#you know. it's naturally sad.

[funsize-cenobites]

[br1ghtestlight]

btw. if you even care

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[vaguely-concerned]

the way garak looks at bashir as he puts all the clues together at the end of cardassians. the sheer 'look at that little twink go (affectionate, sexual overtones)' energy he manages to convey in the background there as bashir passionately does the presentation of their group project that garak did 80% of the actual work on. immaculate

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Leave wildlife alone. He probably bites.

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[potatobugz]

i was hacked by a very unhappy man!

[katyspersonal]

me before SoTE: Gehrman 🤝 Miquella on being seen as creeps and awful people by fandom over misinterpreting some bits!

me after SoTE: Gehrman 🤝 Miquella on not being able to accept the drastic change (mostly to the worse) of a person they held dear and latching onto their former, "nicer" version, attempting to resurrect that version even although the result is a bit of just a husk (.....AND being seen as creeps and awful people by fandom over misinterpreting some bits lololol)

_________

I guess they're doomed to be friends no matter what gfjhjgv At least with Gehrman's crafting skills, he can make him many pretty dresses

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies

[babblingbonnabel]

🪡 + 🔨 | more yapping!!

NOTE: because so many bigger members of the Avarice Battalion are from the Omega clan, a big portion go to The Garden to celebrate the Omega Tree every Spring (a large symbol of longevity and legacy for the clan...before they burned down lmaooo!!!).

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Young and Beautiful

Alec Hardy (Broadchurch) x Reader

Synopsis: DS Y/N Warner uses DI Alec Hardy’s flat for some late night work

Word Count: 4890

Tags: fem!reader, fluff, smut, praise, sweet, very sweet smut, if your name is Becca look away

She didn't even bother to knock, not knowing or caring if he was in, she just slid open his sliding glass door and let herself inside. Then she plopped the case files on his sofa, pushed his coffee table to the side, and laid them all out in front of in her. He'd come round about an hour later, when all the papers lie in their own stacks across his rug, Y/N in the middle eating a slice of toast with a wild look in her eyes.

"Warner, what're you doing here?"

"There's something we're missing, there has to be, and I'm so close to it!" She said, her baby hairs frizzing wildly as her hair came loose from her ponytail. She either didn't care or didn't notice as she stood up, a paper in hand. DI Alec Hardy stood in his own doorway, flabbergasted to his DS rambling in his room at half past 4am. "I think it has to do with Aaron, it's got to be. His alibi doesn't make sense, he won't tell us where he was, and he knew Sophia well enough. At least more than some of the other persons of interest. I've tracked down the local cab company and one of the drivers says he remembers giving a bloke a ride late that night, said the lad was proper out of breath and not exactly chatty. I've already got him lined up to come in tomorrow for more information. As for the trace amounts of DNA in the victims mouth we don't have a match yet but the lab did say it wasn't as disintegrated as they'd initially thought which gives me hope! I've got -" 

"Warner!" Hardy shouted, interrupting her speech. "What the hell are you doing in my house half past 4?"

She gestured around her as though it should be obvious, "working."

"And you can't do that at your own flat?"

She giggled, and continued to ramble. When she was really tired, like proper one second away from passing out tired, like she was now, she couldn't shut up. It didn't matter if the person she was talking to didn't want to hear it or wasn't listening or couldn't hear it - having a deaf cousin worked to her favor in these instances - she would continue to prattle on about what she needed to, "no. My roommate's got her boyfriend over and they were proper loud. Could practically hear the bed rattling, and it wasn't doing me any good. You don't sleep anyway so I figured I could use the space to lay it out. I didn't think you'd not be home. Why're you dressed nice? Did you come from a date? Is that what this is? Is there some woman waiting outside?"

"No!" DI Hardy looked halfway offended at the suggestion. "I've just got back from work. Was gonna make a cuppa then keep going til you showed up."

She squealed and went for something on the floor, lifting it up then crawling to a different paper,"I take two sugars."

"I know your bloody order. Shouldn't you go and sleep?"

She waved a hand, "I'll sleep when I'm dead. What I really need is for the world to be open 24/7. If I could only call this bloke right now and half my questions could be answered. You know my order? That's sweet."

He scoffed, "it's not unique. Warner, when was the last time you slept?"

"Uhh, I slept a few hours on Tuesday. Why do you look all high and mighty? You don't sleep either, don't eat. You're practically a miserable little skeleton carting your life way through life."

"I am not -" he stopped taking. Partially because she hadn't stopped either, continuing to chatter about whatever her heart desired. And partly because he didn't know if he was going to refute the miserable part, the little part, or the skeleton part. Or if he even could refute it. He snorted, well he wasn't little. He was over 6 foot. And he could eat more, he knew that. But he often forgot about food until he had to.

"I know a fellow who took nine sugars. Can you imagine that! Nine sugars! You're drinking piss flavored juice at that point. Pardon mh French, sir. He was very strange... called himself Witchfinder as though you couldn't search on the web magic shops. Maybe we should start calling ourselves Crimefinders. Criminalfinders? That doesn't roll off the tongue, now does it?"

DI Hardy realized Y/N wasn't going to answer any of his questions in this state, so he shuffled over to the kitchen to make some tea. He took his coat off, tossing it on whatever available counter space there was with a yawn. He wanted to sleep, knew he probably had to, but he'd probably dream of something he didn't want to dream about. Lately it'd been odd mental pictures of his coworkers all hurt, Y/N choked, Ellie crying, hell even Brian made the scene with a glazed look in his eyes. He didn't know why he had these thoughts, he'd never considered himself a particularly caring individual over his coworkers. But it had haunted him off from sleep for the foreseeable future.

He made two cups of tea, disposing two sugars into Warner's as she said. Then he walked back over to his living room and sat down, elbows on his knees as he scanned her work.

"Thank you!" She said, grabbing her mug and take a large gulp of it. "What do you think of this, sir? He doesn't strike me right. Can't place it."

"The name is familiar," Hardy admitted. He went to his laptop and started typing away, trying to place the name. "Ah, he's been arrested for aggravated assault. Both charges dropped, looks like some brawls in the pubs."

"I s'pose that doesn't suggest he murdered a girl."

"Doesn't rule him out either, if he's willing to punch a stranger in a pub what would he do to someone he knows?"

She giggled and scrambled for her pencil, "I should write that down for my novel!"

"You're writing a novel?"

"Mmhmm, started it tonight. 'Adventures of Harner and Wardy.'"

Alec set his mug down, and took hers from her hand as well. "Alright, time for bed now."

"What? No! I've got more novel to write and crime to solve! We've not even started discussing the potential that Louise is lying about her husband's alibi. I mean really? She says he binged Big Bang Theory with her all night and I'm all for binging telly but of all the shows you choose that one? The laugh track is funnier than the actual show half the time - is this your bedroom?"

Hardy had helped Y/N to her feet and led her to his bedroom in the back. She was still rambling about the most irrelevant things when he guided her to sit on the edge of his bed. He didn't often make it, so he was glad to note that it was done up well. Warner hadn't slept in almost a full 48 hours and he knew that even with a brain as sharp as hers, it was dull as Katie's without sleep. He got on his knees before her, carefully untying her shoes and sliding them off her feet. He put them by the door and helped her out of her coat jacket.

"What're you doing?" She finally asked as he hung the jacket on the back of the door. "Are you hitting on me?"

"What? I -"

"Because if you are hitting on me that's totally okay, but I should warn you I'm getting sleepy so I might not be the best lay. But you are proper good looking so I wouldn't say no." She made a face, "my boss wouldn't like that would he? Noooo, can't call someone proper good looking. I'm not trying to be a knob, just communicating that you've got no problems in the looks department. None, like ever. Personality maybe but you took my shoes off for me so that gets you at least a few brownie points."

Alec felt like he was malfunctioning, his arm stuck out, frozen midair from her words. She just called him attractive. And not just good looking, but good looking enough she'd want to sleep with him! He'd never been used to such straight forward compliments and didn't quite know if he believed it. So he just worked on autopilot, helping tuck her into bed.

"Go to sleep, Warner." He flicked off the lights and closed the door. What the hell. What the hell. Alec blinked rapidly like that would make any of what just happened make any sense at all.

He stood awkwardly outside the door of the bedroom. Should he - is he- what's the proper procedure with this? He should know, he was married once, had enough sex to have a child! But it seemed all that knowledge left the moment Claire stole back the pendant, fizzling his marriage, his life, his career. Now he was left taking uneven breaths as the sun crept up, an employee who's attracted to him sleeping in his bed after 40+ hours of not sleeping.

He found himself back at his laptop, slowly typing out what to do when someone admits to fancying you. But the results were not his thing, videos of very forward men and women moving very quickly into other actions. Alec was not opposed to the action, sex. But he couldn't fathom how to get there. So he sat in his kitchen drinking old tea, and staring at his door.

An hour later he crept in to grab a different tie for work, and saw Y/N completely passed out. She was curled in a ball, cradling his pillow and lightly snoring. She looked content. It made him smile against his better judgment. He left her in there, scribbling a note on a piece of paper he taped to the bedroom door before he left for the station.

Y/N Warner woke up nearly 12 hours later. It was practically dark when she opened her eyes. She blinked away the sleep that threatened to creep in around the corners of her eyes, and propped herself up on her elbows to survey the scene around her. She didn't recognize the room she was in, blank walls and bland sheets. There was no personality to it. For a moment, she wondered if she'd gotten a hotel room and just had no memory of it.

Then she smelt a familiar, faint scent. She couldn't place it or really describe it other than she liked it, it was warm. Stupidly, she let her face fall into the pillow to inhale the scent. Oh my god.

She shot up quickly, realizing where she was. The memories of last night flooded her mind.

"Shit, shit, shit." A hand flew to her brow as she tried to process. She'd come here to work because her roommate was fucking her boyfriend into the oblivion. DI Hardy came back, made her a cuppa. She wouldn't shut up, kept rambling about the Big Bang Theory (why?) and Witchfinders (how?) before he guided her here. Then she - "no." She said audibly, she did not make a pass at DI Hardy in his bed, late at night and practically drunk on exhaustion. Her eyes flit around the room before landing on the one piece of decoration, a framed photo of Hardy and Daisy, his daughter. "No." She said again, as though it could stop her ramblings.

Y/N rushed out of the bed, scrambling to find her shoes before she saw them neatly lying next to the door. She was usually very professional, if not a little eccentric. But no one could fault you for being a lot when you were good at your job and solved cases. She brought justice to people, she knew she did. And she might have risked it all because she worked herself too far and hit on her boss. Regardless of how stupid attractive he was, that was still work place harassment.

She shoved her shoes on, forced her arms into the holes of her suit jacket and ambled out into his living space. There were papers everywhere. They covered the floor like a new rug, slouched over the chairs and clung to the walls by hall dead pieces of tape. She looked for her mobile, patting her pockets. Shit, she must have left it in the bedroom. When she turned she spotted a note on the door.

'At the office. Feel free to not come in.'

Oh she was dead. She'd lost her job forever, she would never work again. This stupid blasted career she'd worked so hard on gone.

She ran back and found her mobile among the sheets, shoved it into her pocket and ran to leave the home. Then DI Hardy stood awkwardly at the front door, bags of Chinese hanging from his hands and a weird not grimace not smile expression. He didn't look pleased to see her, but he didn't want to kill her. Good news, right?

"Sir, I am so sorry about last night-"

"Don't worry about it." He waved his hand, coming in to set the food on the counter. He got a lot of it.

"No, I can't not worry about it. I came into your home, made a mess, took your bed and propositioned you-"

"Warner, we've arrested a man for the murder of Sophia Garcia. It was Aaron Baker, his dad's golf clubs, just like you'd said."

Her mouth fell open, "shit, really?"

Alec gestured to the mess of papers while he spoke, "you'd mentioned something about the cabbie last night. When I went in I gave them a ring, and while there was a driver who picked up a grumpy lad it wasn't Aaron. Sounds like a Christie book but it was his twin. Aaron was cross town cleaning up the scene."

"Not good enough," Y/N said softly.

Alec nodded, "not good enough."

"I'm sorry, sir." She said again, her voice still quiet and meek.

He didn't answer her, just stared for a beat before gesturing to the food, "I didn't know what you liked so I bought two of everything."

"All this is for me?"

"You solved the case, Warner."

She shook her head, "I ... you let me sleep in your bed? I ransacked your house, I propositioned you, and you let me sleep and brought me food?"

Alec scratched the back of his neck. He did not like how often Y/N asked questions. It stressed him out, like he had to have an immediate answer to every single one when he figured his actions spoke. But she looked so confused. He just gestured to the food and went to grab plates.

She sat down in surprise, blinking quickly as she watched him come over. "Just a, uh, an egg roll and cho mein please."

He nodded and shoved two of both onto her plate before giving it to her. He didn't put anything on his plate. Y/N sighed and scraped off half of hers onto his.

"Eat, sir. Please."

He blinked, "wot?"

"I've known you for years and never seen you eat. Just eat the egg roll."

He stared at the greasy food. He can't eat that, he thought and was about to say as much when she shot him a dirty look. Tentatively, Alec took a bite of it. He cringed, he didn't quite love the taste but Y/N seemed pleased he was eating so he finished it off just for her.

When they both finished he cleaned up, and she stayed seated. Then he moved past her to the bedroom, undoing his tie and tossing it, along with his jacket, onto a chair in the corner. He started to roll his sleeves up round his elbows when Y/N waited by the door.

"Thank you, sir."

"No need-"

"Let me. Thank you, sir. For the food and the sleep and, uh, well thank you for everything."

"Of course, Warner. I take care of my people." Not typically this much care, but he didn't want to make her feel bad. He focused on sliding off his shoes, shoving them out of his sight.

Alec jumped - well, Alec never really jumped just blinked harshly and cocked the one eyebrow - in surprise. Y/N was now closer to him, her chest heaving as she stared up at him. She was shorter than he remembered.

"I-If I may, sir?" She asked, lifting a hand.

He had a feeling he knew what she was asking, but didn't know for certain. But all the same he nodded. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in, going onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He hadn't been kissed in a long time, and the surprise of her initiating it made him stand there and accept her soft lips against his. When she broke, he could see the fear in her eyes as though she had done something wrong. Alec hadn't kissed in a while, and he felt the anxiety creep in that he didn't remember how. But the look in her eyes made it worth the fear.

He plunged forward, grabbing the back of her neck gently while his other hand came to cradle her jaw. Her skin was soft under his touch, melting as he held her. Y/N's hands came up to hold his jaw, scruffy and itchy in the most delightful way. Her mouth melded with his as his tongue licked along her bottom lip.

She cherished the way his jaw scratched against hers slightly, sighing when he broke to trail soft kisses down her jaw and the length of her neck. The scratch was enough to make her giggle like a schoolgirl, holding his shoulders. He shot back up, hair slightly wild but nothing compared to his eyes as he looked into hers deeply. He needed to be absolutely certain. There was no time for messing about and hurting anyone.

She smiled. He was so handsome to her, but in an understated way. She took the moment to run a finger on his sculpted jawline, along his freckled cheeks and down his crooked nose. No, not everyone might look at those features and call it handsome. But to her, he was everything. Smart, kind, and good-looking as sin. Her finger fell upon his lips, slightly open and let out harsh breaths as he searched her eyes desperately. Alec always wished he could read expressions better, he was terrified he'd make the wrong decision somewhere down the line.

But Y/N smiled, and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his nose before taking a step back. Then she toed off her own shoes, shucked off her own jacket, and began to undress.

He followed her lead, removing his shirt and pants. Eventually, they both stood in front of one another naked. Y/N felt that pang of anxiety in her chest at being bare in front of a man. She'd made it very clear to Alec that she found him to be hotter than hell, but did he feel that way about her? She wasn't ugly, she knew that, but she wasn't a showstopper.

And yes, she could see the surprisingly length of him hardening before him. But didn't every man get hard when sex was on the table?

Alec came forward and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her forward as his eyes took in every inch of her. He ran a hand along her stomach - an insecure area for her - and up between her breasts, before settling it on the base of her neck. The simple action left her breathless.

His eyes were still on her body before he brought them up to hers. She was struck by how deep his were, how warm and brown, they seemed to go on forever.

"Look at you," he said hoarsely, his accent suddenly get thicker. "You're gorgeous."

"You think so?" She felt stupid asking it. She should be confident, she should pose seductively and tell him to strap in the way girls do on the telly. But this felt real and raw, and raw didn't shy away from the insecurities. Insecurities laced with cellulite and hair, parts that feel too pudgy there and too concave there. Never quite where it needs to be, never "ugly" enough for the world to tell you you have a right to complain.

"'Course. 'Course, look at you. You think I'm g-good too?" He asked back.

Y/N smiled, "thank you for saying that, most men don't."

"Don't they?" Alec asked in surprise, figuring that was just a part of the experience.

She shook her head and let her gaze trace along his body as well. He was lean and tall, with thin legs and arms wrapped in gentle muscle. His stomach was slightly pouchy and soft, beneath it his length was already hard at the sight of her. She ran a hand up from his stomach to his chest, mimicking his actions, and let it stay on his heart. Beneath her touch it thumped violently. Then she looked up to see his face, her favorite feature. His eyes were warm and gentle even when they didn't mean to be. "All of you is handsome to me, all of you."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, "you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And if it isn't too crass to say, I'd fuck every inch of you."

It was too crass to say, and even a little cheesy, but it made her blossom with a smile. She threw her arms around his neck and let herself fall into one of his all encompassing kisses she was starting to like the taste of too much. Alec's lips were firm but not overpowering as they engulfed her, setting a tingle from her toes all the way up to her head in a heady giggle. His hands held onto her waist, grasping the flesh there with a sweet intensity. His lips parted with a deep groan.

She walked backwards to the bed, leading Alec until he was over her. His arms were poised by her head, his neck brought down as he peppered open mouth kisses along her neck. She laughed lightly at his scruffy beard, moaning when his lips found the spot between her neck and shoulder that shot straight through her. Y/N writhed under his touch, heat searing her skin. His hands were everywhere, branding her, skating up her waist to grab a handful of her breast, down her back to cup her bum, and feather like fingers traveling over the top of her thighs to the place in between. She gasped as he ran a finger down her slit.

"So wet..." he murmured, not expecting her to be so aroused by him. He'd barely done anything for her, hadn't touched down there at all. Yet she was slick to the touch, heat and arousal. Alec loved the way her chest flushed, her eyes closed tightly as she savored his touch on her skin.

He ran his fingers down, keeping his touch light as he experimentally nudged around. When he found her clit she gasped, her whole body tensing and focusing on the nerves right there against his finger.

"So responsive," he murmured, starting to work gently against her clit as she took shaking, uneven breaths. Alec went to speak again, then stopped. Tess never liked when he spoke in bed, said it distracted her from her climax. So he'd learned to stay silent and focus on his partner's body, her mouth as she fought her body's reaction to grind violently against his fingers. He kissed her sternum, biting at the flesh gingerly. Despite himself, Alec growled into her as she bucked her hips to meet his ministrations.

"Keep talking," she said in a hoarse voice.

"Wot?" Alec asked, taken aback.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes heady with need, "your voice is hot. If it's okay to ask, please keep talking, sir."

Alec grinned his charming, crooked smile. He bent down to kiss along her stomach as he quickened his pace on his clit, driving her faster to a climax then she was used to. That deep Scottish voice rang our praises, some loud enough that she could hear them and clench her thighs, others murmurs against her flesh that made her head feel light and airy. She giggled at the thought of all the beard rash she'd have along her body from him. All the same he told her how well she was doing, how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked squirming underneath him.

Then, as her back began to arch and she could feel the orgasm just a hair's breadth away, he stilled. Y/N whined. Actually felt herself whine in protest. He chuckled, clearly meaning to edge her, using his large hands to keep her legs wide open.

"A-are you ready?" Alec asked, his usual confidence lost to the arousal he was trying to keep at bay for her. His hands were large and warm, holding onto the space between her hips and thighs with a firm yet gentle touch.

Y/N's eyes gazed down to his cock, hard and ready. It looked about ready to burst, but Alec squeezed her thighs to look up into his eyes. They were warm and kind. Asking for consent even in a position like this. It made her all the more sure of her answer.

She reached up for his face, grabbing his jaw and planting a warm kiss on his mouth as he started to guide himself inside of her. He was slow, letting her gasp and adjust to the length inch by inch until he was fully inside of her. Alec paused. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere, pulsing desperately for friction.

She nodded, kissing Alec again. She'd never had a kiss like that, so strong and comforting. Kisses were never her thing, she hadn't understood the fuss over them. Just two sets of lips pressed against one another, the taste of the day infecting it. But with Alec it was more than the cho mein or egg rolls, and it was more than chapped lips pressed against one another. It was full of desire, trying to communicate all that words couldn't. She drank it in fully, gasping against him as he started to move inside of her.

Alec was bigger than she expected and bigger than he was used to, and she wiggled her hips to the feeling of being stretched so full like that. He cherished the feeling of her gasps and moans, dipping to kiss every inch of skin near him.

"So beautiful, so gorgeous..." he thrusted in quickly this time and saw her body tense from surprise. "You're taking me beautifully, Angel."

Y/N could listen to his voice all day. Even before she realized he was far from an ugly bloke, she fancied the way his voice poured over her in sexy waves. Deep, guttural, it was honest and raw. He didn't lie, he didn't cover it with some pretense to be sexy. Even when his voice would break, small gasps from the sensations breaking up his sentences, she found it all the better.

Alec leaned back, not wanting to stop kissing her not wanting to miss the view. He'd pulled her hips down to the edge of the bed, him standing and her legs spread wide and resting on the small of his back. With a gentle pace that started to grow more desperate he thrust into her, watching her body flush and squirm beneath him. Y/N threw her arms up, arching her back to take him deeper. Alec was enamored with the way her breasts bounced with each thrust.

"So fucking beautiful," he grumbled, snaking a hand down to stroke her clit. He could feel that he wasn't going to last as long as he would have liked, but by the way Y/N let out little moans by his feather light touch, he figured she didn't mind all that much.

Y/N was in her own world, feeling his voice slide off her skin like oil as she chased her high. His denial of her orgasm earlier made this one all the more powerful. It seemed to slam into her, causing her to gasp wildly as Alec kept firm ministrations on her clit. Then he too reached his climax, grunting in a low voice before pouring out in a shocking spurt.

Then he pulled out, falling beside her as they both gasped for breath. Y/N quickly ambled out of the bed and used the restroom before she came back in, feeling like her limbs were absolute jelly. Alec brought her back to the bed, laying next to her. His hand held hers, thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"That was incredible," he finally said.

"You could say that again."

"That was incredible." They both paused, turning to look at one another, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

[shhroomer]

You guys ever read the most beautiful, jaw dropping, feet kicking, leaves you with a feeling of yearning fic that it possesses you? yea that was me anyways here’s vampire Kyle and his annoying assigned bodyguard who’s also a witch

(ALSO IF YOU WANT TO READ SAID FANFIC ITS A KYLE X READER FIC CALLED ITS FALLING FOR THE IDEA BY FEDOSAURUSREX ON AO3 THAT INSPIRED ME TO WHIP THIS WHOLE AU UP)

[thebirdandhersong]

I think the problem. the problem is that I have always been afraid of not being invited into the inner circle. and am always wanting to be part of the inner circle. inner circle being the circle of love and companionship and communion. of course being a TCK and a bit of a sheltered homeschooled oddball child has nudged this further along over the years. but I didn't realise how STRONG that desire still burned. to actually be wanted.

[distraughtlesbian]

sorry for speaking my truth it will happen again. i think my main issue with valax’s redemption arc is literally just that there’s never a moment where the mc gets to actually talk to her about what she did—there’s not really a cathartic conversation, so valax and mc moving past what she did to them feels less like forgiveness and redemption and more like an agreement to ignore the elephant in the room

like sure we got to talk about our trauma (in chapter 17 of 20. lol. lmao, even) to the party, but valax wasn’t present for that?? and like, sure, she says once that she is sorry “for the pain she caused [them]”, but there’s a difference Tew Me between “sorry for hurting you ig ✌️😗” and actually being like “yeah, i abducted you and forced you into a magically induced coma and stole your blood and robbed you of a full year of your life and repeatedly tried to murder you, to say nothing of the grief i caused your loved ones. i did all that shit and i’m sorry for it and deeply regret it, and i acknowledge that you don’t owe me forgiveness, but i will spend the rest of my life working to build a better world for my people instead of being my mother’s pawn”, and a difference between “my mother is unhappy with me for saving you :(” and actually like, giving the mc space to talk about the impact of her actions towards them. like girl you are not getting out of this shit with one sentence’s worth of apology and a sex scene lmfao!!!

during the first half or so of the book the focus for mc is not falling the fuck apart bc they have a friend group to tentatively piece together and they’re averse to showing fear in front of valax, so they’re repressing all their trauma—and by the time valax joins the party, the narrative has gone full Valax Cool And Good mode, and fully allows you to flirt with her and tease her and generally stops taking her seriously as an antagonist. which would be all fine and good if we had actually at any point gotten to be like, “hey, you abducting me and keeping me in a magically induced coma and stealing my blood and trying to kill me has actually caused me a lot of lasting fear and pain,” followed by some set of choices wrt forgiving or not forgiving her for all that in light of the revelation that she did all that shit bc her mom tortured and brainwashed her

like why are my friends more pissed off about the time this bitch abducted me and did evil little experiments on me than i am. free valax she did all that shit bc of her mommy issues but i should’ve gotten to call her a cunt just once. pb stop making all your mcs generals in the idgaf war challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

[alice-and-ethel]

“It was, however, the death of the eldest boy, the Duc de Bourgogne, in 1761 that left the seven-year-old Louis Auguste with a permanent inferiority complex. His parents made no secret of their lamentations at the death of the favourite (whom Maria Josepha had called that special pet name, her chou d’amour). The man in charge of Louis Auguste, the Duc de Vauguyon…also took the opportunity to lecture him on his inadequacy for the role [of future king] once played by his incomparable brother.” • Antonia Fraser, Marie Antoinette: The Journey

“[O]n the eve of Easter 1761 Bourgogne died. For his parents and the King, who had thought very highly of him, it was a terrible blow. [Louis Auguste] was now a future King of France. But he had been brought up without the adulation usually given to future Kings. On the contrary, all through his formative years he had been put in the shade, treated as a foil for brilliant Bourgogne. As a result, he was that rare creature, a prince with a poor opinion of himself.” • Vincent Cronin, Louis and Antoinette

Portraits of Louis Joseph Xavier, Duc de Bourgogne (b. 1751) and his brother Louis Auguste, Duc de Berry, later Louis XVI (b. 1754) by Jean-Martial Frédou, 1760

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.