeah.”

“Especially with Taeyong not siding with you before the toothpick intervened. I honestly thought you and Taeyong would be an item.”

“Me too.” You chuckled, it seemed so stupid now.

“But he’s in a relationship now, with someone he knows I’ve hated for years now.” Saying it out loud, you couldn’t chuckle anymore.

“This is just a shitty situation, huh?” You force a smile, looking over at Jungwoo. He was far from smiling, however. It almost looked like he was going to cry for you.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, ___.” Jungwoo snuggled even closer to you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder again.

“Yeah, me too.” You replied numbly. You didn't know if you regretted Lucas telling his stream or... the entire thing.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　끝　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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thequibblah · 3 years

Note

directors cut for WTRF? 🥺👉👈 not biased at all obviously just objective third party asking for a directors cut hmmm hmmmmm

literally how could u do this every other word in that fic is an easter egg i can't shut up about..... bestie u are about to have regrets

one thing u should know is that 90% of things in this fic have real-world equivalents and its not even like....... hidden equivalents. serie primo = serie a, for instance. this trend is going to continue and i won't apologise <3

fun fact i named the bar the Bar and the drinks after shapes because i was too lazy to come up with something actually clever

this bit

I’m grinning to myself by the time she approaches my table.

was a very intentional fakeout and if you read this and thought "she" would be lily, feel free to sue me for emotional damages

the biggest conundrum of this AU was, how are jily not going to have met in school when magic exists? the solution was, of course, having multiple magic schools. but i couldn't let one of them have hogwarts, that didn't seem fair. i know i did sort of let lily have it..... but i felt more comfortable making hogwarts a university so there was a legit reason why james wasn't there and in gryffindor (if he'd gone he absolutely would have been)

once solved, i did the fun thing of naming them! ottaline gambol's was easy, i just scrolled through the list of ministers for magic and picked a progressive one. peverell hall was a whim, made all the funnier when lily's reaction is:

Much was made at Otty’s — one of the more progressive magical schools, named for one of the more progressive Ministers of Magic — of schools like Peverell Hall and St. George’s. The latter, I know, is chock-full of pureblooded elite. Peverell Hall is supposed to be slightly better, but still.

dang, it's gonna be funny if she ever finds out james is a descendant of the guy it's named after

fun fact, i included this because peter's question was a real thought i had when reading bond and free, your inspiring writing knows no limits:

The first thing you conjure in Walking Wombat is a yellow quill... “Why yellow?” Peter asked. Eddie gave him a strange look. “Why not?”

i realised i'd put jily in the same conundrum they had in tis the fucking season here:

It’s only then that I remember she’s just bought us drinks. I turn back to my triangle. “Oh, shit.” I suppose I can pawn it off on one of the others.

...but of course the resolution is rather different, and i do so enjoy a james with no filter (aka default james)

I briefly lose control of my brain and my tongue. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with you?”

by the way, no-filter james will be a theme. wild things sure do run fast but not as fast as this boy runs his mouth!

also, another interesting challenge here was making sure james has a reason to be the way he is in AU. i love playing around with james's childhood/background and seeing how that affects his character while (hopefully!) staying true to who he is. i did that in ttfs by having him move around a lot and not meet the marauders until after the flashback timeline, which is why he's less of a git — he doesn't have the level of comfort in a social setting that canon james has with hogwarts, which is basically his playground from day 2 of first year lol

here, james was probably a fkn nightmare all through school, but of course he gets a big ego check when his quidditch career is derailed. i imagine his years in italy as a continuation of that humility lesson.

I will fully admit I used to be a cocky prick. This is what comes of being a kid who grew up with everything. But one useful thing that the whole fiasco four years ago taught me is humility. I’ve learned how to ask nicely for another chance.

and so much of writing him in wtrf is juggling that typical confidence with the insecurity/fear of losing something he's invested so much in (and has seen slip away before). it's really new to me, because typically i give lily uncertain life circumstances, but i suppose it's both of them in this AU.

the car thing was... i swear didn't start out as smutty, it was purely because i wanted a way to establish lily as muggleborn in a world where the connotations of not having magical parents is very different. more to come on that!

also, come to think of it, by this metric...

I’m now in dangerous territory, since that adds another impressive action to her running tally.

...i think james is already in love with her LOL

this bit:

The street is considered indecent and the downstairs hallway would have our landlady come running at once, so if it pleases Your Honour, we would recommend the sitting room sofa.

...was actually because in draft one lily was a lawyer, but then it was funny enough that i didn't want to take it out, but NOW i realise it makes it sound a little like she's addressing james as your honour, which.... hm. but anyway, we move on

Marc Bolan begs us to get it on through the stereo, vocalising my thoughts exactly.

the song here was initially "you shook me" (h/t @keepingupwithpotters) but i chickened out because zeppelin is SO horny dfjkhgkjs

also, it gave me so much joy to read everyone reacting to lily thinking about her ex (the general vibe was "who the fuck is this guy!!! ew!!!!") — rest assured (or, unassured??) that he has a part to play in all this. anyway, this is one of my fave lines:

He’s just a person, and there’s such a relief in sleeping with James and not the myth of a guy.

because as any come together reader knows....

Just James. Just James. It was never just James.

wtrf lily will learn!

literally the whole world knows i'm obsessed with needle drops that have no subtlety at all, but this one...

We just laugh, tangled together in a sweaty heap, as “Heaven Is in the Back Seat of My Cadillac” plays through the car’s speakers. “On the nose, isn’t it?” James says, sitting up.

...was pure luck, because i was looking up the top hits on the uk singles chart for the week(ish) this scene takes place in so that i could find a song that would realistically play on the radio, saw this, and was like omg the stars really do align

i feel like the thing i enjoy most about writing romance is the importance i get to place in noticing/looking/observing (and sometimes, not noticing!). it's just such a powerful but simple writerly tool, and god knows i am obsessed with pithy descriptions anyway, so this bit i am especially happy with:

James is already waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. I feel as though I’m seeing him for the first time, the faint light of the flickering streetlamp catching him in profile: the strong slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smile. He studies the facade of our building with open curiosity, and I wonder what he’s looking for.

(one can only imagine james's train of thought in this moment. perhaps "ah. here lives the future love of my life"?)

“Thanks,” she tacks on at the end. I tip my head to one side in confusion. “For what?” “For, I don’t know. Being nice.” She laughs awkwardly. “I don’t do this very much.”

it wouldn't be a quibblah original tee em without some discourse to come about the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, would it? one thing i enjoy about this AU ("one thing" i say as if this isn't the billionth thing in a list) is that i get to write a romantic lily who's squaring that romanticism with what she perceives as the culture of the times. (this is a bit of a staple in all my characterisations of lily, but it is not often paired with casual sex, the complication of all complications!)

oh this bit literally wrote itself like i didn't even pause to think just vomited it out:

In the morning — and it must be early still — the sun streams through Lily’s sorry excuses for curtains with aggression that cannot be ignored. I crack open an eye to find myself sprawled out across her bed, quite literally spread-eagled. She’s attached to my side like a barnacle. Or a very pretty barnacle, anyway.

i'm especially proud of james's voice in this story. i don't often write first-person fic and i was worried how it'd turn out, but i think james as a character/narrator typically colours his own 3rd-person narration so strongly that it ended up a smoother transition than i'd feared!

also i just. i can't resist throwing in comic relief and i hope that this whole segment was a gentle enough preparation for the awkwardness that followed LOL

All of a sudden, the balcony door bursts open. I nearly drop the mug. “What the—” Mary pokes her head around the corner, sporting a righteous smile. “Morning, handsome.” Over her shoulder she shouts, “He’s on the balcony!” I blink. There’s a sound from inside the flat, as if something very large has just been dropped. Then a swear. “Oh, shit,” I say, realisation dawning, “you weren’t looking for me, were you? It’s so loud out here—” Mary cups a hand around her mouth and stage-whispers, “Lily was frantic.” She’s quite violently yanked back, and Lily herself appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “Should’ve checked the balcony first,” she says, and closes the door before Mary can insert herself into the space again. “Hi,” I say, which is agreed-upon best practice for greeting a woman you’ve just had fantastic sex with and ideally would like to have sex with again.

to this day i don't know what lily dropped. let's hope it wasn't expensive!

Captained the under-17 English squad at the World Cup some years back, Serie Primo’s lead goal-scorer of last year… Only an injury in what should’ve been his first season at Puddlemere mars his record. I wince reading about it and comparing it to a heap of press clippings. James Potter was hurt, and Puddlemere didn’t fancy paying for him not to play, so they shipped him off to Milan.

(you cannot imagine how much pointed interrogation of my brother it took to gather this intel.) i constantly worry that i've got dates or timelines wrong somehow — you might notice i tweaked under-17, which used to be under-19 until i realised that made no sense (even though in terms of its career importance i would much preferred it to have been u-19.... anyway). i also found out that u-17 football squads don't actually have captains but i said fuck it on that count.

but obviously i started writing this AU for the sports possibilities, only to discover i'm going to have to interfere a great deal with the Timeline (you shall see in future instalments).

god i really went through the whole fic. like i reread the whole thing to do this. here u go clare jfbghjfd

#this has no right to be this long #wtrf #clareee75 #ask me #director's cuts

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thedreadvampy · 4 years

Note

I'm a big fan of your georgie meta about how setting boundaries is incredibly hard but also completely necessary. if i can add, the fact that this is such a messy situation with no answer that's not gonna end up with someone hurt (who's doing the hurting is irrelevant here), is why it's such good horror. I love how the horror of the more interpersonal kind works alongside the clearly supernatural. It's so tragic that Georgie even had to make that choice, it's horrifying to see Jon 1/2

2/2 struggle with this addiction to hurting other people (maybe against his will? that's really the question isn't it). like i also believe georgie made the right choice but even if circumstances were different and she really cast jon off like that, she wouldn't be Problematique because this shit isn't supposed to be neat or happy

--------

Right? I really do struggle with the idea that we’re meant to view anyone as a Pure Victim or Pure Abuser in this show but particularly with this situation...like I’m not gonna speak for Jonny but just based on how many people my age or older have experienced something similar, and particularly given that he’s mentioned his own past experiences with addiction and self-destructive behaviour, like the. uh. the real visceral emotive horror of this horror podcast is the degree to which you can do everything you can and still not have a good answer. like. Georgie is trying to do right by everyone and Jon is trying to stop something awful happening and Martin is trying to save the world and none of them are acting maliciously or blindly, they can all see the harm that their actions are causing and isn’t that the absolute root of horror? to see it coming and not to be able to stop yourself becoming part of it?

like I don’t actually take issue with the idea that having pushed everyone away, being alone is the reason Jon can’t get out. this is very effective horror and it’s something I have watched happen time and again. I don’t take issue with the idea that Georgie made a choice which hurt Jon, knowing it would hurt him. again, that’s a horror that rings really, really true with my own experiences. it’s the same fundamental horror as when someone stays hiding in silence while a monster kills their friend - screaming or trying to fight it won’t help and will just get you both killed, but there’s a horrible emotional complicity in knowing someone will suffer and choosing not to try to save them, even when trying will only hurt everyone. that’s some Good Fuckin Storytelling

but what I do take issue with is the idea that this means that you are doing something wrong. and sorry this isn’t really a reply to you any more I’ve just been stewing on it. I really, really am very angry that people are framing “saying that Jon is acting self-destructively” as victim-blaming when the whole framework of “Georgie didn’t save him which means she’s a Bad Person” is so...implying that the reason this really painful and traumatic thing happened is because You Weren’t Strong Enough To Prevent It so it’s Your Fault (or in the case of that meta I was sent, Your Failure To Handle This Perfectly Means You Must Be Maliciously Causing Your Own Pain In Order To Hurt Others). which. assfnjghduifghduighuighdfi siri what is victim blaming

(to clarify - on distancing and reflection while I still do disagree with the original post I was responding to, I don’t actually think the intent of that post was to put fault on Georgie. the subsequent messages I got and other posts in this discourse I read, though, very much did take the position They’re All Flawed Characters Who Do Shitty Things, Here’s Why What Georgie Did Was Flawed And Shitty which. like. ok. the horror comes from the inability to respond perfectly. but the horror in that situation really is that there’s no good response, and that the way Georgie acted, bar a couple of relatively minor missteps, is literally the textbook example of How You Should Respond in this situation. the horror and the impact of that in the story is that it demonstrates that you can do everything right and still not escape causing harm to yourself and others. There simply Is No Painless Way Out. and to interpret that as saying ‘this was Malicious and Unkind and I am justifying that by pointing out that Nobody Is Perfect This Is A Horror Podcast’ misses the point in a colossal way. YES people fuck up and act thoughtlessly or maliciously in TMA but the most effective horror is when they act with compassion and thought and the best possible intentions and still cause harm because the situation is too tangled and too impossible)

...

also on a different note I am really interested by your aside about “against his will” because I think with addiction (using addiction in the broad sense that includes eg self harm, anger, self-destructive or risk-taking behaviour, and paranoia/conspiratorial thinking as well as like, substance abuse) that concept is so muddy as to be meaningless and again I think that’s where the horror lies and one of the things I increasingly really like about TMA is that, as someone who’s been surrounded by a lot of those things all my life, I reckon it does a really good job of drawing out those question marks. the question of where good intentions meet bad actions, and which intentions and wants define you, and whether these addictions are imposing something on you or exposing something in you, and to what degree you control your wants and to what degree they control you. and what it means to want something you don’t want. and to choose something you’d never choose. and to be stuck in your body while you’re simultaneously sure you want something and it’s a good idea and screaming at yourself to stop. and I love the way that’s manifested in Jon’s fear of the Web and the ambiguity about to what degree the Web is the fear that everything is a manipulation and to what degree the Web is the fear that you don’t know which bits are just you. and also like. the degree that the fear of being controlled by something outside you can very readily lead you to lose all control of yourself whether or not it’s real. this is another big tangent but ARGH the WEB it’s such a GOOD DEPICTION OF COMPULSIVE PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!!!

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Wasting the Time We've Got (Methydoll) - Thorpe

A/N: Two fics in the span of one week? Who even am I anymore? Last time I gave you a vague angst. Now, this is an Angst with a capital A. I love Nicky and I love Crystal, so I made them suffer. I have no excuse for myself. Thank you to Mac and Freyja for being wonderful and amazing and agreeing to beta this story. I’m also sorry to everyone affected by the tea discourse. I’d love to find out what you’re thinking on @freykitten. Enjoy! xx

…

One Euro is 1.12 of an American Dollar, so Nicky greets the airport with a flair of superiority in her step, and people do fawn over her accent, but no one really cares. The States aren’t as great as television made it seem, but they are something new and entirely different, and it’s just two semesters abroad, so she lets herself be lured in. Gets excited.

She’s imagined she’d be partying in sororities, drinking from red plastic cups and playing beer pong, or spending 12 hours in a car on a cross-country road trip to see the biggest rocking chair in the world.

She isn’t.

Her whole life consists of choosing literature classes and trying to figure out the difference between a freshman and a junior. And there’s also her roommate.

Crystal is sweet in a way that tells Nicky her parents are good people above anything else, and she seems to have a bigger problem wording her thoughts in English than Nicky has. She leaves long pauses and communicates in high pitched noises, and Nicky adores her for that. For that and many other things. There are so many reasons to adore Crystal that sometimes it feels like a default setting.

It’s month two and they’re sitting on Crystal’s bed on a Thursday evening. They have fairy lights on (Crystal’s doing) and a couple of candles lit (courtesy of Nicky), and it’s pouring rain on the outside (aided by no one in particular, as far as they know, but they make use of it by having a cozy night in).

Nicky doesn’t catch the name. She’s pretty sure it’s because Crystal never said it, but, to be fair, she doesn’t catch many things. It’s hard to focus on what Crystal is saying when she can look at her instead. She’ll write it off as a language barrier later, but it’s not. It's… keen interest. That’s what it is. And Nicky totally isn’t thinking that it also could be translated as an infatuation, especially not when Crystal is telling her about the girl she likes.

She’s asking for advice on flirting with someone else, so Nicky’s luck really isn’t the best. The subject annoys her and she offers the simplest, most cliché things she knows from movies in hopes of ending the conversation. It doesn’t work. So she tells Crystal she’s not an expert, that she doesn’t know a thing about “American dating”. And that, it doesn’t make it better. It makes it worse. Because Crystal starts giggling and decides they have to catch up on everything. She takes her to the movies, she takes her bowling, she fails to teach Nicky to rollerskate, and later they share a strawberry shake in a diner. It’s too pink and doesn’t taste of strawberries, but Crystal’s eyes are sparkling and she blushes when she asks if Nicky is having fun. It’s nice. She is having fun. Too much fun. Too much fun to be having with a girl whose eyes reflect a whole galaxy of stars when Nicky asks her about the progress with her crush. She never tells her anything concrete, and Nicky is thankful for that, but Crystal looks down and plays with her fingers in a way that tells Nicky everything. It’s going well.

Then, it gets even worse. Crystal comes to her for another piece of advice. She’s so genuinely concerned, that Nicky forces down her jealousy and smiles. “Why don’t you do something she likes?”

It gets worse, because Crystal is so sweet and she’s so interested in Nicky’s life. Asks about her hobbies and life in Marseille, goes to jazz concerts with her, memorises the names of her friends and her favourite Dunkin’ Donut. She starts learning French from an app. Nicky jokes that when she comes to visit her in France, she won’t let her go. Will keep her there forever. It’s a joke, and Nicky is the only one who has any business knowing it’s not a joke at all. Crystal gets excited, too excited to speak, so she keeps nodding her head, making her curls and plastic beads on her necklace bounce. And Nicky knows Crystal is in on the joke, that she wouldn’t want to actually fly to another continent and stay with her forever, but she blushes like she would, and it hurts.

She’s been there for a whole semester already. Someone brings it up when they’re out with their friends and none of them can believe it. Crystal throws herself over Nicky, wrapping her arms around her, and asks Nicky not to ever leave in a shy whisper. Nicky just holds her tighter. If only Crystal knew. But she doesn’t and she can’t and she won’t. Nicky plays it off as a joke, like it wasn’t twisting the knife already stuck in her heart, but lets herself tangle her fingers in Crystal’s hair and stroke the back of her head. It could be enough, she tells herself.

Later, when they’re walking to their dorm, they’re holding hands, laughing. They’ve had a bit too much to drink, just enough not to care about zipping their jackets and to swear they can see twice as many stars as there actually are. They stop for a moment to count them, but they’re suddenly spinning, so Nicky holds Crystal and spins her too. They’re slowly swaying to the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. And then Nicky turns away from a would-be kiss. She shakes her head, puts a lot of effort into not crying. It’s not her. There’s someone else, who is not her, and Crystal would regret it when the alcohol wears off and the probability of Nicky’s chances significantly drops in percentage points. They keep dancing in silence and Nicky manages to make Crystal laugh again. Before they carry on walking, she presses a light kiss to Crystal’s temple. It’s not enough, and she doesn’t have it in her to lie to herself anymore.

“I think you need to get your shit together.”

Crystal’s been dancing around her crush for almost a whole year now, gushing about her, but not making any definite moves. Nicky probably wouldn’t survive seeing her with someone else, but she cares for Crystal’s happiness far more than for her own comfort, so she pushes her.

“Was it out of line?” Nicky soothes, making up for her harsh words by putting two glasses of iced tea on the table in front of them. It’s a calculated move. Crystal’s been the one to introduce Nicky to the atrocity that instant tea is, and it always makes her happy when Nicky likes the things she shows her.

“No, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to hear it.” Nicky chuckles at that. Crystal doesn’t join her, but it doesn’t make her worry.

“Are you angry?” She still asks. Crystal doesn’t respond, just worries her lip between her teeth and does this thing with her fingers she always does when she’s nervous. Nicky scoots closer. “You can’t.”

“I can’t be angry?” Crystal finally looks at her and she doesn’t seem mad - Nicky isn’t sure she’d be capable of that, in all honesty.

“No. Not with me,” she simply says and rests her chin on Crystal’s shoulder. “It would kill me.” Crystal lets out a frustrated huff, and Nicky smirks. She knows it’s not fair, using that on sweet, kind Crystal, but she’s never had one bad intention towards the other girl, so she feels pardoned. And who knows? Maybe it’s the truth. Maybe it would kill her. “I’m sorry, my love.”

“No, you’re right. I’m going to talk to her.” Crystal turns to look at her and her eyes are clear like the sky, but stern. She says it like she’s promising something to Nicky, and her heart drops at that.

So, it’s happening.

She’s here. They’re at a party and the girl Crystal might be in love with is here. Nicky chose her best dress, spent an hour and a half on her makeup, and teased and coiffed her hair until her blonde curls were like white gold and looked purposefully, adorably disheveled, which usually made people beg to take her home with them. Crystal can’t stop looking at her and she lets herself hope that maybe it’s working, that maybe Crystal will choose her over this strange girl that could never love Crystal as much as Nicky does.

But then they get surrounded by a crowd of people and Nicky can’t stop herself from scanning every girl talking to Crystal, wondering if it’s her. She looks at Crystal, searching for an exceptionally wide smile or a blush or a spark in her eyes. Crystal is covered in glitter, and Nicky swapped her highlighter for gunpowder, ashy and ready to go off. She winces when Crystal briefly lets go of her hand to hug a friend, and she feels her heart speed up at the thought that as soon as they run into her, Crystal will let go for good. She can’t be there, she can’t risk seeing it. So she lets go first and heads to the bar.

She doesn’t see Crystal for the rest of the night. It comes with an effort, because Nicky is always looking at Crystal, naturally gravitating to her. But she’s scared of what she’d see if she turned around, so she stays rooted to her place on a barstool, looking for a distraction. When she finally gets up, she finds Crystal alone in a booth and presses a fleeting kiss to her cheek. It tastes sickeningly sweet from grenadine in the drink the woman standing behind her bought her - or maybe just from the idea of leaving with someone else. But she can’t be here. So she places a kiss on Crystal’s cheek and wishes her luck, before walking out with her date and not looking back.

The next day she doesn’t need to ask how it went. Her heart breaks at how crushed Crystal looks when she comes back in the morning. Nicky curses herself for leaving her alone.

“Yeah,” Crystal chokes on a sob, “why couldn’t you just stay?”

She wants to burrow Crystal in her arms, hold her until the pain transfers onto her and Crystal smiles again, but she seems to reject all forms of comfort. She avoids hugs. She shuts off Nicky’s soothing. She shuts her off completely. And it hurts. Nicky’s aching to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her it’ll be better - she needs that for herself too. But since Crystal needs something else, she forces herself to go back to normal. To regular conversations and casual jokes. Pretends nothing’s happened and that Crystal didn’t get her heart broken, breaking Nicky’s in the process. They don’t mention it again.

They don’t mention a lot of things. They get distant, and Nicky swallows the lump in her throat. Crystal asks for space and there’s nothing more important to her than Crystal, so she gives her space and time and silence. The first time it feels like the old times again is the night before Nicky’s flight home. Crystal climbs into Nicky’s bed and clings to her and they cry as the sky goes from navy blue to indigo to lavender.

She texts Crystal when she lands and then calls her when she gets home.

“It was you, you know? That whole time. It was you.”

“Crystal, I-”

“Yeah.”

“It was you, too.”

“Oh.”

For a while, neither of them says anything, and Nicky’s whole world falls apart with a single “oh”. She feels desperation claw at her throat because she’s 4,899 kilometres away and this is not happening. Except it is, because they’re 4,899 kilometres and 3,043 miles away from each other, and there’s nothing they can do about it now. She swallows once. Twice. Nothing changes. It’s still too late.

“Goodbye, Nicky.” Crystal ends the call, and Nicky stands there long after, her phone pressed to her ear, hoping to hear something else, to hear something that would make it all alright, because it can’t end like this, they can’t end like this, they-

The phone stays silent.

#rpdr fanfiction #nicky doll #crystal methyd #crystal x nicky #angst #a lot of pining and no happy ending #thorpe #concrit welcome #submission #s12 #lesbian au

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incarnateirony · 5 years

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S15 Remaster: Grace, Souls, Conversion; Effects of the Fall; The Journey of Man; Self-Godhood and Free Will.

Alright, so over in another thread (x) @curioussubjects evoked an interesting take about the effects of the fall vs grace/souls and the meaning of the two, and I remembered having an old post that was a bit of a mess from early S13 where I applied Qabbalistic concepts to SPN not long before the actual... Qabbalistic and Hermetic elements started manifesting (The Shadow, the Empty/Ain Soph, etc) and before I pretty much started flipping theological shit.

The other thread was already becoming titanic with a hodge podge of other philosophical musings between users (I think @winchestersingerautorepair and @thecoffeebrain-blog are still pending to add their additions to it once life clears them), so we sort of mutually agreed to save this discourse for another thread while I took some time to remaster and update the old talking points.

It's a fundamental point that is generally vaguely brushed over, or often has modern concepts plugged into it in streamlined media form rather than exploration: What makes a soul, what makes existence, what makes meaning in our lives.

This, in fact, is the fundamental question and exploration *of* the soul, which Dabb's SPN seems to be tackling fairly directly.

So let's explore the differences and transitional conversions of grace and soul as we've witnessed in SPN. I'll be starting with my take, but of course, as all philosophical discussions go, this is best a conversation of shared concepts.

Also uh, this post was kinda on-request but is literally ridonculously long. Fuck Andrew Dabb for being the only person on the face of the goddamn planet that can make me write infinite words about esoteric philosophy about a TV show.

So this conversation gets a bit difficult to even know where to begin. I'm going to notch a few notes for everybody to keep in mind: Season 6: Death can not destroy souls. Souls are the most powerful known force in the universe, and he who has the most Is Become God. Season 13: Only god can create new angels, they are the biological definition of an asexually reproductive species (as opposed to sexual orientation identity) -- they are unable to create among themselves, and must be created by a supreme force in command of the grace that creates them. This will passively brush over the oft-discussed topic of angel sexuality as well, but that is far from the core point. Season 14: God calls souls "complicated" to handwave away making new ones. Season 15: Yet again, Belphegor tried to consume souls to become a great power, reflecting S6/7 Castiel's arc.

Now that I've sort of dropped those as a lead-in of applicable concepts, I'd like to move forward.

Now as per my S13 listing, we've all seen this fandom turn over and try to apply human sexuality and identity labels to angels over and over again and, while I understand that and mean no offense to that in general, I feel like approaching it from that angle of the human perspective and lens makes a great deal of the substantiative qualities of SPN's discussion of the human soul vanish into the aether. How are these things related? Let's talk!

Sex isn’t the only part of this discussion. As they are wavelength lifeforms, rather than biological, they aren’t really dependent on biological functions. Many of their native elements pass to their vessels: They don’t eat, sleep, or have general body functions… normally.

Their senses are all sorts of different, too. They see in the astral, they taste and smell in molecular compounds, and especially early-vessel-claiming, they seem to have next to no actual pain response. It’s like, well, some giant wave form stuffed in a meat sack they use like a marionette more than having genuine attachment to. Early on angels could waltz through gunfire without flinching and take a knife to the chest with a very bland look of, “Really?”

When it comes to discussing angels and grace, I'm going to pull some sections from the linked post at the start of this:

We know the biblical concept that all things are made by grace; we know Chuck controls his fake construct, but not the free will of the human soul. Consider Gabriel’s constructed worlds where he can manipulate the fake people inside it and snap them away in veils of blue, they’re just pieces of a machine. “I’m the cage.” The human body is part of the sandbox, but the soul is something beyond it.

If angels are living aspects of grace, wavelengths of celestial intent for Chuck’s machinations, the programs that keep the matrix in order – and fallen angels are the rogue programs – they’re still relatively connected to being just… an animated, if intelligent rock or any other piece of the universe. To use more Matrix terms: Just more lines of code. But Castiel’s break in that was contact with his profound bond with Dean that left a mark on him, a brand, just like Balthazar’s soul claims. This tie was powerful enough to be stronger than even Amara’s connection to Dean, for example.

The human soul is the essence of the one true good, realistically – The One Thing that exists, truly, by which all other things come, the Prima Materia – “What Jack did wasn’t evil, it was the absence of good.” – this is actually a hermetic concept but that’s a whole other bag of words, that’s how I quoted that line before the episode aired from the title alone but MOVING ON

If we look at Eileen for example, her ghost is still deaf. Her body/cage/vessel in life never introduced her consciousness, her humanity, to the tactile sense of sound as it exists within Chuck’s sandbox, ergo her spirit doesn’t know it. But it is the soul, like the sleeper, seeking the meaning of its existence and where it is home that commands the body, and leaves the body, and ends up in chuck’s other matrixes of control like heaven and hell that keep people distracted, keep humans from returning to the primordial man that rivals or maybe even betters God.

That all said, human Cas for example suddenly had the full awareness of experience, rather than an autonomous sentient part of the universe chained to divine intent, free or not; that freedom and liberty came by way of the human soul. (Per metatron, Season 8 finale, “When you die and your soul comes to heaven,”) But with his tie to Dean, and humanity, and a soul his hands laid on, the extraction of his grace also left… but what? A soul born of Dean, really.

Whenever his grace came back, that universal power and awareness, he lost those senses, but he didn’t lose many of the attributes that came with. In fact he pined for them.

Also if we go Jungian with the inky man/shadow as the primordial man or spirit of man, Anthropos, while it didn’t reflect Lucifer, Billie, or soulless Jack it reflected Castiel.

I’ve held the theory that Castiel still has a soul like the nucleus of an egg buried beneath a titanic presence of universal power.

I’d also further endorse this by pointing out while metatron cited Cas having a soul in the S8 finale, when Jack lost his, neither Dean nor Cas thought Cas could empathize as well as Sam could.

In example, Castiel is the only one the Shadow reflected, not Billie, not Soulless Jack, not Lucifer, just Castiel; I’ve even gone so far as to speculate that the smiley attempt at communication was the sort of subconscious borg having the essence of Jack’s soul trying to communicate with his spirit/mind otherwise alert based on consumed grace in the Empty. Speculation, yes, but… potentially loudly resonant.

The journey of man to self-godhood is a complex and tangled affair, traveling through facets of the self represented by a wide array of *ideas* we have begun to face in the show (including color schemes Dabb has actively employed)

If you venture into my shorthand visual post about The Shadow, Anima, Animus, and the Self (x) you'll find how the show has chosen to address this. Similarly, the masculine and feminine paths of universal progenation would be worth a cursory read (x).

Similarly, @winchestersingerautorepair recently sent me a chart from a 1973 book titled "The Colors of Love" discussing Hellenistic use of color in association (which, minding alchemy's growth path through time, is hugely relevant). As Maeve said, "John Allen Lee is the mvp by the way. Hes at the crossroads of psychology and LGBT concepts of love and sexuality, and has a fascinating career and life story."

Before I fully locked on to just how loud Dabb was being in his use of alchemy rather than casually tapping on it, you may remember a series of color metas I built specifically on these very colors (and, let's face it, black light doesn't exist, but blue does, and has similar psychological associations). Click this (x) to go to my color metas on tumblr regarding Optimism, which follows this path. Unfortunately my Nihilism one is either untagged or I only posted it on Pillowfort. But you’ll take note I just sort of avoided/dodged/ignored established fanon color meta in favor of other stuff, just a heads up there if you’re expecting me to follow anyone else’s pre-existing fanon -- it ain’t there.

This is all an aside to the actual question of *souls*, but an important framework to how Dabb is choosing to explore the journey of the soul through its many aspects of Being.

To defer back to what I quoted from my other post about Gabriel's universes: What makes humanity different from the moving bodies performing functions of controlled story, rather than guided elements, inside Gabriel's world? If we were to, say, drift into Doctor Sexyverse, or Cop Proceduralverse, nobody seemed to flinch or even be aware of Sam and Dean breaking the script, they continued on their own paths until Sam and Dean "played their parts". But what made Sam and Dean *different* from them?

Explaining freedom to angels is "a bit like teaching poetry to a fish," said Castiel, now bound to humanity since laying his hands on the human soul in hell that, even the S8 DVD commentary mentions, is how he has come to know, love and, as they say, be "enamored with" humanity. We have seen it now-- blank stares of confusion from breaking their course of action, their function. Their predesigned purpose that they were wavelengths of intent for within the machine. They aren't all so different from Gabriel's creations in the end, with Doctor Sexy's Nurses being not too unlike angels to Chuck. They are there for a path and a reason, and should they be somehow interrupted from that function, they seem to lose all purpose.

To convert this to another method of understanding than "matrix code", in case that isn't sinking in with anyone, think of angels as forces of nature. The hurricane means no malice, it simply exists as a function of or even result of universal laws, and often evokes great rebalancing effects that change the course of history for a huge amount of humans and other creatures that it's basically oblivious to. The hurricane does not understand your feelings much less care about them. It is here to do what it does until it is done with what it does. This very concept is why so many ancient gods are primitive archetypes of natural forces.

If we cease trying to box angels into human perceptions for the want to identify with them in such a representation-light landscape, the field opens up to something infinitely more complicated. Such as: what makes Castiel so different? I've already addressed that, of course, in this post, but let's pitch that as a conversational hook again.

"You want to know why we're meant to stay away from those humans? It's not because we're a danger to them. It's because they're a danger to us."

Now BECAUSE sexuality is the angle this fandom has heavily thrown its discussion chips into beyond the other senses, I'm going to move forward into that topical field:

Anna, talking to Dean, lists a long flurry of reasons to become human, among which sex was stapled. In later seasons, Cas comes up with a different list, but it’s more reflective of his emotive view of humanity, and doesn’t include the sex. Either way, it actually leaves interesting take on the human soul’s function (which is also a silent part of something I’ll get to later** ) as per the trinity of mind-soul-body sometimes called “The Threefold Nature of Man” in a lot of classic mysticism. **

So why would Anna include sex in the list if others can enjoy it? There’s various reasons of taking this into consideration, and I consider most headcanon potentials valid since… you know, there’s really no clear statement on this.

- Most angels have a copilot and that’s just creepy AF - It could be subliminal commentary of wanting to enjoy a native drive for it rather than a learned one, since affections and emotions are also canonically attached to the human condition (as well as the 3fold Nature discussed later). - It could have to do with gradual humanization effects (will discuss shortly) - Misc other.

Barring our specific presumption of why this hangs in the air, the detail is that it simply *does*. Perhaps the truth is between all of these, with each angel unto their own.

Anna lurked, invisibly, on earth observing men as long as she knew. Now, gradual humanization effects is a complete headcanon proposal associated around all elements to be covered in this discussion. That is to say, most angels that have exhibited sexual behavior and enjoyment of various goods have either been fallen or in their vessels for a LONG TIME, perhaps gradually removing the disassociation from the body and gaining familiarity with its functions.

Yes, we can evoke Balthazar’s sexual activity, but we must also evoke his appreciation for wine and food and music and all of the other things that we have canonically, even mechanically witnessed in Castiel (inability to appreciate food or drink, in example, as an angel.) So WHAT makes Balthazar different that he CAN experience all of these things (beyond the potential of Plothole AF)? There is literally something he has that other angels don’t. The second Cas clicks back to angel, he can’t appreciate food anymore and beer does nothing for him, but Balthazar can enjoy alcohol? There is LITERALLY a difference of template of EVERYTHING going on here, not just sexuality. We can postulate it all we want, but the only one that immediately comes to mind is “gradual humanization”, as we haven’t the FOGGIEST idea how long he has had his vessel. Unless we assume various appreciations of his are Just An Act, but then why not assume it’s performance behavior on the sexuality too? Pick one or the other, don’t run the line on both. (Also if you want to be under the assumption that despite terminal soul dealing it was his first vessel run, I’m going to leave this as a note, and a REMINDER of his meddling in attachment to, handling, trade and use of human souls for his own means, and tuck this aside until we GET to the meaning of human souls.)

The VERY SAME can be said of Gabriel. And Gabriel we KNOW has been on earth as Gabe for a VERY. LONG. TIME. His sweet tooth is what got him busted. Again, it’s not just about his sexuality, it’s his entire composition is somehow DIFFERENT from otherwise canonical function of angels.

Again I point out there’s also a big ??????? on Naomi because again… 400 year old Crowley in Mesopotamia. We have no educated way to even ADDRESS that one because… is it a time warp? WTH??? Even Mark called this a plothole. Literally we have to headcanon how they were even there together before we headcanon what was even going on in a big old pillar of ridiculous headcanon, so I’m going to float that off in a box labeled with a question mark and admit, it’s just random AF. The “fling” is also implied and unclear. So I mean- we’ll just… note that and keep moving on why it’s never impacted my perception of this much.

How long fallen was Lucifer?

Hannah brings an obvious question to mind in challenge to all of my surrounding premises, but this is literally where “choice of experimentation within a vessel” comes into play, as with all of them. I’m human now, this seems like a fun thing to humans, let me try the thing; that’s all I’ve ever read that as. You may have your read of it otherwise, but angels try a lot of things. And I’ll bring this up during canon talk.

The concept of humanization-with-time does have some further established presence of S13. When Lucifer is still an angel but largely drained of his grace, he too begins feeling compulsions of hunger, cold, and basic human instinct he was previously immune to. Diminished power, and the closer one comes to being of Soul Rather than Grace, the more they seem to resonate. Anna carved out her grace to fully enjoy humanity and was born into it, experiencing its gifts of awareness. Cas can no longer fully enjoy humanity as an angel. We don’t know what Balthazar’s status is. And so on. But it appears that by VARIOUS METHODS, such as the depletion of grace or just being a long-assed time to attach to a specific vessel, they do end up ATTAINING various behaviors.

Preparing to speak on Humanized Angels.

What really triggered this premise to me was the recurring humanization of Castiel. And again, this goes far beyond just sexuality preferences. I’m going to do a brief break to get to that ** I marked above about the threefold nature of man before expanding.

** Mind-Soul-Body trinity:

Angels have the mind/spirit (grace) and body, but lack a soul; grace is closer to their natural body’s composition than molecular and transmits a wavelength thought into whatever sack they’re using to operate. But there’s a disconnect here in classic mind-soul-body structure (which is sometimes alternately listed as Body-Spirit-Soul, with Soul as the mind instead, and Spirit in place of the alternate listing of Soul? People swap these terms interchangeably but you’ll find a common pull). There’s multiple takes on this. For example, we’ll go with the standard accepted biblical take as a first ideation of it, considering the various judeochristian influences of SPN.

Please NOTE I’m going to list several variations of this, and have no hard cast “this is the exact model” they’re using, as much as “this is a recurring theme in religion and philosophy”, which, while SPN is rarely 100% accurate to any one specific model, they often call on.

The EXACT itterations of this vary, and there’s no real saying which exact respective “silent ven diagram” they’re using, but as if a triple circle overlapped with Mind, Body, Spirit with the balance we as humans know at the core. Removing a rung of this strips out major overlap of function.

The inner spirit, insight, will and memory reaching from spirit/mind to body by WAY of the soul, for the spirit to engage the human senses within the constructed universe

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

To fully understand this chart, I again point to (as earlier in this post) this previous post about primordials, explaining the chain (x), Anima Animus and the Shadow (x) and also its association with the paths on way to enlightenment at the source of creation which is explored, for a particular path, right here (x)

Just another way to stack out this chart, including the adventure of Anima and Animus, as well as the id/ego/superego I’ll discuss soon; However, you can see the literal concept is the same. There’s an inner mind, a central essence of the inner court that reflects close to the aspects of Humanity Cas told Hannah, and then the “living room” of the body, and the senses. Same deal. Again, "I'm the cage."

You see a running theme here?

The Soul is essentially commonly received as a vehicle between the higher mind and the body (as well as possessing aspects of our emotion, and sense of self, such as how Sam lost parts of himself without his soul) That, without which, we are lacking various critical anchors of the human experience that we often see lacking in angels.

This therein raises the challenge, “But Soulless Sam was ALL ABOUT the sex.”

That’s where species difference comes in.

We’ll talk psychology a bit, wherein we have the psychological variances of id, ego and superego rather than just body-soul-mind/spirit. They essentially perform the same functions (base instinct drive, early personality function, learned and refined function with choices etc, to boil it down to super-simplistics).

“According to this Freudian model of the psyche, the id is the set of uncoordinated instinctual trends; the super-ego plays the critical and moralizing role; and the ego is the organized, realistic part that mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego.” – Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Vol. XIX. Translated from the German under the General Editorship of James Strachey. In collaboration with Anna Freud. Assisted by Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson, Vintage, 1999. [Reprint.] ISBN 0-09-929622-5

A Sam with no soul has his base species survival instinct but his acting mind. A Cas with no soul has HIS base species survival instinct (in lack of sexual reproduction as much as potential learned appreciation under the above spoken methods) for an id, if any, and a curiously arranged body until other elements come into play. The ego and superego, such as the application of a soul, leaves room for the gradual inclusion of preferences to anything within this model, such as angels developing their own ORIENTATION once having a vehicle by which to come through.

There’s a few other points to notice about the transition. The Mind/Spirit is capable of questions and doubts, or faith. “I’m not a hammer, as you call it; I have questions, I have doubts.” - S4 Castiel.

The mind is capable to think and to reason, but complex emotions are a challenge to it without a soul, which also filters our thoughts and memories from upper mind into the body, wherein we gain connectivity to the physical senses and the realm we experience.

But the universe -- the wavelengths of intent that make it function -- simply can not experience itself, any more than any other code running on your computer can experience itself. It is you, the human, that experiences the results of that code, and views and understands it and reaches out to aspects of life through it. Grace, should all things be made by it and through Chuck, as the thing that creates this code/intent of angels -- it simply is, and runs, and functions.

So BACK TO THE HUMANIZATION OF ANGELS,

Castiel has humanized or near-humanized three times and we're pending on a fourth. Briefly in the hospital, he was braindead (lacking Jimmy’s brain function, but instead having his own mind) while his heart remained pumping, meaning the body/vessel was alive, but the remaining grace WAS in fact functioning in place of a mind.

CASTIEL 5.21 I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead. (…) CASTIEL You could say my batteries are – are drained. DEAN What do you mean? You’re out of angel mojo? CASTIEL I’m saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I’m saying that I’m just incredibly… DEAN Human. Wow. Sorry.

However, it was depleted, and this is addressed in effect later on by Metatron removing grace. As grace is removed,

METATRON 8.23 And now something wonderful is going to happen, for me and for you. I want you to live this new life to the fullest. Find a wife. Make babies. And when you die and your soul comes to Heaven, find me. Tell me your story.

Now Castiel goes on to return to himself by going all cannibal and whatnot, but that’s its own story. The simple fact of it is, with the mind housed in a vessel, but the grace attached to it depleted, the body seems to generate something like, equivalent to, or equal to a human soul in its function.

Now to reflect back

2014!CASTIEL 5.04 So, in this way. We’re each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total, shared perception—it’s, um, it’s surprisingly physical. 2014!CASTIEL spots DEAN. 2014!CASTIEL Oh. Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy? The WOMEN leave. 2014!CASTIEL You’re all so beautiful. 2014!CASTIEL stands and stretches his back, grunting. DEAN What are you, a hippie? 2014!CASTIEL I thought you’d gotten over trying to label me. (…) 2014!CASTIEL I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I’m sorry, no dice. DEAN What, are you stoned? 2014!CASTIEL Uh, generally, yeah. DEAN What happened to you? 2014!CASTIEL Life. (…) 2014!CASTIEL You want some? DEAN Amphetamines? 2014!CASTIEL It’s the perfect antidote to that absinthe. DEAN Mmm. Don’t get me wrong, Cas. I, uh. I’m happy that the stick is out of your ass, but—what’s going on—w-with the drugs and the orgies and the love-guru crap? 2014!CASTIEL laughs. DEAN What’s so funny? 2014!CASTIEL Dean, I’m not an angel anymore. DEAN What? 2014!CASTIEL Yeah, I went mortal. DEAN What do you mean? How? 2014!CASTIEL I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of— psshhew!—drained away. And now, you know, I’m practically human. I mean, Dean, I’m all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months. DEAN Wow. 2014!CASTIEL Yeah. DEAN So, you’re human. Well, welcome to the club. 2014!CASTIEL Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I’m powerless. I’m hapless, I’m hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It’s the end, baby. That’s what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that’s, that’s just how I roll.

Now, we can try to extrapolate that it’s “all the drugs,” but drugs or not, while decadence includes MORAL decline, it also is this:

dec·a·dence ˈdekədəns/Submit noun moral or cultural decline as characterized by excessive indulgence in pleasure or luxury.

And Cas doesn’t get words wrong (unless he’s trying to make an awkward conversation starter with Dean as what’s almost a routine for them, always in idioms and never in definition). In fact, he has a very on-point vocabulary. How often does someone evoke “Insouciant”?

Calling it decadence defines this as a luxury to Castiel. The entire episode is like One Giant Exposition of the differences: being breakable, prone to decadence, bang a few gongs on the way out. Yes, it includes drugs; hell, he’s now subject to being INFLUENCED by drugs, contrary to being able to drink down the entire bar before “starting to feel something” or needing to drink the whole liquor store before the grace stopped implicitly filtering it enough for him to stagger in on Sam. At some point, Castiel decided these were ALL his coping mechanisms, but this is an adaptation of some period of humanization between late 2009 and 2014.

This could be considered a one-off of Zachariah’s manipulation or whatever if we choose to ignore Edlund saying it was a real universe, but then we get the SAME THING hitting us again in season 9, if under a different, immediate scope rather than “end result.”

9.01 CASTIEL looks at his bloody palm. CASTIEL It hurts. (…) MAN How about we get you some water, hmm? CASTIEL I, uh, I don’t drink water. (…) CASTIEL It’s okay. I don’t eat.

and

9.03 CASTIEL (Chewing on the toothpaste) I’ll be moving on tonight after work. It’s time. The MAN nods and hangs up his towel. CASTIEL Can I ask you something? MAN Sure. CASTIEL walks into one of the bathroom stalls. CASTIEL Do you ever tire of urinating? I’ll never get used to it. (…) HOMELESS MAN You’re new at this, aren’t you? CASTIEL Food… sleep, or passing gas, it’s all very strange. And it’s occurred to me that one day I’m gonna die. CASTIEL and the HOMELESS MAN just look at each other curiously. CASTIEL Well… I better try falling asleep. It’s quite a process, isn’t it? (…)

Now, we’re going to take to the raw moment of Castiel and April,

She kisses him gently on the cheek, but stays close and eventually kisses him on the lips. CASTIEL seems surprised at first but then joins in.

Cas is surprised… and then joins in. Castiel did not expect this, but falls into it of his own action. No force was implied, and the moment leading into it was all of a few seconds, rather than any persistence or insistence.

A few more bits,

APRIL So, that was okay? CASTIEL Very much so. Um… what I did, that was, uh… correct? APRIL Very much so. CASTIEL (Smiling) (…) APRIL So what happens next for you? CASTIEL More of this, I hope. They smile and start making out again.

I don’t exactly get the feeling that she’s entirely leading this situation on all by herself, to the dismay of several gatekeeper ship or sexuality stans.

More elements with regards to humanity in this episode,

CASTIEL I am really enjoying this place. Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn’t there? DEAN It ain’t all just burritos and strippers, my friend. CASTIEL Yeah. I understand what you’re saying. SAM You do? CASTIEL Yes, there’s more to humanity than survival. You… look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or despair. Or hedonism, for that matter. DEAN Where does hedonism come into it? CASTIEL Well, my time with April was very educational. SAM Yeah. I mean, I would think that getting killed is something. CASTIEL And having sex. DEAN chokes on his burrito for a second. DEAN You had sex with April? SAM Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in.

This isn’t just Castiel talking about having sex for the first time. This is Castiel acknowledging the allure of hedonism for the first time (…not minding the timewarp of 5.04, which didn’t happen Because AU.)

And here, also 9.03, before meeting April CASTIEL is once again wandering through the noise and the people. He is trying to take everything in – he glances from a hot dog stand to a woman’s breasts to a supermarket. The whole place is noisy and crowded and confusing. He is overwhelmed.

In 9.03, among this onslaught of Castiel’s change in visual, sound, sensory, and other instinctual acknowledgment of a change in the senses (see back to the 3Fold Nature and the acquisition of a human soul), we also get Castiel rubbernecking at a woman’s chest for the first time, before encountering April; the transcript doesn’t do the moment proper justice with the pure level of focus directors and editors called to it. In fact, we get slow camera pan and a rubberneck that might as well have ended with him walking-flipping into a trashcan blindside.

With all of these stacked connotations aside, I find it difficult to interpret anything but it being installed as a yet-again evocation of a difference in function.

Episodes 1 and 3, the first two episodes Castiel is in during season 9 after losing his grace at the end of season 8, DELUGE us with a current of differences of all of his sensory faculties.

Once his state is “corrected,” (for lack of a better term - Castiel seems to yearn for his humanity back through the show) the show makes a point of showing us a reversal as applicable,

SAM What? What are you talking about? CASTIEL When I was human, you know, I had to eat constantly. It was kind of annoying. SAM Yeah, a lot of human things are pretty annoying. CASTIEL But…I enjoyed the taste of food – particularly peanut butter with grape jelly, not jam. Jam I found unsettling. SAM [sitting on the table next to CASTIEL] So, what? Now you can’t taste PB and J? CASTIEL No, I-I taste every molecule. SAM Not the sum of its parts, huh? CASTIEL It’s overwhelming. It’s disgusting. [looks longingly at the sandwich] I miss you, PB and J.

Once again, paradigm shift. What he once appreciated, amidst the VAST wash of senses they told us about, just seems… null now. Something is missing, and something is different. Again, the universe can no longer experience ITSELF.

Now, I’m going to fall back a bit to cover what would possibly be framed as an argument against all of this, but frankly builds into it,

Back in season 6, Meg was UNABASHEDLY FLIRTING WITH CASTIEL and trying to prompt him to “move some furniture around,” and, in a learned “last night on earth” move, Castiel makes a motion in 6.10

Meg grabs Castiel by the neck and kisses him, at the same time removing his sword. Castiel pushes her up against the wall and returns the kiss with interest. MEG: What was that? CASTIEL: I learned that from the pizza man.

NOTICE. LEARNED THAT.

With FORWARD PROMPTING from Meg, and existing example (porn), Castiel did in fact make a move. That is to say, “learned behaviors” and “personal orientation” beyond “species reproductive instinct”. But as made clear by April, this never led anywhere particular, never completed, and while he expressed wanting repeats with April during being human, this is the only actual example we have of it.

In short: throughout the show, Castiel finds new things and tests new things. These new things become bizarre little childlike obsessions at times even. This one… obviously a little less childlike. (clears throat) But again, this is a process of “learned motion.” (though I’m somewhat disturbed that canonically Emmanuel-Cas sees her face and is absolutely horrified at her appearance, meaning this is also not likely even by nature of physical/spiritual attraction as much as personal, almost a demisexual trait with experimental curiosity which, as an independent idea beyond “holy shit she’s a demon”, is a healthy phase.)

But by way of learned motion/acquired taste and function, we then have the question of “why doesn’t Cas repeat this if he clearly enjoyed season 9?” Well, I can name a few. We can go over the fact that Cas simply doesn’t explore social venues that make it ready. Or we can mention his seeming lack of compulsion for it which ...is a topic of this post. Or we can simply reflect to the *challenges* of hedonism and what it will, in this post, continue to implicitly adventure as the cage and trappings of the human body and experience within what we call “life”, which the human soul extends well beyond.

But it leads us to an interesting series of questions about Castiel and Dean’s seemingly changed interactions in season 12, on a subliminal level.

And no, I’m not implying they’re boning. When Dean is no longer getting strung across a variety of cosmic elements to save him directly from the crosshairs of, or from himself, we’re getting this weird vibe of gruff jealousy, bickering, and infighting. As if Castiel, settling in more among them, is channeling increased humanity. Despite being an angel in some crippled capacity still, personality traits acquired from his human period are still there, leading to believe the soul element never ENTIRELY disappeared, as much as with further ding-dang-donged up grace, we have to wonder - is this almost a sliding scale? Or can both run mutually when one doesn’t overshadow the other? The exact specifics of this mechanic would be unclear.

But all of these complexities is why I find it nearly impossible to, in my head, reduce it to the simple “well some like it and-” because I have always read an intentional base-beat of differentiation between the human and angelic experience including, but not limited to, sex.

There’s a subtle hint of some osmosis of this in what I mentioned above with Hannah. “Perhaps I’ve been with them too long.”

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

And so why I find it impossible to just address “angel sexuality” as its own topic. This may just be my brain at work, but I don’t see all of this effort in dividing their experiences, in a show that addresses theology and concepts like the human soul, to be arbitrary and random and I just see SO much beautiful complexity IN the shift of his sexual behaviors, among other operations. It’s not just about Castiel’s sexuality, it’s about addressing the complex creatures that are humans, and what builds us at a core. Frankly, from that end, it doesn’t matter if Cas is bi, ace, straight or pan – Castiel has been human, and wants to be so again. And it, along with other things littered throughout the show, have given us great insights on the soul, or the lack thereof, and all of these beautiful building blocks.

And so to roll away from approaching sexuality so heavily, and instead ball and bundle that up as part of the human experience within the body, the reflection of the human soul, I hook again: The universe can not experience itself more than Windows OS can experience itself; it requires the essence of man to experience the result of the work of grace and by which it finds many things of itself, even within the trappings of a human life.

The fact that humans are afterwards caged elsewhere is a whole other discussion me and others have been holding in the original linked post, so let's step away from that and instead go back to the concept of, far and away beyond sexuality, what makes a soul, and how is it different from the created universe.

If we were to apply these concepts -- angels, bodies of grace, as parts of the universe and how it functions -- versus the irrevocable free will fundamental to the human soul, dividing bodies from just being roving parts of the construct like Gabriel's realms -- to our dialogue in regards to Castiel as our seeming oddball with a crack in his chassis, "And the universe came to humanity, and laid hands on humanity, and fell in love with humanity to come to know it; it abandoned its own purpose and functions due to this connection to the concept of the human soul, and began to live and dream and love as a man, rebelling against its predesigned function; and one day, the orphic child of both the universe and man looked through the eyes of the universe to first see man, and itself was born from the universe unto man, to live and learn as a man and hold its dominion of both human sovereignty and creator of grace, mastering both realms." in regards to Jack's very creation, and why he is such a huge threat to Chuck's power and control of his realm.

As a powerful creature of grace, he can take and reroute those elements without issue by authoritative command of the independent liberty of the human soul, free thinking and not just a Doctor Sexy Nurse in motion.

But the question is conversion, which we've seen in both directions, be it Castiel acquiring a human soul or Jack converting humans into angels with his command of both of these dominions. The best I could liken it to is AC/DC energy conversion. It is worth noting, however -- grace can be drained without permission, it is not tied to freedom. Humanity is the body of choice: be that humans choosing to surrender that in the name of glory and power to simply become part of universal functions, which isn't so different from choosing to burn one's own soul away in the name of spells, magic or other power; or the human spirit attached to its cage of a body and life still needing to concede and give permission to be taken BY the forces of the universe, surrendering the potential impact of their own choices within their own moving cage to what the universe would will of it.

Ironically, if you use an AC inverter to power a computer or television, the power supply in the device is converting the 120-volt alternating current into a much lower voltage direct current. The sensitive electronic circuits in these devices need low, regulated voltages to work, so you're actually converting DC to AC so it can be changed back into DC again. You can't use straight direct current without the AC to DC inverter because the device's power supply needs the AC power in order to properly step down and regulate the voltage. That is to say, in conversion parts are lost, but they can still be transmitted; so while Castiel was subject to the human experience, he still struggled with parts like dreaming. It was a young, small spark of a soul, converted from another energy form, and likely with his connection to Dean acting as the inverter.

Demons go to the empty; demons are former human souls that corrupted and lost the light that made them inherently "good." That which defines them. They have collapsed to the pressures of Chuck's universes and let their flame go out. But realistically, that's also antagonized by other human souls in hell trying to escape their own torment.

It has been seen, time and again, that the only thing that can destroy a human soul is... the human soul.

*takes a breath*

And now to explore what @curioussubjects has been saying about The Shadow as a recycling Bin of souls, which would predate the universe and even Chuck, I simply repeat this segment, to help master-off this post:

If we take the Shadow as the reflection of the collective soul, which then becomes the substantiative Prima Materia through which all things come (x), including even the potential of Chuck and Amara as manifestations of the primitive concept of masculine and feminine, light and dark as among the first thoughts in the cosmos. But in such by it all things are born, even the universe or the gods, in this proposed theory. It is the primitive self asking (per the far-above chart), first–well, WTF, why am I thinking, but after that – who are they, and then who am I, and then eventually who are you, before the end of the soul’s journey on its path is Who Art Thou, long ventured within the constructed realm to learn what it means that we even exist.

Those first thoughts then create the totemic pillars of creation by which it can explore the very meaning of existence, even if its own thoughts have made cages and trappings for itself in the expansion of infinite time, but those cages are themselves the vehicles of higher learning and experience, and without those cages, the rest is for naught.

This is the nature of the Prima Materia, the One Thing by which all comes which I linked above. If the soul and Prima Materia are synonymous, then while the universe comes by grace, then all things -- even grace -- come by way of the raw template of the collective soul, which then structures all resulting thought and experience through an infinite series of independent human experience that defines who were are, independent to ourselves, beyond the vat of primitive consciousness that binds us.

The question even comes, why not just reset time? But I am good with who I am. I am good with who you are. This isn't just a story. It's our lives. So god or no god, you go to hell.

And so the reincarnate journey of the man, through the many deaths and rebirths of Sam and Dean and lessons gained within the universe, begins to lock on to the meaning of the independent self in what it means in full, beyond the challenges sent by the creator that may very well be a reflection of our own primal thoughts, our doubts, our fears, our internalized challenges not too unlike the Shadow which again I raise, and point back to the above-linked protogenic discussion of the masculine and feminine paths: In this premise, are Chuck and Amara anything less than the Animus and Anima of humanity, should the Shadow be their forefather?

The path of alchemy, before it became pursuit of literal gold, was about self completion and sovereignty. The phases I have listed above, as well as a brief overview of Dabb's use of it, but if anyone wants a visual aide in these, check out these three videos (x) (x) (x) and remember that Chuck desperately wants them to believe that nothing Gold can stay, should it complete this path; because should man become Gold, they also become God, and he has no authority here. Because in the end, if we abandon the cages -- be it human bodies or heaven -- in here, in this headspace that is Chuck's, we're all just projections of the primitive man trying to find our independent meaning in life. So in here, we're all the same. So in here, Chuck's all talk. And Chuck's afraid, and even wounded by elements of his own creation fallen into the free hands of man.

And so to FULLY hook back, the effects of the fall --

To be detached in various tiers from the divine spheres of constructed intent, and surrendered unto man, or touched by man, or tied to man, or even converted unto man simply seems to be removing the lines of code that defines the constructed universe and instead leaves only the experience of soul, be it directly gained or by proxy. And with that comes many things -- be that the oft-discussed sexuality of angels or any of their other senses, but also their ability like Castiel to understand "complex" ideas like independent thought and function that is otherwise like "explaining poetry to fish" to his kin. I remind you of Agent Smith in the Matrix, who was essentially infected with the power of the One that completely started warping the laws of the universe and, eventually, left the universe, to become the body of man outside of the universe.

It is the universe falling into man, as man at some point seems to have fallen into the universe. And their child now waits beyond the universe, holding council with Death and the Inky Man over what to do from here.

The human experience is double-sided. By it we learn, experience, and exist; but as chuck designed the sandbox, so too did he the bodies as cages. So be that "hedonism" or anything else, these are limitations and bindings. It is not the limits themselves, as much as what we learn in facing them, that becomes who we are as people, and what meaning we bring to our own existence. And this, some angels themselves have chosen to convert and surrender themselves to, some more successfully than others, but the ultimate point between all of them is "Free Will", whether they like PBJ, sex, or good water pressure at the same time -- something that only comes from divorcing themselves from the divine spheres, when otherwise they're numb to bullets or a knife through the heart. The universe simply operates. Man experiences. The universe learns more of itself only by way of man, as man learns the universe.

There are those who fall that do not embrace humanity, but instead explore their creation. These are rogue programs, but still limited in their function. Be that angling out a line at a river, or just needling humanity as lesser ants. But these do not come to the same essence of humanity that those who choose to fall into it and truly experience it do. They still lack a great deal of motivation or purpose, as in breaking away from their programming without gaining genuine compulsion to want, to seek, to find, they find fascinations between their own strips of code that immerse themselves in, and sit, and observe, still not too unlike Anna before completely divorcing herself from her grace.

It is humanity, be it indirect or direct, that proxies the ability to experience, desire, and enjoy, and that more than anything is the nature of man and his power. It is the path of the Soul between Gevurah and Hesed; from the divine spheres descending, passive intellect and active intellect from the different pillars, and hidden higher learnings, reach by way of Spirit and Mind towards the individual self, strapped across passive and active emotion to learn the individual self. From the angle of man, in the material world, and the body as a manifestation of it, our ego, identity, and other evolutions of the mind TOWARDS the self of individuality lead from Tiferet, by path of the soul, into those emotions to climb the tree towards the divine self. Hell, I'll repost the chart so you don't have to scroll.

Castiel, the consciousness of the divine, with active spirit and mind, and intellect, descended towards the individual self within the realm of ego and super ego, and learned of them through Dean Winchester, while hedging at the sphere of emotional complexes and the identity of the self by which he chose to fall into the world and humanity, into and below and between the cross paths of the soul, and in those paths attained a soul. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, was lifted to explore the upper spheres in reverse, to understand the divine self gradually, and with time, as we now prepare to face within season 15.

Man is freedom. And some fall into it. But man can conquer the tree of his own ironic fashioning. The only absolute is what thou wills of it.

The rest is commentary.

Let there be gold. But all that is gold does not glimmer.

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #mine #pagan life #souls #angels #the fall #tree of life #spirit #mind #body #physical realm #hermeticism #qabbalah

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mikenewtonhateblog · 4 years

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My oc’s aka too long of a gd post

The “BL” Crew (does not stand for boys love I’m just a moron who made that abbreviation before knowing what it stands for). My main crew and main series, a lot is a big WIP right now as I’m slowly redoing the first book and all the lore. Why? I love torture. Book is fantasy type but I won’t specify what.

Lacie, the protagonist. God tier idiot, bisexual bipolar depressed MESS, insomniac, former theater kid, doesn’t know what she wants out of life but currently it is not This(plot of book). Hot headed, impulsive, crude, rude, Mommy IssuesTM, would rather be taking a nap right now, rules are made to be broken, absolutely fucking FERAL, more bags under her eyes than the airport lost and found. 5’5, 130lbs, Aries, age 18, white as shit like literally the whitest human you have ever seen, strawberry blonde hair in a 2011 Hayley Willaims haircut with long bangs, the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen that stare directly into your soul. Lanky, no curves, body of a 12 year old boy but works out so she can and will kick your ass and thats a threat. Not human?

Josh. Soft boy, smart, Lacie’s cousin and only friend for like the first 18 years of her life, autistic anxious mess who’s special interest is anchient egyptian history, is in honors classes, despises math, passes out when his girlfriend looks too cute, just needs a hug. Can eat a whole carton of easy mac if left alone, whole wardobe is the same outfit just different colors/hoodies, sensory issues, seriously can someone give this guy a hug. 5’9, 150lbs, Pisces, age 18, mixed (half whatever flavor of white Lacie’s family is [they don’t even know its just some scandanavian shit and irish], and half mexican on his mom’s side), medium olive skin with freckles and moles, dark chocolate brown hair that’s a bit of a 2009 Beiber cut, warm brown eyes, not beefy, a lil thicc and self concious about it but squishy boys are GOOD. Gets bit by a werewolf so now he is one his mood on it is “thats a lot to unpack but let’s just throw the whole suitcase away”.

Zander. There is not one braincell in this man, himbo KING, pansexual dumbass with undiagnosed ADHD, no impulse control, head empty and full at the same time, PTSD, his fashion sense should be an actual crime, gets in fights to feel something, basic requirements for him to be attracted to you: kick his ass. Drinks his respect women juice, sees a folding table and must immediately launch himself on it, chaotic, cannot drive a car and will not, food aggression and eats enough for 3 people but never gains weight which is ILLEGAL, him and Lacie may be a couple.....but in this house we stan slow burn, he talks in caps and every sentence either ends with a question mark or exclaimation point, likes romcoms. 6’2, 190lbs, Sagittarius, age 19, austrailian roots and has the accent but is from [REDACTED FOR STORY REASONS], white, dorito shaped with long legs, blueish black hair that’s long and messy, dark navy eyes that match his hair, bigass neck scar from [REDACTED]. Not human

Peter. Gay dad friend who is TIRED of having to be in charge of a bunch of teenagers, only one with full functioning braincells, lowkey a genius who loves engineering, mixes magical technology with human technology because he likes to play god, is he ever sober? No one knows, will kill for a bottle of single malt, his fashion sense? Tastefully expensive suits perfectly tailored. Likes building his own weapons that no one else knows how to even use, generally non-threatening but can get scary if needed. 6’4, 140lbs string bean man, Scorpio, age 179 but looks early 30s, I know I said Lacie is the whitest human but he’s even paler like a literal sheet of paper with scandanavian roots/ancestors were vikings or some shit, blonde hair styled like 2013 Brendon Urie lmfao, light crystal blue eyes. He’s a vampire and was born one.

Danielle. Tiny, sweet, queen of girls supporting girls, comments on all her friends instagram posts with 20 emojis, LOVES fashion and has a wardrobe that would make anyone jealous, oozes feminine energy, only child and parents are in love still, gets exactly 8 hours of sleep each night and wakes up looking like a disney princess. Just because she is small and cute doesn’t mean you should underestimate her she WILL fuck your shit up. Quiet when angey which is terrifying. Josh is her bf and she loves him so much but also loves teashing the shit out of him. Legally cannot cuss, polite, used her high heels as a weapon once, speaks like 5 languages because studying them is her hobby, gardens, hugs everyone. 5’0, 110, Taurus, age 18, mixed (half french-american, half Korean-american), glowy skin always, PETITE frame aka the friend everyone can pick up when they hug, long past her waist curly brown hair, bright green eyes. She’s not fully human as she has fae blood in her and this gives her the ability to talk to and control plants. Flower crowns for everyone

Becca. Theater kid who would die to sing in Wicked and has the vocal range to do so, cannot wait to graduate and go to her dream college which she got into and a scholarship, closeted lesbian bc her whole giant family is extremely catholic and she feels like not dealing with it, “no boys allowed in bedroom” rule is her favorite joke, chill, middle child of 5 siblings and just wants some peace and quiet for ONCE. Her fashion sense is “I’m dropping subtle hints I’m gay but only to other gays”, has a black belt and took self defense classes. 5’6, 145lbs, Virgo, age 18, Latina (cuban and mexican mix), darker brown skin with light freckles over her nose, athletic build, eyebrows on POINT, bright caramel eyes, short light brown hair cut in a bob, has a tiny nose stud, always wears a blue friendship bracelet her gf made her. Human

Anika. Calling her a bitch/slut is a compliment, bisexual, a bit of a mean girl but she grows out of it give her time!!! Is always Too Much, the horny friend, favorite color is red so thats almost all of her outfits, loves to show off her body as much as she can because she’s hot and knows it and thrives in her own confidence. Her mom is literally like Regina George’s mom from Mean Girls but married a rich man 20 years older than her, Anika doesn’t know her bio dad but thats fine neither does her mom and her step dad is nice and does his best to be a dad. Becca’s gf, always hanging out at her home so Becca can get some quiet because Anika’s an only child and has a pool. 5’9, 135lbs, Gemini, age 18, white, long layered dark reddish brown hair, teal-blue eyes, swimmers body type (I normally do not mention bust size but she would want the internet to know she was blessed with big bahoogles so there you go), can sprint in heels. Half mermaid (boy was that a surprise considering her mom doesn’t know who her father is LOL)

Rex. Nb uses they/them he/him pronouns but honestly will respond to any, goth lite, only attracted to men and ace, can read minds so knows all your secrets, mischevious little shit, great friends with Zander and enjoys his dumbass thoughts and that he’s basically a human version of Jackass, wears too many rings, goth boots for kicking and fashion babey, always has the freshest memes and will not hesitate to roast in the group chat, hangs with the girls most of the time. Chaos god who loves making art, be gay do crime, skateboard and spraypaint. 5’8”, 165lbs, Leo, age 18, Native American, masculine frame, dark brown skin, blue eyes, firetruck red shoulder length hair that’s usually in a ponytail, knock-off gucci sunglasses just for judging their friends. Has magic in their blood so not entirely human and can cast spells and shit (don’t roast me its a wip and I’m doing my research)

Sam. Boho goddess, aromantic, makeup and nails are always instagram worthy, quiet and stoic type but losens up around close friends, Rex is her best friend, has some trauma and doesn’t want to talk about it, emotionally numbed out a bit and wants to purely vibe. Has seen some of the worst parts of humanity and wishes she hadn’t, finds no point in being bitter or resentful though because that won’t change anything, loves cats and once she moves out shes adopting one or three. Has wine aunt energy. 5’4, 200lbs PLUS SIZE QUEEN, Scorpio, age 18, Filipino (her parents are immigrants fun fact!), really olive skin sometimes has a grey/green tinge to it, dark brown almost black shoulder length hair, gold-hazel eyes. Sam’s the victim of a family curse that requires her to consume human hearts to survive, she can transform into a pretty scary looking being and uses this curse to hunt down pedoph*les, r*pists, murderers, and abusers. The less often she feeds the less human she looks, hence the constant grey/green tinge to her skin.

Andy. Baby of the group, must be protected at all costs, 100% didn’t sign up to be in a friendgroup of 90% monsters but highkey loves it, trans, bi, anxiety MAXED, just wants to draw comics and cosplay spiderman, has to babysit his two younger sisters a lot because his parents are....not great, and as a result now knows all the lines to Tangled and The Little Mermaid. Big nerd energy, has to draw on everything including homework, gets inspiration for comics from his friends, awkward and socially anxious, drinks way too much tea and will accidentally steal your pens. Fears include: crowds, thunder, tall angry men, tiny spaces. Just trying his best. 5’2, 100lbs BEANPOLE BOY, Leo, age 16, white (irish and scottish roots), freckles absolutely EVERYWHERE, orangey red hair thats in desperate need of a haircut, chocolate brown eyes, braces, chronic nail biter. Human and kinda wishes he wasn’t.

That’s it for now if you read all this bless u thank u here is my whole heart. Please no discourse, literally these are fictional people I’ll never publish the books they go to.

#no i am not looking for critiques on them #i get my critiques elsewhere lmao #my ocs

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iamdeltas · 4 years

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X, T and K?

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM This depends a lot on what I’m focused on at the moment (also, not all my faves count. Generally if I feel like a fave character has enough fans to defend them or whatever, I’m not gonna feel like I need to defend them. For instance, Elsa. Does Elsa have her haters? Sure. But she’s also crazy popular, so who cares if a few people hate her? That’s why she’s not on this list, even if I do like her.) but here goes, not in order tbh, just off the top of my head: Kamala Khan, always my girl, I adore her so much and I saw a post one day talking shit about her and I wanted to throttle OP. Anyway. Kamala is the best. I cannot wait for her MCU debut. Cassandra, from Tangled: the Series. I adored Cass right from the start, and of course, right from the start, I saw people shitting on her for, IDK, daring to *gasp* not like Eugene, I guess? Wow. So yeah, I’ll die defending Cass, she’s the best, even if she made some bad choices in s3 but hey. Who hasn’t stolen an ancient powerful artifact and gotten manipulated by a demonic Eldritch being, amirite? Della Duck, from Ducktales. I adore Della, she’s such an interesting and complex character who has made her fair share of mistakes but is also trying her best. The whole discourse post-”Timephoon” really showed me that she’s a character I’d die defending as well because holy shit were people shitting all over her for... daring to ground Louie, her son, for literally causing a spacetime disaster because he wanted to make money. Sigh. Anyway. I adore Della. Anna of Arendelle, from Frozen. Oh, Anna. So many people just flat out ignore you in favor of your sister, which is so unfair. Anna is wonderful and determined and optimistic and honestly such a badass? Like that (sadly deleted) scene said, her love could hold up the world. (Fun fact, part of the reason I desperately wanted my brain to get off the Frozen traintrack it was, ah, frozen on from June 2019 to January 2020 was because it resulted in me fixating on how much people flat out do not care about Anna, which wasn’t a fun time!) I am very glad she gets to be part of the bridge with Elsa but am sadly unsurprised that people continue to ignore that and just insist that it’s only Elsa who’s the Powerful, Wonderful, Most Amazing Fifth Spirit. Anna who? Granted, the movie could have emphasized that it’s Elsa and Anna who are the Fifth Spirit, together, but still.

Alex Danvers, from Supergirl. Still my favorite character on the show! I don’t think she gets bashed as much as mostly just ignored? (I’d say poor Kara gets the brunt of the bashing. It’s very sad.) Unless Lena stans get confronted with the fact that their fave is doing some highly Unethical Things, then they start pointing to Alex for some reason and start saying, Yeah Well, Alex Works For A Shady Government Organization, So Who’s The *Real* Bad Guy Here? (Me: ....it’s still Lena, but go off, I guess.) I guess I just generally relate to her overwhelming Big Sister-ness and the high pressure she puts on herself because what a Mood, amirite? I feel that whole, anxiety that your parents will be disappointed in you because I feel that every day! I also adore how dedicated she is and how smart she is (something the fandom and the show often seem to ignore...) Connie Maheswaran, from Steven Universe. She’s the best! And she was totally the MVP of Steven Universe: Future, telling off all the Gems for making Steven’s problems about them because that was the last thing Steven needed! She’s practical and smart but at the same time so adventurous and brave and willing to stand up to protect the Earth! It’s very admirable. Steven Universe, from... you know. I’ve always liked Steven but I think Future gave me a greater appreciation for this kid. This poor kid has had to grow up so fast and basically play therapist for his Gem moms as well as for Gems who literally tried to kill him multiple times. His compassion is so admirable but wow did it result in him putting himself last! I have a soft spot for these types of characters, the characters who care so much about other people that they forget to care about themselves. (Alex Danvers is in this category also.) I know some people got mad about his downward spiral in Future, but honestly the complaints just strike me as being mad that Steven dares to have his own problems as opposed to being the Happy Boy Therapist Who Fixes Everyone Else’s Problems And Has Zero Problems Of His Own. Martha Jones, from Doctor Who. Oh, Martha Jones, you’re a star. I had a group of college friends who I watched Doctor Who with back in the day, and they hated Martha. (Most notable exchange: one of said friends saying that she thought Martha was just “too smart” to be relatable. Said friend was a physics major.) I hope the Martha hate has cooled down now because Martha always deserves so much appreciation. She had to put up with so much in s3 (incidentally, I think about s3 sometimes and I wonder why the fuck 10 is my favorite Doctor. Honestly, he’s such a dick in s3. Martha Deserved Better.), and I’m so glad she was able to be one of the few companions in NuWho with a nontraumatic exit. I hope she’s living her best life, wherever she might be now. Ninth Doctor, from Doctor Who. Gosh I love Nine. Those same college friends who hated Martha also told me to skip s1, and I’m very glad I did not listen to them. I’ve always liked Jerks with Hearts of Gold, and Nine definitely is that! I just adore how while he had such a gruff and battle-scarred demeanor, he was so sweet and genuinely kind. He’s a puppy in a leather jacket! And not only can he be genuinely soft and sweet, but he’s also just so silly sometimes? Absolutely not what you’d expect from his general appearance but he can be quite a goofball! I love that for him! And while I may not like Doctor/Rose as a ship (honestly I just don’t tend to like Doctor/companion ships at all), his relationship with Rose was so sweet. I also just enjoy that, underneath all the weariness and the surface-level cynicism, he is actually very optimistic. Twelfth Doctor, honestly, same deal as Nine. I’m very annoyed with people who dismiss him as being the Grumpy Doctor because he’s just so genuinely kind and compassionate? He might genuinely be one of the most compassionate Doctors I’ve ever seen. He even extends kindness to his worst enemies. There’s something really beautiful about that. Being kind, even when it might ultimately backfire on you and might not even work, because why not try? He’s just a punk rock grandpa trying his best, how can you hate that? He’s got some sick guitaring skills btw. He should join a band. (I know Peter Capaldi is in a band, so that just makes me want 12 to be in a band even more.) Sometimes I think there should be a band in the Whoniverse made up of some of the Doctor’s regens but then I get stuck on who’d be in it besides 12. Maybe 2 can be in it, with his weird flute thing. Anyway. His relationship with Clara was great (mostly because of how destructive and codependent it was lmao) but I just genuinely adore his connection with Bill. I’m always here for found family, and Bill being 12′s Earth granddaughter just warms my heart so much! Thirteenth Doctor, but actually the opposite deal of Nine and Twelve. I once saw a post saying that most Doctors can be split into one of two categories: grump with a heart of gold or charming goofball with a dark side. And, despite the two characters I just listed being in the former category, I think I tend to prefer the latter? Mostly because I see plenty of Jerks With Hearts of Gold but I feel like I don’t see as many heroic charming goofballs with a dark side. Anyway, that’s absolutely what 13 is, and I appreciate the layers that she has and am constantly annoyed at people who only see her surface level cheeriness and think that’s all there is to her. I really love it when characters Aren’t What They Seem and 13 exemplifies that. To borrow a phrase from a post I saw a very long time ago, 13 is so facile. She’s so physical, taking up so much space and constantly moving, but is so touch-averse. She talks so much and is very friendly, but is incredibly emotionally constipated and keeps even her so-called best friends at an arms length. She talks a lot about hope and compassion, but boy can she be hella violent and feral! Love That For Her. T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything) Oh absolutely. Off the top of my head: Cassandra is a lesbian. And that’s that on that. 13 is touch-averse! (Also stop yelling that she needs a hug! She doesn’t want one! It’s okay to not want hugs, that’s not a crime!) Alex can cook. Cooking isn’t even that hard? K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms Ooh, this is hard cuz there are a lot of people in any of my fandoms that I feel like I can say nice things about! Let’s go with Supergirl since I’ve been neglecting that fandom a lot. Uh. I adore @wizardofahz ‘s fics about the Superfam! I’m always craving more gen fic and she delivers! I love her characterizations of everyone, especially her characterizations of Alex and Kara.

#s answers asks #cauldronofmorning

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celestica-1988 · 5 years

Text

My Heroine

Nikki Sixx The Dirt! x Female Reader.

Warning: smut

You waited for this night for months.

You took the ticket as soon as it was available and you kept it as a treasure: your precious Mötley Crüe concert ticket.

You weren’t disappointed, the guys did their best to give the crowd a memorable show and they didn’t fail.

During those two hours you sang, screamed, jumped and moshed as it was the last night of your life. Even now, in the parking of the arena, in the frozen New York November you felt some warmth in your heart.

At some point someone started to scream that the band was going to the bus and you ran like the others, luckily there weren’t many people so the Crüe had some times to talk and joke with the fans.

When it was your turn you hugged Tommy, Vince and Mick, they were all relaxed, Nikki was different. It was like he didn’t know what to do when someone hug him, but after some seconds he hugged you tightly.

They all signed your notebook and you waved at them together with the others fans.

You moved towards the metro looking at the autographs, considering of getting them tattooed or not, when you see a small note by Nikki.

“Come to my room, it’s the 66 at 6th floor.” You froze.

Was it true? Can you really go to the address of the hotel?

What if it was just a game?

You weren’t a common girl, you were a fat one. The nature didn’t bless you with height, but with an enormous belly, gross thigh and short legs. You weren’t pretty and all the people in elementary, middle school and highschool took remember you it as a job. Not a day passed since someone insulted you, hurted you and someone even beated you.

Yea, you had two wonderful blue eyes, but the world didn’t care for your eyes or sweet soul, all that mattered was your body and your was so ugly you considered suicide more than one time.

Was Nikki message another way to remind you that you were a fat ass, ugly and unlovable girl?

Could you trust him?

No, you couldn’t, because, after all, you didn’t know him, but you decided to go the same. If you didn’t you would probably kick your ass for missing such a chance for all the rest of your life.

The hotel wasn’t too far away so you walked to it and when you saw it you were amazed, it was a very expensive one. You stepped in the hall and you felt like Cinderella going to the ball, just your prince wasn’t a prince at all. You looked for the elevator and reached the six floor, once you were out of the machine a man wearing a black suit stopped you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. But the sixth floor is reserved for Mötley Crüe.”

“I’m here to meet Nikki Sixx.”

You said with the more firm voice you can find.

“Can you show me an invitation or something?”

You got a bit irritated, but then remember that he was used to girls who tried to sneak in without permission. You handed him the note and he read it carefully.

“Ok, you can go. But, please, be careful.” You nodded and walk till the door with a 66 in it, uncertain you knocked a couple of times. Nikki opened the door and smiled.

“Come in, dude.” You obey and looked at the messy room.

“You know my name, but what’s yours? I don’t like calling people dude for the whole night.”

“My name is Y/N.” You answered smiling.

“So, how was the concert tonight?” You started telling him how beautiful and funny and like if it was a dream come true.

He smiles happily so you chatted till when you see a wound still bleeding on Nikki arm’s. You stopped talking.

“Whats up, Y/N?” “Why are you hurt?”

You gestured at the wound.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I broke a Jack Daniels bottle and one of the pieces cuts me.”

“Where the first aid kit?” “In the bathroom, I think.” You went to look for it and when you find it you came back to Nikki.

“Stretch the arm, please.” “Ok.” You removed the blood, disinfects the wound and then made a little bandage.

“Wow, thank you! It’s the first time that someone got worried and treat my wounds!”

His voice was genuinely surprised.

“I’m studying to become a nurse.” You smiled to ease the tension, but the air in the room was changed and there was nothing you could do about it. He was looking at you in a way that screamed sex, but also with something that show a need for affection, your breath became deeper, totally aware that your bodies were close.

It was the time for the discourse and you hated it, but you had to protect yourself. “Listen, I know I’m not here to just chat.” You winked towards the bed.

“So, I have a question to ask you and, please, be real.”

You breathed heavily.

“Do you wanna fuck me because I’m nice or interesting, whatever or because you made a bet with your friends? Like I give you 100 dollars if you fuck the fat ass.

Because if it is the first situation I’m totally fine with it, but if it is the second situation let’s stop here and say goodbye.” Nikki look was confused.

“No, I don’t wanna fuck you for a stupid bet. I’m not at highschool anymore.”

“Then kiss me.” You smiled at him, reassured.

The kiss was not sweet or gentle, it was rough and full of passion, his hands were everywhere and your were tangled in his hair. Soon the clothes were all over the room and you were moaning under his touch, he was sucking your neck. Tomorrow you would have many hickeys to hide, but so him. You felt electricity every time his big hand caressed you next to the thigh. You screamed when he slowly started to rub your clit.

“So wet for me.” He whispered.

You give a little squeeze to his boxer.

“So hard for me.” Something animalistic passed through his eyes and suddenly you find yourself giving him the back, he kissed your spine and your ass and then, with one form thrust he entered you. You had no time to adjust, still you were dripping with pleasure, moaning and screaming.

“Be loud for me, angel.” He caressed your hair after minutes of pulling them to give you the right rhythm.

“Is it okay, angel? Am I too rough?

Sex is fun just if we both enjoy it.” You weren’t used to such rough se, but you liked it and you liked even more that your partner worried about you.

“I’m fine. Fuck, I’ve never been better.” He kissed your neck and keep thrust.

“Y/N, you’re tight!”

He moaned.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” “Me… to…” You exhale with the last breaths.

You were floating somewhere around the room, pleasure took you away and made you feel so special.

When you came back to earth you noticed Nikki between your legs with a smirk.

“What?”

“Sh! Just enjoy, love.

You’ve been so good.” You heard stories about how the bassist likes to eat out his female partners, but, fuck, you didn’t think he was so good. His tongue moves with expert movement in your most sensible spot and he rubbed a thumb around your clit that you were about to beg him to finger you.

But he did and the waves of pleasure took away another time.

“You taste good.” You looked at Nikki with a faint smile, you were happy and tired at the same time.

“And you meet all the expectation. I can’t even breathe.” He laughed and he laid next to you.

You look for your panties and put up a Nikki’s tee when he grabbed your fist.

“Where are you going?” “Isn’t how it work? You fucked me and now we say goodbye.” “Come here.” He patted the space next him.

“You aren’t going anywhere tonight.” His voice was sleepy and he curled up against you, with an arm through your stomach.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

“Goodnight, Nikki.” And you both felt asleep.

You woke up feeling a nice warmth. During the night Nikki changed position and you were laying over his chest.

You would never leave that room, you would like that moment lasted forever.

Unluckily it happened, Vince opened wide the room’s door, startling both of you.

“You did it, old bastard!”

He threw 200 dollars on the bed.

“I did what?” “You fucked the fat ass!”

You froze.

“No, Y/N is not what it seems…” You slapped him.

“You’re a liar, fucking piece of shit!”

You got up, wore your jeans and shoes and slapped Vince with all your strength.

“Fucking moron, fuck you, jerk!” “We are you fave band, sweetie, you can’t …” “Fuck off, you aren’t my favorite band anymore.” You stormed out the room and almost knocked down Tommy.

“Are you okay?

Do you want me to call you a taxi?” “I have no money.” “I’ll pay for you.” “Well, thanks then.” You and him reached the hall, found an empty cab, you told the taxi driver your address, Tommy paid and you were finally away from that nightmare. Tears started to fall, you felt used and violated, you felt a piece of trash.

No more sex with rockstars.

You said to yourself.

Doesn’t matter how hot, nice or kind they might appear.

You finished your vow.

New York seemed even colder than usual that morning and you just wanted to sleep and not exist for a while.

Luckily the taxi driver didn’t ask you why you were crying your heart out in you car.

You arrived at your flat complex and stumbled inside, the goddamned elevator was out of use so you used the stair till the last floor.

You opened the door and collapsed on the couch, crying yourself to sleep.

You were awakened from strong knocks at the door, you took a baseball bat and carefully opened the door.

It was Nikki.

“What the fuck do you want?” You said sternly standing against the doorframe, your arms crossed on your chest with one hand whom still old the bat.

“Hi, Nikki. Nice to see ya. Wanna come in?” You flashed him a furious look.

“I won’t repeat. What do you want?” “I wanna talk to you.” “No need of it, your friend were clear enough.” “No, he wasn’t. It is not what it seems!”

“Say another cliché and I will use the bat mercilessly.”

“Listen. Ok, it’s true. I made a bet with Vince two days ago, the one who fucked a fat girl would win 200 dollars, but I was drunk as hell. I completely forget about it, I swear.

When I had sex with you it was because I like you not for the bet.”

Your hands clenched on the bat.

“Is it another bet now? How much this time?”

“No bet. I beat the shit out of Vince.

You are not like the others, you are my heroin!” Your eyes widened.

“What?” “When I use heroin I did because I feel the warmth that my mother couldn’t give me. When you hugged me, fix that wound and tonight I felt the same thing!”

He was desperate, but you were too hurt by the way it ended.

“You’re batshit crazy. Leave before I fucking beat the crap outta you!” You came back in your apartment and ignored the knocks, they stopped when your neighbor – a bodyguard – got rid of him.

You started to study, unable to do other things and you immersed yourself in the book.

At midnight you decided to have a break and ate something, Nikki was on the other side of the street under the snow.

Fuck him.

You ate a sandwich and then you started to study again.

The sun went down, but you stopped just around seven o’clock to prepare yourself a dinner. You watched out of the window and Nikki was still there, just lying in the sidewalk, unconscious.

The nurse in you kicked in: you open the door, climbed down the stairs and crossed the street. You touched his face: it was frozen. You looked for the pulse and you found it, but it was weak.

Without even thinking twice you carry the man on your shoulders and started move towards the house. It was partially your fault if he was almost frozen to death.

Dragging Nikki from the ground to the last floor wasn’t easy.

The elevator didn’t work again – did it ever work a day from when you lived there? – and the stairs seemed never-ending, but you did it.

You removed all his clothes – yes, also the underwear –, picked a towel and dry and massaged him to heat him up. Then you take some clothes that your ex left there and dressed Nikki and you dragged him in your room. You covered him with all the blankets you found and then you went to sleep on the couch.

It was a long day, you were dead tired.

At some point during the night, you felt the presence of someone next to you, you carefully opened your eyes and you almost screamed when you saw Nikki.

“It’s okay, I’m Nikki.”

Panting and feeling your heart beating faster you looked to him.

“What were you doing?” “Watching you sleep.” “Why the hell?” You were confused, hurt and clueless. The bet was over so why was he still lingering around you?

“I like you.” “As if.”

“Listen, Y/N, for all my life I never felt loved. Just a couple of time when I was a kid and Deana was nice with me. When it happened, I felt a warmth in my heart. Growing up I started to believe that I did not deserved love, so I looked only for sex. I found that warmth again in heroin, but, you know, on the long run it kills you slowly and painfully. It eats your brain.

Then you hugged me after the concert, you talked to me, took care of me and we had sex. I felt it again, the warmth.” “It was a bet.” “I already told you I forgot about it. Please, believe me.

When Vince came in and threw the money I would’ve liked to kill him. I beated him, because he ruined the first time I feel something for a girl.”

“Nikki, stop.

Don’t make it worse. You can’t love me: I’m a fatass, you will grow tired of my big body.” You tried to hold back the tears, but Nikki saw them.

“I love your body, there so much to hug and caress.”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to say.

You needed a moment to process that Nikki fucking Sixx almost froze to death to talk to you, to tell you that he liked you.

He fucking liked you.

“Do you really like me?”

“I think yes, I think I even love you, but I’m not good with feelings.” Your heart skipped more than one bit,

You were torn apart, one part of you yelled to forgive and kiss him, the other one to not trust him.

“How can I trust you again?

How can I be sure that you ae not joking?” “There is no way, Y(N. Just follow your heart.” You looked at him. He was sober, his eyes were sincere and he was nervous like a girl at her first date.

“I love you too.”

You whispered softly.

“But, please, don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t.” He lifted your chin with a long finger and kiss you slowly and gently, as you were both savor yourself.

He picked you up bridal style and he walked towards your room. He places slowly on the bed and then reached you, he was the big spoon, hugging tight from behind.

He kissed your neck.

“Goodnight, princess.

He said with a sleepy voice.

“Goodnight, rockstar.” You listened to him falling asleep and concentrate on how good you feel in Nikki arms.

They were like your house and you had no intentions to leave anytime soon.

#the dirt #the dirt fanfic #the dirt movie #nikki sixx #douglas booth #the dirt imagine

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fallout4reactsblog · 6 years

Note

What sort of internet users would the companions be? Like who's the sad nihilist meme shitposter, who has a youtube channel and what's it about, who has a pretentious inspirational quotes aesthetic blog, that sort of thing. Ellie, DiMA, and Father included just because I think it would be amusing.

Ada runs a general mental health and wellness blog, dedicated to helping people manage their mental illness as well as just general tips for staying emotionally well. Her blog gets really popular around finals week, when the panicked students need her advice on managing stress and anxiety. Her techniques are guaranteed by many a therapist and psychologist.

Cait’s channel is solely dedicated to posting fortage of assorted bar fights. Most of which she is involved in. A friend films them for her, and she posts them later along with a picture of how she looked after the fact. Some of her videos are her just doing increasingly dangerous shit to see if she can. Front flipping off the roof, for example.

Codsworth has one of those “how to adult” blogs where he teaches people about landscaping, how to get stains out of clothes in an emergency, how to make coffee in a mug using only a microwave and some coffee grounds. Also assorted other posts about properly doing the laundry for people moving out of the house for the first time.

Curie is the science side of literally any website she can manage. She probably has a “fun science fact of the day” that she posts every morning. She’s like a Bill Nye on the scene, being nothing but sweet to everyone she interacts with, no matter how hostile they are. She has been known to stumble into some unsavory content on occasion, but always with only the desire to educate on what is and isn’t scientifically possible.

Danse’s fitness inspiration blog is actually full of good advice. He has meal plans, workout models, and a couple videos of him demonstrating proper form for difficult exercises. Constantly features other blogs and transformations as motivation for those struggling. Posts motivational quotes as well. Has a collection of workout shirts with said quotes on them.

Deacon has a very successful makeup YouTube. His everyday looks are absolutely to die for, but his most popular videos are the ones detailing his disguises, etc. The most interesting thing is that he is never his own model, and instead gets a variety of guests that he puts the makeup onto. Everyone has to wonder who he really is, and there are tons of theories.

DiMA runs a zen/aesthetic blog with sprinklings of philosophy. He has some meditation and yoga tips, as well as a lot of nature shots that are just generally soothing. It’s a great study break blog. If you stay on it too long, though, you will inevitably run across a post that makes you question the entire nature of your identity and the universe.

Ellie wishes her twitter was just a shitpost generator like everyone thinks, but in reality it’s her trying to make light of her real life. It holds legendary tweets such as “When your boss gets kidnapped and you’re wondering if it’s ethical to forge a recommendation letter” and “Fellas, if you put another guy’s memories in your head, is that gay? I mean, you’re sharing a body with another dude…”

Father has one of those blogs that you probably will end up blocking at some point in time. You followed it at first, thinking it would be similar to Curie’s, and it is, on occasion. However, he also tends to get tangled up on the wrong side of ethical and moral debates, and you’ll get tired of seeing the discourse in your feed every morning.

Gage doesn’t actually post original content, he just comments on other people’s stuff. Literally an internet troll. He loves to try to get a rise out of people, and he considers internet arguing to just be a pastime. It’s probably to distract himself from the chaos of his own life, so he feels like he has control over something, anything.

Hancock runs a YouTube channel that’s just full of his own high ramblings. Essentially he just turns on the camera, gets high, and goes about his usual shenanigans. Sometimes he has guests on the show, mostly Fahrenheit who accidentally gets featured when she wanders in on him. But he’ll take pretty much any guests, as long as they’re willing to get high, too.

MacCready has a gun tips YouTube channel which is mostly just him showing off his sick sniping skills. His son makes frequent guest appearances, helping his dad demonstrate how to use proper gun safety with handguns and the like. His safety videos are really solid, but his most popular ones are of him shooting the bullseye on the target in increasingly difficult positions. For example, standing on his head.

Nick runs a blog mostly dedicated to dad jokes, but there’s also some pretty solid life advice on there. He’s the unofficial dad/grandpa of thousands of people across the internet. He’s somehow active 24 hours a day, and is always ready to give crisis comfort to one of the many people he’s adopted. The jokes are funny, too, but no one is willing to admit it.

Old Longfellow has a YouTube where he details both hunting and alcohol, sometimes both. He reviews certain alcohols, shows off his favorite drinks, and is always drunk by the end of his videos. This includes the hunting ones. Sometimes, he just baits creatures that are three times as strong as him to see if he’ll live. Whatever he posts is always a wild and entertaining ride.

Piper is trying to run a legitimate news blog, but mostly she gets labeled as a conspiracy theorist. She tries to fight back with facts and accuracy, and she has a huge following. She’s never sure which of her followers are legitimately interested in what she has to say and which ones are just there to laugh at her “crazy” ideas.

Preston likes to run his own little diy and gardening blog. He loves to post his composting and recycling tips, as well of pictures of his garden and latest recycling project. He quietly encourages people to make a living for themselves instead of relying on someone else for their livelihood. The number of things he can make out of a pickle jar is impressive.

Strong has a literature analysis blog. He’s got a specific taste for Shakespeare, going on for huge paragraphs about the subtext and picking apart all the jokes and innuendos while still maintaining a huge respect for the works. Every so often, he lets his followers give him something to read and analyze, which led to the most epic demolition of 50 Shades of Gray anyone had ever seen.

X6, to everyone’s surprise, is the sad nihilistic memer. It takes literal years to pin him to his content, because nobody would expect he’s the one making the casual depression and anxiety memes. He has the largest following of anyone, because his memes honestly are funny and relatable. He’s now constantly irritated by everyone he knows as they ask him if he’s okay, though.

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hj-creates · 5 years

Text

Our Secret- Chapter 4

Link to previous chapters is here-

Philip and Thomas finally get the alone time they have been craving. (The read more cut only works on the desktop version for me which is cool but doesn't let me add a link. Jfc, Tumblr get your shit together.)

*****************

Philip watched as the last of the others left. He sprang out of his chair and locked the door. He turned around and saw Jefferson looking out one of the large windows, admiring the fading light of dusk.

Philip came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Thomas’s waist and let them glide slowly up the other man’s chest. His long fingers flexed over the silk-covered skin and he tilted his head up to whisper in his ear. “Finally. I thought they would never leave.”

Thomas took one of Philip’s hands in his own and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to his wrist. “You must learn patience, Philip. The anticipation makes everything so much sweeter.”

“Are you kidding?” Philip snorted out. “I’ve spent the last hour in agony, watching the clock and trying to hide my arousal.”

Jefferson turned around with a smirk. “Is that so little Hamilton?” His fingers skimmed down Philip’s shirt and rested on the waistband of his breeches.

Philip took his hand and, without breaking his gaze on Thomas guided it lower. “Not so little.” He purred.

Thomas couldn’t stop the soft moan the spilled from his lips. “You locked the door?” Philip nodded. “Good.” He loosened the cravat around his neck and tossed it to the side. He started to unbutton his shirt then drew the curtains closed. Philip shirked off his waistcoat and yanked his shirt over his head. Thomas inhaled sharply at the perfection that was suddenly revealed to him. The younger man had to the audacity to chuckle at his reaction and Thomas was swiftly in front of him. He placed the tips of his fingers over Philip’s mouth. “You’ll have to be quiet, you know.”

Philip kissed the digits pressed against his mouth. “I know.” He replied, seemingly unconcerned.

“I daresay it won’t be easy. Not with you teasing me all damn day.”

Philip feigned innocence. “What do you mean? All I did today was try to learn all I could about you. From you, I mean. So much lovely governing.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jefferson pretended not to be amused. “And how many times did you pretend to drop something and slowly pick it up?”

“Oh, I’m very clumsy.” His eyes glittered. “My apologies if it flustered you.”

“Flustered me? I damn near had to cancel my meeting with Secretary Pickering just so I could have time to… compose myself.”

Philip’s smile grew wider. “Well now we are finally alone together. You can release that pent-up libido and have your way with me.” He draped his arms around Thomas’s neck and pressed himself wantonly against the other man’s frame.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You are entirely too forward. One would almost be tempted to question your upbringing.”

“And you are entirely too verbose.” Philip’s thumbs stroked Thomas’s jawline. “I didn’t squirm through hours of meetings and policy discussions just to engage in verbal discourse.”

Jefferson bit down on his tongue. He feared he had underestimated his intern. Why had he been so foolish to imagine himself as the one wielding control? The lad was dangerously close to making him stutter, his thoughts all scattered in a haze of lust and this endless, aching need to taste and touch every inch presented to him.

And so he did; taking a step back, he slowly undid the rest of his buttons and let his shirt fall to the floor. He unfastened his pants and they pooled around his ankles. He dropped to his knees and relieved Philip of the rest of his garments as well. He placed a trail of kisses up the younger man’s stomach and all the way to his shoulders. He scraped his teeth gently over Philip’s throat and let his tongue caress the soft spot under his ear. Philip whimpered and Thomas was quick to cover his mouth with his hand. “Must stay quiet.” He peered into the other man’s eyes and his gaze reflected a deep, fiery longing that made Philip shudder.

His hand reached for Philip’s and he led him to his enormous office chair. As he sank into the plush cushion, Philip straddled his lap. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and grabbed the bottle of oil he had purchased special for this occasion. He coated his hand and both of their cocks with a sharp hiss as he tried to remain silent.

He took his time and made sure his lover was ready and comfortable before sinking his length deep inside. Philip opened his mouth as if to cry out and Thomas shushed him preemptively. To be honest, he was having a hard time not making any noise as well; every thrust brought a new wave of pleasure that in a more private setting would have him bellowing out profanities.

Philip rolled his hips slowly, gripping him tight, as Thomas stroked him expertly. His long fingers teased lightly and he swiped his thumb over the already slick tip then stiffened his hand and stroked faster.

He attempted to last as long as he could but after hours of torment and stolen glances he soon had to admit defeat and let his ecstasy wash over him. He pressed his forehead into Philip’s flesh, hoping his soft skin would muffle his cries of libidinous euphoria. He stayed there and tried to catch his breath.

It was Philip’s own hands that lightly came to rest on Thomas’s cheeks, lifting the older man’s face to look at him. He was smiling softly and Thomas thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature in his entire life.

Satiated in a way that he hadn’t been in years, Jefferson sat back and let his eyes flutter closed as Philip placed soft kisses on his neck and collarbone.

He tangled his fingers in his lover’s dark curls. “Oh Philip,” he breathed out. “You are a prince among gargoyles.”

Philip laughed softly, not out of derision, only affection. “Surely your post-coital bliss is exaggerating my physical attributes.”

“No, my love.” Thomas forced his head up to meet his stare. “I have been bewitched by your beauty for some time now.” Philip shook his head as if he disagreed and Thomas felt a pang in his chest. He stared at him and his voice was tender, “You doubt the veracity of this?”

Philip looked up at him from under his long, dark lashes and Thomas didn’t wait for a response. He gripped him by his waist and sat him on his desk. He trailed light kisses up his thigh and when his lips finally caressed Philip’s erection, it elicited a loud, long moan. “Shhh…” Thomas hissed at him. “If you can’t remain silent, then I’m afraid I’ll be forced to stop.” He neglected to mention he had absolutely no intention of letting Philip leave his office without tasting all of him.

His swirled his tongue around the base before closing his mouth around him, massaging him with his lips and lapping at his hardened prick. His tongue darted at the slit, savoring the arousal that had already started to leak out. He tightened his mouth around the tip, bobbing his head up and down his shaft as Philip’s hands knotted in Thomas’s hair, pulling and tugging as he struggled to not cry out his release.

His hips lifted off the desk and he grunted through gritted teeth as he succumbed to the rapturous gratification and erupted between Thomas’s expert lips. He shook and collapsed in the other man’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder.

After a few moments, Thomas spoke softly. “We should probably get dressed now.”

“I suppose.” Was Philips’s weary response.

“Before you leave, I’d like to go over some rules.” The other man didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Everything between us must be contained here in these offices. You are never to come to my home unless I have invited your entire family. You mustn’t show up unannounced or on any days other than workdays. It must always look like you are here strictly for work.”

Philip had crawled back onto Thomas’s lap and was nipping at his throat. “You mean I can’t tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend now?” He teased.

“No.” Thomas grimaced. He gently combed his long fingers through Philip’s hair. His eyebrows lifted and a wistful expression spread over his face. “Though I wish you could. I wish I could take you out to fancy dinners and out riding in the countryside. I wish I could spoil you and mostly... I wish I could share my bed with you. Spend hours teasing and pleasuring you. An entire night of just you and I.”

“That sounds nice.” Philip’s eyes were half-lidded as he gazed into the dark eyes of the other man.

Thomas impulsively kissed him again. “I know the arrangements aren’t ideal but you have to understand there are many who would love to see my downfall and-“

“You mean my father?” Philip smirked.

“Well, Alexander and I have our political disagreements, but I don’t think he is plotting my demise or hates me or anything.”

“Oh no.” Philip chuckled against Thomas’s chest. “He definitely… well, nevermind.”

Jefferson smiled and stroked his hair. “Yes, let’s not discuss him further. I wasn’t even referring to him specifically. There are always rumors swirling around about me. I never remarried after my wife died and that was… hmm, almost twenty years ago. I have to be discreet about certain carnal appetites, wouldn't want to start all the gossips' tongues wagging.”

Philip placed a warm kiss on Thomas’s throat. “I like your tongue wagging.”

The older man placed his hands on either side of Philip’s face and tilted his head up to look at him. Thomas’s eyes were half-lidded and he absentmindedly licked his lips. “You…” he drawled out, “are a very salacious young man.”

As if to prove his point, Philip ground his hips on Thomas’s lap, reigniting the desire that had momentarily subsided after their climax. Thomas moved his long fingers to Philip’s thighs and squeezed hard. “It is long after nightfall, kitten. Surely they will be missing you at dinner.”

Philip shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I got home after everyone went to bed.”

“Yes, but it would the first time you would be late after spending all day with me.”

Philip relented grudgingly but not before placing another searing, bruising kiss on Thomas’s lips. He disentangled his limbs and slowly got dressed, knowing he was the focus of his instructor’s lustful gaze. He opened the office door and waved goodbye. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Jefferson.”

“Adieu, Philip.”

#hamilton #philip hamilton #thomas jefferson #jefferson piperson

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peacefulwriter88 · 6 years

Text

Part Three: Such Fine Music Waits in the Shadows of Hell

Steve Rogers X Reader WoC, Bucky X Reader WoC

Warnings: M for Mature (language, SMUT)

A/N: This is a three part series inspired by the Hades and Persephone mood board I created that inspired me to write about Steve as a living Hades and a ballet reader as Persephone. You can read Part One here and Part Two here.

“Aren’t you afraid of my darkness my dear?” Hades asked with mischief dancing in his eyes. “No,” Persephone replied, “You haven’t even seen mine yet.”

-Unknown

___

I’m losing her.

There’s nothing else to say but that the woman that was my daughter no longer belongs to me.

Her cheeks blush secretly with the secret she doesn’t tell and her laughter carries a new tune that is foreign to my ears and and her eyes lie to me before her voice does.

Someone else has laid claim.

I can see it in the way she moves, her strut now of confidence her soft words full of surety. There’s a ghost that’s been whispering secrets in her ear and sputter out against me and she withdraws from me in shame.

And she leans into it willingly

“Who is he?” Reyna looks over at you, her daughter during the third rehearsal of Manon. You look up from the deep stretch you were engaged in, sweat dripping from your face as you quirk up an eyebrow and ask,

“What?”

“The man? The one who’s widened those naturally stiff hips of yours, who leaves bite marks across your neck.”

She’s disgusted that you think she wouldn’t find out, that you were still twelve and thought you could outwit her. At first you had been careful and despite her suspicions you had been consistent with your lies.

But now you were getting sloppy, his love bites were prevalent everywhere - your thighs, your neck, your cleavage and with the long rehearsal hours you had gotten lazy covering his work.

You smile, resume your position and snicker,

“Oh mother really with the dramatics. Do you think you could’ve kept me a pure innocent forever? It doesn’t matter who it is - you’d never guess anyways. What matters is that I’m still focused; I’m still showing up and providing my best and it doesn’t matter who takes me to bed when I’m done.”

Reyna gasps, she knows the whole room has stuttered in the motions from your crisp, clear words. You had never talked back to her. You were her good girl - her angel - and you would have never found the words to rise against her.

Yet here you were. You stand up, arms stretched wide as you move from her, pass your classmates.

“I’m going to finish stretching outside. Where I’m not going to be judged.”

Reyna doesn’t have the words as she watches you saunter off.

____

Everyone’s caught wind of the tiff. Naive and sweet angelic Benedetti mouthing off to her bitchy mother Reyna, the former queen?

It spreads like wildfire.

Reyna wouldn’t be embarrassed no, would gladly ingest the whispers if there weren’t new words also tangled in gossip.

“Y/N got off her high horse and isn’t as pure as we thought anymore.”

“Apparently this guy fucks the shit out of her. Have you seen the marks he leaves all over her? God, let me find a guy like that….I loved being marked up.”

“At least she’s didn’t turn into her mother and is still quiet little Benni.”

“She got tired of being the ballets little princess and has given into sin.”

No one knows who the mystery man is.

Reyna suspects her roommates do, they all smile and giggle with you in warm up, shut down any injury inquiries that float their way and Reyna worries it’s with the director. Wouldn’t be the first time a Benedetti slept with one to get ahead, she knows, but she doesn’t want your story to end like hers.

So she presses.

Visits you unexpectedly, walks you to and from your apartment. She’s smothering you, she knows and it’s finally a cold evening that you turn on her and yell,

“Enough! I’m thirty - I’m my own woman and I can love who I please.”

“It's not about who you choose to love. You can choose whoever gives you joy. It's the fact that you won’t share who it is with me and you tell me everything.”

You sigh as you stop in your tracks and look at her. Your beauty was at its prime, the confidence that only sex and love can give you paired with the years of work you’ve invested in your body. Honestly, Reyna knew that it would only be time before someone captured your eye, stole your heart and with it your dreams.

Except she didn’t expect this, this natural rebellion, this change in attitude.

“For as simple as my life is he’s isn’t. And you had made it clear from the minute I hit puberty that love couldn’t be an option in my life. So why would I tell you?”

There is bitterness and pain in your words and Reyna reaches for you. You shrug out of her embrace, wipe at your eyes.

“Its fine,” it obviously isn’t as you move past her, walking faster, “Just respect the boundaries I’ve created in my personal life. You’ve controlled everything else about me this far, respect this.”

You storm away, annoyed and Reyna watches your shadow disappear into the night.

____

She is kindness.

She is hope.

She is rivaled light and good, her energy radiates out of her pores. She dances a tango of life and death and doesn’t trip up in its complicated discourse, she takes his savagery and turns it into love.

Flowers weep at her departure and blossom upon her return and she has turned hell into a sanctuary of comfort, her arms a shield from thorns and bone.

She is his and he is hers and together they laugh alone.

Steve watches you as you stretch out to your toes from the comfort of the floor, the muscles in your body contracting as you reach out with ease. There is something beautiful about the way your body was layered in equal parts muscle and fat, strength and softness that captured your soul.

You were upset, you’d never voice it but the minute you stepped into his apartment, cordially greeting Sam before you walked into his bedroom he knew there was something distracting your thoughts. You had barely touched your dinner. Odd as you were ravenous lately after rehearsals and despite the topic he tried to start you wouldn’t keep the normal steady beat of a conversation.

“So I was talking to Sam,” his voice startles even him as you look over to him from your stretch, your head easily resting on your thighs and he takes a moment to admire the flexibility and strength in your body, “He’s thinking of moving out.”

Your hands stop reaching, irises looking deeply into his before you lean up, stretch out to the ceilings. Your body cracks and he winces, still uncomfortable with the natural sounds your body creates from being a dancer as you cross your legs and look at him.

“Are you going to move out to?”

He shakes his head,

“No. I like it here. I like this neighborhood - I like this privacy. I like that my neighbors treat me like any other guy who would live in a building and call me Steve. I like being able to do normal things with you here.”

You smile at him, it's the first he’s seen you crack all evening and he exhales heavily as he looks down at his hands. Their stained from ink, the nails dirtied with blood and grim from the mission he and Sam just got back from. He thought this would be easier, would come up naturally after dinner when you both were putting the dishes away or cuddled on the couch watching a new TV show you and Sam had selected.

He’s not sure of your mood, unsure if he’s the cause of your silence and it makes him insecure - hesitant for the first time in what feels like months. Knows that if Sam could witness his mild panic attack he’d tell him to hold off, to wait until you both were in better places.

He’s impatient - knows the anxiety of not asking would cripple him more than your answer so he pushes through the fog.

“Well that's good.”

Your voice is soft and velvety in that way that soothes him and he looks up at you, his eyes scrunching together.

“I suppose…..well, my point is. I was wondering if you would like to, and this is no pressure I know we’ve barely been dating, if you would like to move in with me?”

The smile on your face doesn’t break as you look over at him, whimsical before you stand up and walk toward him. He’s been sitting at the edge of the bed and you easily slid between his legs, sitting on his right thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press your forehead to his own as he draws you closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you lift your hand to his cheek.

“This is a big step Steve. Not just for you or for me individually. This is a big step for us. For our relationship.”

His eyes peer into your own as he tightens his hold around you,

“I know that. I also know that there was only one other woman who has made me feel the way you make me feel when I even think about you. And I was foolish and choose the happiness of others over my own. I don’t want to repeat that again. I choose myself and I choose you.

I love you.”

It's the first time he’s voiced the words out loud. Before they felt too delicate, too fragile to expel out into the world. He’s selfish, he wants you all the time, you’ve given him the gift of what it feels like to be human again. He pictures a future with you, wants you to be the only one he makes sacrifices to and for, wants to protect you from the cruelties of the world.

Your eyes fill with wetness, thick tears that swell at the base of your eyes and spill out over your cheeks. Even when you cried you were beautiful and he leans in to press his lips to your cheeks, his mouth catching a tear before it can finish its descent down your face.

“I love you too.”

“I know.” he grins.

You smile, press your lips against his own in a kiss before you whisper,

“Yes. My answer is yes.”

____

You move in the second week into your show, a month after he has asked. You insist to him that you can wait, that there was no rush and your roommates understood but he pushes back and says he can do it easily. That he can recruit others to help out.

You only agree after insisting you must pack all of your things first.

It's an easy request.

Meanwhile the world has gone quiet - its as if having the world's population snapped in half, then snapped back into place - has provided a peacefulness in humans. Sure there were incidents that would arise but they weren’t like before. The world may not have a need for the Avengers anymore. It causes Steve to become restless, idle.

He goes to all of your shows because he has the extra time, sometimes watching in the shadows to draw your form and other times he’s in the front row, loving the passionate look of love that he only sees when you dance. His name is becoming an afterthought on people's mind, a ghost of who he was despite the missions he takes and its one Sunday morning, the both of you making breakfast together at the stove that you clear your throat, whisper,

“So I was talking to a friend and….they have an opening down at the New York School of Art. I told them about some of your work and they said that you would have an excellent chance of getting in. You know, if you wanted. And less people aren’t recognizing you on the street so you could be in peace.”

Despite the fact that your arm is wrapped around his waist, the other sauteeing onions he feels you withdrawing and he pulls you to him, kisses your head.

“Are you suggesting I go to art school?”

You bite your lip anxiously and shrug.

“I don’t know even half of what it means to be responsible for saving the world, to have the power of strength and agility running through your veins. I don’t know what it must feel like to have so much of what has come to define a part of your identity to suddenly be stolen because humans have learned the art of resting.

I do understand restlessness, of feeling caged and not being able to break through to what gives you joy and I know you don’t sleep through the night like you used to, that you spend all of your time drawing and that you're living in silence. I think you should try something that will give you joy. Just for a bit.

The world will always be around for saving.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” He cuts you off and you exhale, placing your chin on his arm.

“That's okay. You aren’t looking at it like I am, outward in.”

“You’re telling me to sacrifice others for my own happiness?” he doesn’t mean to be defensive and you hesitate before you answer,

“I’m saying that you can choose you sometimes and not be the bad guy. That you can make your own happiness and not rely on it from others.”

He’s silent after that and you don’t approach it even further. Made it clear where you stood on the matter.

He doesn’t apply immediately. Instead, he tries to take on as many missions that come up. He was hurt by your words, he doesn’t deny that. It makes him withdraw from you and it's on a cold night that you whisper into the darkness, ‘I just don’t think fighting brings you happiness. That’s all I meant Steve. I just want you to be happy.’ Your words are hurt and broken - he knows that you’re probably crying and it causes him to draws you to him, kiss you in apology. Perhaps it didn’t. He starts to focus on the emotional connection he has when he’s fighting for freedom, the way it makes him feel after and he comes to the sound conclusion you’ve known all along.

It doesn’t feel good anymore. Not even self serving. Just another routine. Another exhausting, draining routine.

He tells you he applies one late autumn night, fresh off of a mission and not even undressed from his uniform and showered. Crawls into the large shared bed you’ve both invested in, arms drawing you back into his chest as you wrap yourself around him.

“I can’t rely on you completely for my happiness.” he whispers into your hair, holding you tightly. Tears fall from his face because he realizes that the selfishness he holds in his heart for you is because he doesn’t know how to be happy without you, that he willingly broke the heart of his best friend to try to guarantee some form of joy for himself. He doesn’t want to dilute his happiness with you, wants to know how to bring warmth to his own heart - to not live in darkness so he can give you the same joy you give him.

“I know. You’ll figure it out,” you turn to him, press your lips sleepily upon his closed eyes. “You’re not alone and I love you. Just, for once, do something for you.”

___

Break me of your bonds.

I can no longer dance in the ballet of your love. No longer want to be a slave to your beauty, my soul a prisoner to your heart.

Let me be free of you, to seek forgiveness in the act, to bathe in serendipity. May my dark heart find light in someone else, to dance a tango with a devil, to find comfort in her hell.

Let me be free,

Please.

Just let me be.

The first time is an accident. Its after he leaves Sam and Steve’s for dinner with you, an awkward two hours in which he is accosted by your presence. He tries to numb his brain of you - tries to erase the kind way you rest your hand on his metal arm or try to understand the way his calculative brain thinks through things when he’s forced with a gun in his hands or the sound of your laughter when he tells a joke.

It's not love that bonds you to him, he knows, all of your love is reserved for Steve. There is an understanding, an empathetic knowledge of what it means to be the puppet for someone else for years and to be given freedom and to fall into yourself because freedom is as foreign as living.

He cries silently on the walk back because he’s gotten to that place in his thoughts where in a world where Steve stopped existing there was no you and him. Of course that meant that in a world where there is no Steve, though, there probably wouldn’t be a him. Not the version of himself that he was today at most, he’d still be fighting his memories as the Winter Soldier.

The world operated in a cruel, manipulative balance.

So when he happens upon her, crying alone on the balcony where she thinks no one knows she sneaks off too late in the night, he just wants someone to hold. For someone who understands what it means to be robbed of happiness and to feel that there is only emptiness in the future.

He doesn’t mean to kiss her.

But he’s so touch starved, and her lipstick is as bold as her wavy red hair, she burns in the darkness that he has to have a taste. He expects her to punch him in the gut, to try to rip off his prosthetic arm, to ward him off of her but instead she leans into him just as eagerly, arms wrapping around his body.

That's how it begins.

Natasha isn’t the kind of woman who wants to be romanced, still acts cold with him on missions or when the group is forced on social outings. Except, she eagerly waits for him in the safety of his room, hands gripping for the soft fabric of his shirt, legs wrapping themselves around his waist, mouth sloppily on his own. She’s majestic in the safety of the night, laughs and whispers with him, makes promises that breathe hope into his heart as she rides him passionately. Doesn’t cower away in fear with him.

In return he tries his best to keep her happy, cleans her guns for her before missions and picks up the little russian cookies she likes to treat herself to on occasion. She laughs more, now with him instead of at him, appreciates his input when its given, challenges Steve on why he’s been so distant with his longtime friend. She quietly paints herself onto him, brushes her hands against his own in public, teases his foot under the table during briefings.

For a while he thinks he’s forgotten all about you, that you’ve become a cloudy memory in the list of cloudy memories and that he was no longer your slave - that he was free of you.

For a minute he believes he’s free.

“We should do something for each other.”

It's her voice in the darkness, arms wrapped around his own after a session of lovemaking. Her face rests on his chest and he chuckles, kisses her forehead.

“We do do things for each other. Like have sex.”

She laughs, it's not seductive and dark but light and playful as she squeezes herself to him.

“Not like that. Like go out and do something that doesn’t involve a bed and physical activity,” he laughs again as she lifts her head, her eyes twinkling in the dark. “I want to treat you to a night out. You’ve been really….great these past few months. Let's go on a date. Jump one step ahead of making it official.”

He nods, presses his lips against her own. He could do that. For her, he could try.

He doesn’t suspect it to be the last place his heart can survive.

Until he’s looking up at the building, waterfalls dancing in its twinkling lights, Natasha’s arms wrapped in his own. Convinced him into a tuxedo, herself a tight black dress as she steers him to where Steve stands, waiting for them. He’s also in a tuxedo, hands stuffed in his pockets, his face forming the beard Bucky was acquainted with when he first saw his friend in Wakanda.

“Thanks for getting us tickets Steve. There sold out - your girlfriend is making a name for herself and its damn near impossible to snag one.”

Steve is relaxed, Bucky hasn’t seen his friend in what feels like years and the blue eyes that watch him now are different from months back. They’re full of light, full of the Steve that he remembered, that he missed.

“She was happy to hold them for you. She was happy to hear that Bucky was dating someone and feeling a bit hurt he hadn’t come to see her dance.”

“You’ve met her before?” Natasha asks surprised, looking over at Bucky and Steve shrugs it off,

“She made dinner for him and Sam a few months back. She’s excited to meet you Natasha.”

Bucky’s never watched you dance, made a point to never cross that line for his heart. Knows that it's a dangerous path that it would take him down, that his heart would always belong to you and no other.

He’s right in his hypothesis.

You’re a siren, melodic and entrancing the moment you step onto the stage. There’s a powerful gentleness to the way you carry your body, a silent grace in the way you narrate the love story. There’s joy, joy that can only come from doing something you love and why Steve latched on to you, why he stole you from Bucky’s heart strings and kept you for his own.

You breathed love into life.

By the time the curtain falls there’s hot tears that pour from his eyes and it’s Natasha who wipes them away, lovingly teases the sensitive part he’s shown in public. There’s a haziness in her eyes, they glitter with her own tears but when one escape she turns away, looks at Steve and brushes it away like it was nothing.

“She’s invited you both to dinner if you want.” Steve says lowly, above the chatter of the theater patrons and Bucky wants to say no but Natasha is faster as she breathes out ‘yes, of course’.

The restaurant isn’t far from the theater, the same one Bucky had followed you and Steve too months earlier, the upscale dining decor brighter peering out than when he was looking in. You join them forty five minutes later, pea coat billowed open as you rush to their table - to Steve. He stands immediately when he senses your presence, smiling as you shuffle toward him in your heels.

“I’m so sorry! The interview went far longer than I expected and then my mother needed a word. I think she may be onto to you.”

You lean up and kiss him, pausing when you pull away to whisper the soft words Bucky’s heart can’t bear.

I love you.

Steve repeats the words, endearingly before he’s helping you out of your jacket, exposing the off shoulder burgundy dress you’ve opted into and you barely slide into your seat before your eyes drink in Bucky - Natasha.

“Oh my, my manners! Bucky, I’m so happy to see you again! And I’m happy you finally came to my show.”

You lean into him, hugging him and he feels attacked as his senses are overwhelmed by jasmine, your warmth. You pull away and drink him in, before your eyes are flickering over to Natasha,

“You must be Natasha. Steve has spoken so much of you, it’s an honor to finally meet.”

Natasha spends a half minute drinking you in, breaking you down before she extends out her hands, smiles seductively back to you. Bucky can sense you withdrawing into yourself, eyes flickering over to Steve who easily places his hand around your waist, gives your hips a squeeze. How odd, he finds, that a woman like Natasha intimidated you when you carried the weight of everything Natasha had ever yearned. Natasha isn’t malicious though, she’s sincere as she compliments your dancing, your technique and strength. You’re humble, nearly falling into your seat as Steve wraps his arms around you, caresses your arm when you get flustered. Bucky liked that fame wasn’t changing you, that you were still shy and quiet and unaware of the beauty and gifts that you carried with you.

You are mindful when you turn the tables and ask more about Natasha, her past, a conversation that in the past the redhead would have shut down immediately but with you it flows languidly, like the wine the waiter keeps pouring into their glasses. You’re a mindful listener as you learn about the red room, about Natasha’s history with ballet - how she still had an affinity and passion for it and halfway through her words you rest your hand over her own, squeeze it gently. You don’t say anymore, both Steve and Bucky are worried that perhaps even for you you’ve crossed a line but Natasha leans into it with gratefulness, squeezes your own hand back until dinner arrives.

You were enticing, even for someone like Natasha.

The conversation eventually turns to how Steve was faring in art school, Bucky didn’t even know his friend had applied and Steve makes a point to flip the attention back to you and how proud he was to see you get featured in the Times and be asked full time to be a prima for the company. He talks about how he no longer felt the heaviness from being Captain America full time, that he liked his classes and the challenges they provided, allowed to see the world like he used to. There’s a new air of happiness about him, emits from him and its startling for Bucky because he’s never known his blonde friend to be happy or content. Always bitter and finding something to be bitter about - that was the Steve Rogers.

When Bucky broaches if Steve would consider quitting the Avengers, its you that quickly steps in, shaking your head though you tenderly place a hand over Steve’s.

“I’m happy that Steve has finally made space for him to be happy - that he has carved out what gives him joy. But I don’t think it would also be realistic to think he could completely quit something that has defined so much of him and his personality. While I won’t lie and say I’d like that alternative, it wouldn’t be fair to him, or me or the world.”

You withdraw from the stares from the three of them and lean into your wine glass, shaking your head,

“It's not my decision to make it...sorry Steve. I shouldn’t speak on your behalf.”

Bucky knows Steve doesn’t mind it - that he agrees with you from the way he smiles at you, lifts your hand and kisses it while mumbling it’s ok. Steve no longer served himself in melancholy, he served and respected you and Bucky wonders if you were aware the magnitude to have someone like Steve loyal and ready for your beck and call. Perhaps not knowing made it better.

When Natasha and Bucky leave the couple two hours later it’s Natasha who states,

“I’m giving my blessing for Steve to marry her.”

Bucky flashes her eyes to him as she looks up at him thoughtfully. He didn’t even know Steve was debating it and when he’s fucking Natasha later on that night it’s your face he imagines in the dark.

One more desire to soothe his aching heart.

___

Apparently Steve isn’t though - not fully. It was just something that Natasha was starting to put into Steve’s ear because she liked you that much. Liked the perspective you gave Steve, liked that you weren’t like the people in their life, had a quiet power to you.

She starts inviting you to things - to the Tower with Steve for dinner, out bowling with the team, birthdays. The both of you are withdrawn at first, you and Steve. You’re cordial enough but you don’t make a move to connect with any of the other Avengers, your eyes withdrawing into itself whenever anyone speaks too enthusiastically about the worlds they have seen. You always fall back to Steve, but when he’s distracted in another conversation you find Bucky, admitting after the third engagement your flusteredness.

“Your world is so different than my own,” you say bashfully at a birthday event, a cup of sparkling water in your hand. “Steve keeps these things from me, knows I don’t need to know it all to love him. Meeting a man from space, a real life martian….its a bit tantalizing and I’m not sure if its in a good or a bad way.”

You’re speaking about Thor and it makes Bucky laugh, makes him ease into his own seat.

“I know what you mean.”

He takes these opportunities as not curses but as gifts to learn more about you. He learns that you’ve been asked to dance prima for the next few ballets, that you would do a small tour with your company in the coming winter months and that you and Steve were remodeling your apartment. He provides silent guidance to the gifts you should buy Steve for the holidays and is surprised on Christmas morning of the album you’ve crafted as his present - pictures from a time that his mind has long forgotten, of his sisters and his mom and dad. Steve and him.

“I was making one for Steve and...I don’t know. It's hard to imagine a world where you existed when my grandparents did but you do and I couldn’t imagine feeling that piece of identity lost.”

He cherishes it more than the sniper rifle that Natasha gifts him.

He learns that you’ve told your mother about Steve, about the family dinner Steve suggested you both host for her. That Steve hates her as much as Reyna probably hated him but that they both tried for her.

“I think my mother fears that Steve is going to leave me and Steve fears that Reyna will never let me live my life.” You sigh one cold New Years Eve party, nervously picking at your finger, a nervous tick. You’ve both stepped outside and the short, gold glittery dress that hugs your body glimmers in the moonlight. “They both have very strong opinions of the other though Steve is better at keeping his feelings to himself.”

You drunkenly admit to him on St. Patrick's Day how much you love Steve’s beard, that you’re happy he’s re-grown it out. Steve’s temporarily left to check on Sam at the pub they had decided to celebrate the holiday and trusted your care with Bucky. It's been six months since the ballet and the trust that was severed between both super soldiers was silently mending itself, enough that Steve didn’t feel the need to protect you from his best friend.

“It's just so soft and it makes him so distinguished. So handsome. So sexy….” you slur the words and though you nearly topple in his arms, he can’t help but smile down as you giggle, grappling his arms. “I like the way it makes my thighs burn after,” you hiccup, “You know.” you wiggle your brows and laugh some more.

He changes the subject after that comment.

He spirals into you, allows himself into the small sliver of your world. Likes that Natasha has coordinated each event to also include you, confides in you.

Selfishly he uses her to get to you.

Until one night, after a bout of love making she withdraws away. Doesn’t curl into his side like he’s accustomed, instead pulls from him, swings her legs out of the bed and sits looking out into the moon out the window.

“Be honest with me Bucky,” she whispers minutes later, her voice low. “Don’t lie, okay.”

“Okay?” he doesn’t know what it is she needs as she wraps her arms around herself. He reaches out for her, his cold fingers grazing her back and her spine ripples in goosebumps as she asks,

“Do you love me?”

Bucky pauses, sits up in bed and clears his throat.

“What?”

“Do you love me?” Natasha asks again, same low voice. She’s met with silence, met with Bucky trying to untangle his thoughts.

Did he love her? He wasn’t sure.

She nods.

“Do you love Y/N.”

His heart lunges, his breath breaks but he doesn’t dare say the word that will betray him. He doesn’t have too, Natasha turns to him tears in her eyes knowingly.

“You moan out her name in your sleep sometimes. I see the way you look at her, the way you look at Steve. I understand why you both stopped talking to each other a long time ago now. It was her. You loved her and she choose Steve.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, turns and looks away ashamed.

Betrays the truth.

“I’m not going to be a poor woman’s Persephone anymore. Go mourn the loss of your almost lover alone.”

She leaves him swiftly, doesn’t look back and he feel a part of him robbed, that coldness that encases his heart. He wants to call out to her, to apologize, to explain she gives him joy but he knows its all lies.

He loved you and he felt like always will.

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#Steve Rogers #Steve Roger AU #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Roger smut #Steve Rogers x woc #Steve Roger x curvy reader #Chris Evans #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Sebastian Stan #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x bucky barnes

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