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under-the-cherrytree · 2 years

Note

Hello~! If it's not too much, may I request a Yandere Hanako, Kou and Sakura x reader (separately) in which the reader starts to notice their abnormal behavior and distance themselves? And they do something about it. Like, completely flip the switch and like just go full on yandere mode. Any kindness that was trying to be saved in them completely disappears and they only care about just keeping the reader to themselves and making them (reader) love them. Congrats on getting 200 followers btw :D Love your work~ 💕

(Bonus points if Sakura goes fully insane with a crap ton of emotion towards the reader 👀)

(Or all of them-)

Yandere Hanako, Kou, and Sakura with a s/o who starts to distance themselves❣︎

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, violence, murder, stalking, kidnap, manipulation, toxic relationship, a little bit of stalkholm syndrome??

A/n: Hello!!!

So sorry this took so long to come out.. it took a break for a while heh~

But I’m back now and I was quite excited to write this request!!

All the emotions and angst just make me happy-

Anywho, I hope you enjoy and have a great day or night!!!

- Hanako wouldn’t come off as a yandere at first

- He will come off as this cute little ghost who just wants company

- You, of course, would gladly give him that company he wanted and he loves you for it

- After a while you would start to notice how possessive he is

- I mean possessiveness isn’t a bad thing but this was on a different level

- He would always try and get you to hang out with him and only him and whenever you say no he would see the pained expression in his face

- “Y/n… i really missed you and I wanted us to have lunch together.. you don’t know how hard it’s been being by myself for 50 years…”

- He will use the lonely card against you

- But only in extreme circumstances

- Honestly its for the better if you just give in and stay with him

- It’s hard to tell if Hanako genuinely cares about someone’s life or not

- He will have to start holding himself back from not killing everyone else you hang out with

- But he will stop himself

- They give you joy and as long as you spend most of your time with him and promise to love him forever and no one else will get in the way of your perfect love then yes… he can make exceptions and let you hang out with your friends as well

- However, you started to notice he creepier actions and distanced yourself

- You would make up excuses to get away from him

- He would feel himself become tense as he tried to hold back to burning anger inside him

- When he used the pity card on you, you would feel your heart sink and tell him you really couldn’t

- Making you pity him didn’t work? It always worked in extreme cases

- It always worked…

- This is when he finally snapped

- It’s like a sight switch that goes off in his head

- He realizes that he has no power of you anymore and become furious over this

- He would waste no time but to grab you right there and take you to his bathroom

- He’s been so lenient with you. He let you hang out with your friends and he let you focus on other things when you should have been focusing on him. And you repay his kindness like this?! Oh no. You need to be punished for this.

- He will make sure he is the only one allowed to see you

- You get no right to talk to anyone else

- He would let all his emotions out onto you

- He wouldn’t hurt you but he will express his anger and sadness in a way you don’t understand. It’s like he's talking in tongues to you. You have no idea what he is saying…

- He doesn’t want to see you suffer but he also knows what best for the both of you

- He isn’t a terrible person, he will give you choices

- You either stay with him without complaining or you can leave and all the people you ever hung out with die

- It’s your choice

- If you choose to stay? That's amazing!!

- Hanako wouldn't be violent with you

- He actually gets very sad when he sees you crying out of fear that he will hurt you

- He’s surprisingly super gentle with you

- He wants your guys relationship to go back to the way it use to be

- He will give you time to get use to everything

- He will let you roam around the school with him by your side but when he leave for meeting he will have to chain you up

- He is very sad by the thought of l chaining you up and leaving you

- He would be a little rough with you. He can’t chance you escaping

- He will chain you to the toilet and lock the bathroom so no one can enter

- It’s not like anyone would enter anyways, his meetings are always after school

- He will also give you things to do

- You like to draw? He will get you a bunch of art supplies so you can make all the art you want!

- You like to play musical instruments? He will bring you your favorite instruments!

- He just wants you by his side

- He doesn’t want you to ever leave him, he wouldn’t be able to take it

- He wants all your time

- Kou gives no signs of being a yandere

- Honestly, it surprises himself at how possessive he is

- He would be the type to try and justify his actions

- It will be okay if I take y/n’s keychain… they don’t need it

- I’m sure Y/n won’t mind if I take a photo of them without them knowing, its just a photo

- I will follow Y/n home today, just to make sure they are safe from any supernatural

- His behaviors would slowly start to become more creepy and yandere like but its always for the better of you

- It’s what will keep you safe

- He’s never had a problem with people you hang out with

- They make you happy! He wants you to be happy!

- But he wants you to be safe as well

- Happy and safe

- He will observe your friends behaviors and if he feels like they are going to hurt you he will cut them off right there

- They will be the littlest of red flags to him

- Simply saying something not so nice to you would set him off

- He will try and keep you away from them

- He will even tell the people to stay away from you if he has to… but he doesn’t want to go to such extremes

- He just wants to protect you!

- And its not just with friends, with strangers and supernaturals as well

- If he sees you talking to a stranger or a dangerous supernatural he will step in next to you and defend you if needed

- Kou just so happened to be there at the right time… what a hero

- He wants your praise

- He wants you to tell him how much of a hero he is to you and how much you need him to protect you

- This is how he thinks you see him in his delusional mind

- However, you found it creepy how he was always there when you didn't even know it and started to distance yourself

- What…?

- Why would you distance yourself from the person who’s protecting you?

- He wouldn’t be able to take this, you are putting yourself in danger

- He wouldn’t kidnap you, but he will kill the people he thinks are a threat

- It’s the same like supernaturals

- He needs to take out the bad ones

- Kou is the do things in the moment type of person

- After he kills someone he will look down at the body in pure shock

- He did this…? How…

- Yet he still hears that little voice in his head say that what he did if for your benefit

- He will take out whoever he needs to

- Eventually it will be just you and him

- No one standing in the way of your guys love

- He will give you his usual smile as he hugs you tightly, promising how he will never leave you

- And its what you need to hear

- You need him by your side

- You need him to be your hero

- You need him…

- She was definitely obsessed with you before she even started talking to you

- Whether she learned about you existence through Tsukasa or Natsuhiko, she learned about you existence

- She would study you and try and find out who you are

- She would have her ways of doing her own background research

- But there was something about you… you interest her

- Everything that she found out about you… she wanted to know more about you

- Simple background research turned into her completely stalking you

- She would find every social media account you have and would watch you when you are not looking

- Let's be honest, Tsukasa found out about this and he encouraged her

- It’s not like she wasn’t already stalking you, Tsukasa just helped

- Sakura would soon introduce herself to you, using her charm to become friends with you quick

- She will over to do little things such as walk you home to stay with you longer

- She isn’t the type of yandere to take you away from people, shes okay with you hanging out with your friends

- But she demands your love

- The more she's around you the more she realizes how much she loves you

- This is her ticket for love and you will not mess it up for her

- Whether it be by you not loving her back or by not meeting up to her expectations

- You are her love

- She will start to idolize you and if you don’t meet those expectations she has for you, she can be rather.. angry about it

- She wants you to love her

- She wants you to embrace her and hold her close to you

- She wants you more than anything

- Just you

- Sakura has good instincts so to think you can run away from her is very foolish

- When you start to distance yourself, for whatever the reason is, shes in complete shock

- What did she do? How did she mess up? Everything was going to plan… why?

- She will fucking loose it

- She will go on a violent spree to let out her emotions

- One of your friends might go missing as well… it's an unfortunate thing

- She will try and calm herself, knowing that she can’t just kidnap you

- She will plot something else

- Distance yourself, sure, she will still follow you

- She will stay close to you no matter

- She will continue her falls delusion of you in this false reality that you love her

- She will go insane

- After a while, Tsukasa would probably kidnap you for her

- Sakura would be so overjoyed to see that you are hers

- You will stay in the school and Tsukasa would make sure you don’t escape.. he thinks you two are a cute couple and your love is cute

- She will keep you all to herself as she embraces you in her arms

- She will do various activities with you, such as reading, talking, cuddling, and anything else you are interested in

- She doesn’t care about your happiness as much as she cares about your own

- Besides, in her mind you are happy

- Happy with her

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating.

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegardener @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

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dreamteamspace · 3 years

Text

They really went there huh

/rp (good lord I rly hyperfixated on this essay huh)

torture tw, abuse tw, manipulation tw, gaslighting tw

So the Dream SMP built a character, once maybe morally gray, who slipped straight into villany with little to no desire to change, and willing to cause a LOT of pain to get his way. Despite this, he doesn’t question what he does enough to stop, justifying his actions with a good intent that doesn’t come close to justifying what he’s done.

C!Dream is unremorseful of what he’s done, he’s quite literally manipulated and gaslit (like actually, not in the way everyone keeps throwing the word around) c!Tommy, almost drove him to take his last life- like, jesus christ. That’s not even to mention blowing up L’Manburg three times, encouraging c!Wilbur, wanting the discs JUST to have power over c!Tommy, etc.

SO, he gets thrown in a box for it so he doesn’t hurt anybody anymore, making his own hubris his downfall (narrative consequence my beloved). This leads us to a good finale - the bad guy, the person who’s caused objectively the most pain and destruction, is now unable to do so anymore, taken down by the person whom he tried to weaken. It is also revealed he was planning on blackmailing and threatening pretty much everyone, but now everyone gets their stuff back.

Good, right?

Especially for the finale, yeah! The message of the finale is good, c!Tommy manages to escape his abuser with nothing more but his clothes on his back and fights his way back to c!Tubbo and his home.

He doesn’t let his trauma (which is still very present!) let him become a terrible person (arguably the way that c!Dream DID let his frustrations make him a terrible person, c!Tommy, despite bearing quite a heavy weight, recognizes when he begins to turn that way and actively works against it).

It shows that while alone, c!Tubbo and c!Tommy were outfought by Dream, but because c!Tommy went the length to ask for help (which he didn’t even really seem to be relying on actually showing up), he wins! It truly is a good message.

C!Tommy escapes his abuser and manipulator, refuses and fights his trauma to not become someone he doesn’t want to be, and defeats his abuser by asking for help and receiving it, even more than he thought he’d get. He refuses to play c!Dream’s “game”, refuses till the very last moment to let c!Tubbo die, to surrender and say goodbye to him.

So, great! Good finale! C!Dream The Villain is boxed like a fish in a prison of, quite literally, his own making. It sent a good message to people. C!Tommy wasn’t expected to forgive him and did, in fact, axe him down twice, causing c!Dream to finally fall from his high horse.

Most media would stop at this point, say the villain is now defeated and never show them again, or have them come back another one or two seasons later, escaped and seemingly unharmed and worse than ever.

Alternatively, there’s a throwaway line, (or, in good media, a genuine, reasonable backstory, complete with remorse and bad role models and complicated situations), that allows the villain to be redeemed.

In GOOD redemption arcs (See: Zuko from avatar tbh), the villain was already never quite as heartless, or stressed their good intent, or felt remorse for what they felt they “had to do”. Then, ideally, the villain takes a looooong time adjusting their habits, regretting their actions and changing until they’re considered redeemed.

Not on the Dream SMP, though.

They don’t stop at c!Dream’s defeat.

He doesn’t dissapear off-screen and is never spoken of again. His life continues on, everyone’s does, just like it would in reality. He doesn’t magically want to become a better person, far from it. So no redemption. But he doesn’t dissapear, either.

They go on to, slowly, stress how awful the conditions in Pandora’s Vault are. c!Bad says c!Dream should be imprisoned, but at least at slightly better conditions. We’re in very VERY morally gray territorry here. Nobody says c!Dream is a good person, of course not, but even c!Bad - who knows Dream was planning on keeping c!Skeppy in a cage to control him with - goes, “yeah, he should stay boxed, but does he really need to like... suffer suffer?”

Still, c!Dream seems to be kindof inconsistent in his behavior. Is he faking his pain? Is he not? His actions don’t fully make sense for either take. He acts differently to each person, but at the same time some things he does don’t make sense if he were just fishing for pity.

Then c!Sam admits to trying (and thinking he succeeded) to “break Dream’s will”, to quite literally starving him for weeks.

Okay, so now we’re a step further. C!Dream is now suffering even more, although already boxed and unable to hurt anyone. Pandora’s Vault is one thing, but now c!Sam just seems to be out for revenge and nothing more. Instead of spending his time with c!Tommy, he spends his time pickaxing(?) c!Dream.

C!Sam isn’t an angel, and we should all know that by now. He does what he thinks is right, but he’s deeper than that, all characters on the DSMP are.

He cares deeply for the Badlands, and would always choose them above anybody else. He’s a capitalist. He built the prison because it would benefit the Badlands resource-wise, despite knowing Dream would probably use it on his enemies, and it was no secret that ALL members of L’Manburg, especially c!Tommy, are his enemies. C!Sam, undoubtedly, knew that. He still built it.

Arguably, he didn’t know about c!Dream’s attachment obsession at the time, but the point still stands.

People have already latched onto the untold story happening between c!Dream and c!Sam, and frankly, we barely know enough about it. Does c!Sam torture him regularly? Do they talk? Does c!Dream try to verbally fight back? CAN he fight back? We don’t know! We’ve gotten proof for both, between c!Sam saying that c!Dream is terrifying even in prison and c!Dream going silent to go on strike. We don’t have enough of an idea how bad or how good it truly is.

So the people who prefer to humanize c!Dream and explore morality imagine c!Sam to downright torture him, people that prefer to see c!Dream as nothing but evil due to his actions imagine prison on the DSMP to not be equivalent to real life prison, and thus nowhere near as torturous as people are making it out to be.

Now all that is thrown out the window as c!Quackity quite literally tortures him.

So now the internet is faced with a question that, judging by some of the impulsive reactions *cough cough* celebrating torture *cough*, it didn’t turn out to be ready for.

Tell me.

How far do we go?

C!Dream hurt a LOT of people. He did a lot of things that caused irreparable damage. Now what? Do we torture him forever? Why? Because he deserves it? How do we determine that without comparing one kind of pain to another?

It’s custom and kindof generally respectful not to compare people’s pain too accurately, because different things vary greatly in severity depending on the person that experiences them.

At what point do we say he’s suffered enough without comparing exile to the prison?

And if we DO compare, does that even make the question easier to answer?

And if he’s never suffered enough ever, killing them would be a mercy...

At what point has a person done enough damage that they “deserve” to die? What if someone only did half of the things c!Dream did. But if c!Dream gets infinite punishment, and half of infinity is still infinity, do they ALSO deserve endless suffering?

Do you think every person that did something you can’t emphasize with deserves to suffer for eternity and die?

I’m not saying we SHOULD emphasize with c!Dream. He did things we cannot justify, that NOTHING can justify. He did things that were, by their nature, unjustified.

I’m also not saying anybody should forgive him. I think it’s a GOOD thing that c!Tommy doesn’t want nor is narratively pushed to forgive c!Dream.

But c!Dream doesn’t need c!Tommy’s forgiveness to be... a person.

There’s a saying that I’m sure you know, that goes “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”, because there’s things you wouldn’t want any human being to experience. Not because you like them, not cause you think they’re right, but because they’re human.

And perhaps this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think c!Dream being a bad person justifies dehumanizing him, because then we get into an area where someone needs to meet criteria just to be human.

I met someone once, whom, because of outside circumstances I knew I probably wouldn’t meet again. We’d been getting along just fine for people who just met, and were both getting into an interesting discussion about morality. They kept insisting upon something I kept refuting, so they said they needed to get something off their chest.

They proceeded to tell me that they had, years ago, while a teen, manipulated someone in a relationship, pushed boundaries and tried to convince them to do things they didn’t really want to do to get what they wanted.

They cried, while telling me, too terrified to tell anybody they know, terrified nobody would ever speak to them again, insanely regretful of their actions. They didn’t know whether to go back and apologize or just stay as far away as humanly possible, didn’t know which one the right thing to do is.

It had been years, by then, and I talked them through it. I said that what they did was bad, and there’s no going around that. But I also said what I saw, which is someone who would never do something like that ever again. I saw a human being. Someone who regrets a mistake they did and now, after enough time has passed, would do anything to make it undone.

Someone who is too terrified to be close to anybody in fear that they would do it again. I don’t remember if they already went to therapy or not, but it was definitly on the table, or in the near future.

They asked me how I could possibly even keep talking to them after they told me all that. They implied they felt like some kind of monster despite literally chocking back tears, firmly convinced they don’t deserve to be close to anybody in their life ever again.

I never swerved from the fact that what they did was wrong, and harmful. But I also told them they’re human. The universe isn’t keeping score. They want to be a better person now, and they were never going to learn how if they never let themselves be close to anybody.

I told them to seek therapy, and to slowly, carefully, try. Assured them that the fact that they regret it so strongly will at least help them in not falling back into the same pattern, and if they do, they can learn to recognize that.

They thanked me after the conversation, genuinely, especially for the fact that I didn’t sugarcoat what happened, because I know otherwise it would’ve felt like I was lying, like I was just sparing their feelings. I wasn’t. I was thinking about how to make sure they get to live without hurting anybody.

As per the circumstances, we didn’t speak again after that, which we knew basicly from the very start.

I still think about that conversation a lot.

Do you think they should’ve been locked up for life after it happened, instead?

Do you think this real human being, that I spoke to, that took years to realize their mistake - and never would have realized it if they hadn’t had the time to, if they’d been killed right afterwards - deserves to suffer forever?

Let me tell you something, from someone who’s been in more than one abusive situation: People that hurt you are human.

That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. That doesn’t mean you have to like them. That doesn’t mean you have to make an effort to understand them. That doesn’t mean you need to go anywhere near them ever again.

You can hate them. You can be angry at them. You can (and should) go as far away from them as possible, and/or defend yourself.

But that doesn’t mean you have to dehumanize them.

You’re allowed to hate and dislike people that are human, because you’re human, especially if they hurt you. That’s how life is.

And to go back to my original point - c!Quackity torturing c!Dream is not something that should be celebrated.

There’s a difference between necessary measures (locking c!Dream up so he doesn’t hurt anyone), and torturing people for fun.

It’s not right. It’s never going to be right, and do not justify literal torture on human beings, and do not make someone lower-than-human to justify torturing them.

Taking revenge on someone for what they did tenfold is romanticized, I know, but I promise you it’s not actually as cool as it sounds.

#dreamwastaken #quackity #awesamdude #dream smp #dream smp analysis #dreamteamspace speaks #negativity #fandom critical #its finished and Im finally free #c!Dream #c!Quackity crit #c!Quackity critial

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hotdamnhunnam · 4 years

Text

Jax Teller: Fuck You Better

A/N: Hello loves!! I’m SO OBSESSED with the below request 😍 In which you tell your BFF Jax Teller that your vanilla sex life with your current fuckbuddy just isn’t fulfilling your needs any longer... and Jax offers to satisfy your hungers. Fuck you rougher—harder, better, faster, stronger 😏🔥

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex Request: This AMAZING anon request

Word Count: ~2.1k

“Jax... you really didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Kick your fuckbuddy’s butt?” your best friend ever, badass motherfucker Jax Teller, approaches you now with his signature smirk and his swaggering strut. Glances back over his shoulder at the loser you’re ashamed to call your lover. The poor guy is in pieces. It was supposed to be a pointless little brawl, here in the middle of a random SAMCRO shindig, but Jackie Boy is standing proud and tall, as if he just won the Olympics. Everyone’s cheering for the golden champion with his stupidly sexy blonde man bun.

Jax snickers back again at the opponent he just effortlessly vanquished. “He fights like a pussy ass bitch, to be honest. For your sake I really hope his dick hits better than his fists.”

“His dick is none of your business. And I won’t be getting any for a while now you’ve fucked him up like this,” you hiss, licking your lips, trying hard not to stare at the sweat on your BFF’s bare sculpted chest as it glistens and drips. Jax has just walked off from the scuffle without so much as a scratch; meanwhile your fuckboy was just owned out of his wits, clearly outmatched.

Jax brushes it off with a laugh, playfully slapping you on the back. “Look, he started the fight. Said I’d been checking you out all night.”

Yeah fucking right. You heave a sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell him he was wrong, then?”

“I’m a lot of things, Y/N. Liar ain’t one of ‘em,” he replies, leaning in toward you with a twisted little twinkle in his eyes.

He’s always been a shameless flirt—even with you, the girl he’s friend-zoned for forever. Though you know that he means nothing by the words, that doesn’t stop the wet hot fire he ignites between your thighs.

“That dress is way too short,” he mutters, as the fire in your cunt burns even hotter. “And way too tight. The whole damn world can see that pretty little ass of yours. But you already knew that, right? Like knowing every man here wants a piece of you tonight?”

Not every man, you wish you could snap back at Jax. Not the one I want. Before you can, some random slut comes up behind him and attacks, clingy hands clawing at his bulging biceps. “Hey there, champ. Can I get you cleaned up?”

“Sounds good, darlin’...” Jax readily accepts, turning toward you then. “Oh, one more thing—he said I could smack his girl’s ass if I win.”

“No he fucking didn’t...!” you attempt to protest, but then Jax slaps you through your dress and you let out a goddamn yelp. The slut inside you can’t be helped.

He grins back at you as he struts off with the skank that he’s going to fuck, clearly pleased with himself. And it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck. Being in love with your BFF Jax Fucking Teller is literal hell.

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

“Hey, can we talk?”

You have no clue what just possessed you to come up to Jax’s dorm room uninvited. But whatever just compelled you to burst through the door—conveniently unlocked—you couldn’t fight it. It was probably the thought of yet another undeserving whore devouring his gorgeous cock. You’ve never seen it, but it’s not as if you have to see, to know Jax has the world’s most perfect penis. With a face, a body like his? Honestly. There’s no denying this. It’s straight up fucking science.

Thankfully, you came up fast enough that Jax and his bitch haven’t yet taken their clothes off. The bitch blinks up at you, agape—appalled—like you just barged in on their wedding day. You just glare daggers back at her from where you’re standing in the doorway. Sure, it’s immature; you really have no beef with her, and this is not her fault. Of course she takes your unexpected presence as an insult. But you can’t be brought to care right now. You need to be alone with Jax, and if that requires cock-blocking her ass, then that’s how.

He meets your gaze, those baby blues fucking you up in countless ways, and you might cum just from the eye contact. You are a desperate whore for Jax and that’s a fact.

“You should probably get out,” he tells the slut who’s straddling him in the bed. The poor girl can’t believe the words out of his mouth, but Jax said what he said.

If there’s one good thing that comes of being his best friend, it’s that he treats you with a shitload of respect. Crow eaters mean nothing to him when you’re in the room. Then again, who the hell needs respect when you’d give it all up to become a dumpster for Jax Teller’s cum...?

With an indignant huff, the other woman grabs her stuff and storms out of his dorm, making sure to bump forcefully into your shoulder as she passes through the door. You really harbor no hard feelings for the poor unfortunate whore. Pity, for sure—must fucking suck to be her, being so suddenly deprived of a shot with Jax Teller. No doubt it would’ve been the best sex of her life, ever.

In any event, now that she’s left, you and your BFF are alone together.

Jax gets up from the bed, lazily raking a hand through the lustrous blonde hair on his head. Well aware that he’s covered in sweat. “I should, uh—hit the shower...”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you tell him, stepping inside and locking the door. Why did you lock it? Fuck it.

What you don’t tell him is that he smells fucking divine. How is it even possible for anyone to smell like heaven, in the state that he’s in? His smooth flawless skin is so slick with his sweat that it shimmers and shines and might seriously strike you blind.

He stands across from you with his hands on his hips, white waistband of his boxers sticking up above his jeans, tongue flicking out between his lips. Those hands that drive you fucking wild in your dreams, that tongue you’d sell your soul to suck. “So you wanted to talk?”

You clear your throat and bob your head in an attempt at a casual nod. Trying to come off as cool when you’re anything but. “Yeah, it’s just—I just wanted to vent, a little bit. About that thing you said... to be honest, fuckboy’s dick doesn’t hit better than his fists. The sex is always lame and plain vanilla and I’m sick of it. Even in bed, he’s a pussy ass bitch.”

Jax bites his lip, stifling back a silent laugh. Cleary quite glad—though not at all surprised—that he was right. “So he fucks the way he fights? Hey, so do I...”

You roll your eyes, playfully punching him in the side... which was a mistake because now you’ve made contact with his sweaty skin and it’s too much to take.

Needless to say, Jax takes the punch in stride. The smug smile on his face is miles wide. “Think it’s high time you dump his ass if he can’t keep you satisfied.”

Something about that fleeting skin-to-skin contact, and his closeness in this moment, and his maddening masculine scent, has you crazily pacing the room and saying all manner of shit that you’re doomed to regret. “And then what? Fuck around until another Son decides he wants to claim me as his own personal slut? It’s not like I can have the one I really want.”

You take a second to tune in to your own internal dialogue, currently scolding yourself for being so dumb—where the fuck are you going with this, you insane little cunt?

Jackson doesn’t seem to be having the same reaction. For unthinkable reasons, while standing there all godlike and glistening, he appears to be very sincerely listening. “You, um... got your eye on someone?”

“Always have,” you blurt out, and you really want to snap a goddamn bear trap over your moronic mouth.

Now Jax has you with your back up against the wall and you cannot think straight at all. Blonde hair and blue eyes and broad shoulders tower over you so tall. “Yeah? What’s he like?”

Oh, I don’t know, just look at your own beautiful reflection in my big wide stupid eyes. The thoughts you keep in silence are as stupid as your actual reply. “He has a really big... um... bike.”

The cheeky bastard laughs as if he knows you meant to talk about his dick. He probably did. But then again there’s something shy inside his eyes that makes it look as if he genuinely doesn’t know shit. “Now that’s not very specific. Come on, Y/N—just tell me who he is. You know there are no secrets between us.”

Yeah, sure, except the secret that I’m scientifically convinced of the perfection of your penis. Somehow you manage to take back some of your dignity right this instant, if only for a minute. “Mind your own motherfucking business.”

Jax is still doing that sincere listening thing and you quite honestly can’t handle it. He’s looking at you now as if you’re something breathtaking to witness. Just like he is. “Wow. You really like this guy, for serious.”

Heat rises to your face, insides melting to mush beneath his gaze. “That obvious?”

“You’re getting all worked up just thinking about him,” he notices, going on as if oblivious to the fact that it’s because he’s in the room. “He better be epic, whoever he is.”

Oh, you have no idea, Jax... “And why would you say that?”

Your brain physically breaks upon hearing the words he says next: “Because you’re fucking perfect. Deserve nothing less. You should be with the guy who can love you best. Fuck you best.”

Sweet mother of Jesus. What just even fucking happened? There’s a space between your lips and his, still—just a sliver, and it kills. The moment you give in to this your world is bound to end...

You know that much for certain; you and Jax tried going down this path just once before, so long ago that you’re determined to forget, the only moment of your friendship you regret. It’s never just a kiss. It’s always more, always a risk, of losing him. Of losing this. And you can’t let it happen again.

You’re fucking trembling, heartbeat fighting, but you have to say the right thing. Even if it hurts you more than anything. “Christ, Jax—‘fucking perfect’? You really mean that? As a... as a friend?”

The word weighs heavy on your tongue. No word has ever felt so wrong, but there it is, and he can taste the bitter heartbreak off your lips. Bites his and shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess. Just being honest. BFFs, what else?”

Love is literal hell.

And just like that, in a split instant, all the reasons he had so sincerely listened, anything that he had felt... is fucking gone. Or so he can pretend, at least. He always fakes it well, hiding behind the image of the savage sexy beast. “So what, we done?” he snaps, swiping his hand through his disheveled hair and casting you a cold blue stare. “I was about to get my dick wet, till you came up to complain about how your pussy ass fuckboy sucks in bed.”

You deal his chest a harder-than-just-playful punch because you seriously hate him just that much. “God, you don’t have to be a dick about it. Honestly, Jax, do you give a shit about anything other than sex?”

“Can’t live without it. Dick ain’t gonna suck itself.”

At this point the words are just flying all over the room. Nothing even makes sense. “Ugh—you know what, that’s the difference between you and him. You and everyone else.”

“What? That I fucking win?”

“That’s what you like to think. That you’re some kind of motherfucking king. Strutting around like you’re the god of everything.”

“Maybe I am. Takes balls to be the fucking champ.”

“Yeah, well, your balls can kiss my ass.”

... Oh fucking shit. Those words may have been just a little too... accurate. Now there’s an image in your head, a vivid image, and it’s... pretty fucking graphic. Pornographic. Fucking magic.

And of course Jax has to say the words to match it. “Bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, bitch.”

... Oh. Fucking. Shit.

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

... Continued in Part 2!

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did!! ❤️

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 3 years

Text

Fate’s Gamble [Masterlist]

Royalty AU; Magic AU

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader, ft. Choi Yeonjun

Summary: In a time where to love a knight was considered high treason, a life of chaos was brought to a swift end with your fairy tale ending nowhere in sight. But when the knight plead to Fate, she took pity on him, and thus formed the gamble that would rupture the Heavens.

Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

[Main Masterlist]

[Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

This is a rewrite of my previous series A Tricky Game of Fate

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Last Updated: 1 September 2021

Status: Hiatus

Chapters

Character Profiles | {TW: None}

Teaser | {TW: None}

Chapter 1 | {TW: Unsettling Themes, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts (Non-Explicit), Mentions of Murder (Non-Explicit)}

Chapter 2 | {TW: Unsettling Themes, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts (Non-Explicit), Mentions of Murder (Non-Explicit), Rifle, Saber, Gunshot, War, Descriptions of Blood}

Chapter 3 | {TW: Unsettling Themes, Implied Major Character Death}

Chapter 4 | {TW: Unsettling Themes, Implied Minor Character Death, Implications of Insanity, Descriptions of a Tense Moment, Mildly Suggestive Themes}

Fate’s Grim Tales

Taeyang - The Greedy King | {TW: Implied Major Sickness, Vampires}

Mingi - The Blood Bearer | {TW: Death Mention}

No One - The Enchanted Forest | {TW: Death Mention}

Requests

None yet

AMMs (Filled with Spoilers and in Order of Received)

Yeonjun | ‘OKAY Whew anyway, did you ever really love Y/N? Or was it always just an obsession?’

Death | ‘I'm trying to think of other things to ask uhhhhh @ atgof death ayo you lookin kinda seccsy 👀😀 I’m so sorry I can’t think of anything lmao’

Seonghwa | ‘I thought of another thing! what's stopped you from just, murdering Yeonjun? Like, just snap his neck or smth’

Fate, Time, and Death | ‘For the sake of my own sanity, I know he said he wouldn't, but would Seonghwa be allowed to kill Yeonjun? Or would that reset the timeline? Coz Noah fence to Yeonjun but I would kill him for Seonghwa 😗‘

Yeonjun | ‘Okay thennnn, how would you react if I called you a sexy mf 👀’

Seonghwa | ‘Genuine question now, how are you bby I hope you're well, have you ever told the rest of Ateez about the whole reincarnation, fate, thing?’

Yeonjun | ‘You know what @ fate's gamble Yeonjun, I apologise for calling you a bitch, that was wrong of me (please don't kill me lmao)’

#masterlist #ateez #txt #tomorrow x together #ateez x reader #txt x reader #ateez fics #txt fics #seonghwa x reader #yeonjun x reader #my writings #fate's gamble

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charlemange1 · 4 years

Text

Ranking adaptations of Victor Frankenstein from least to most evil

The character Victor Frankenstein has been adapted many times over the years. Sometimes he’s a heroic YA protagonist while others have him using his clone army to wipe out humanity and take over the world. But which Victor is truly the worse?

After reading several adaptations, I’ve decided to rank Victor’s morality in each one and find out! The gothic lit community doesn’t talk about these adaptations much, so hopefully this list can introduce the fandom to some of the lesser-known interpretations out there!

This is part one, which ranks printed retellings only. If people enjoy it, I’ll do a part two and merge the films into the mix!

Disclaimers (please read):

SPOILERS! Victor’s actions in these adaptations will be thoroughly analyzed with no regard for the spoiler tag.

Some of the more evil Victor’s get into dark territory, and while I will not go into extensive detail (lest I go insane) if mentions of abuse, sexual themes, possessive behavior and murder bother you, don’t make my mistake and turn back! (I will leave an additional reminder when said parts come up)

This list centers on Victor’s actions and NOT the quality of the books themselves—so if you see your favorite title getting a low score it’s not because it’s a bad book—it’s because Victor is a jerk.

This list is by no means complete, just the ones I’ve read personally.

These are my silly personal opinions and if you disagree with my ranking that’s perfectly fine!

Ranking: On a 1-10 scale, with 10 being fantastic and 0 being “run if you see this man in a dark alley.”

10/10 Perfect Sunbeam. Overall great, wholesome guy!

*crickets chirp in a serene backdrop of a Romantic field*

Good dude

Junji Ito’s Frankenstein: 8.5/10

Props to the master of manga monsters for making the twist be that Victor is not secretly evil/insane.

Not only does Victor pity the creature and agree to create a mate for him—but he keeps his word! This is especially touching when you consider how the creature treks alllllll the way to Switzerland to dig up Justine’s head as a face for the bride. (Henry says he probably didn’t know it was Justines, but come on, you just happened to pick up the head of the girl you framed and carried it for miles across land and sea to deliver it to Victor instead of stopping somewhere closer? I don't buy it.)

Victor even goes the extra mile, kindly stating:

Yet the bride rejects the creature (not Victor’s fault) and in revenge, the creature kills Henry, Elizabeth, and Alphonse. In retaliation, Victor follows him onto the ice and relates his tale to Walton before dying.

Victor's actions are nothing heroic, but what more could he have done? He didn’t break his promise and kill the bride like in the original novel and he clearly cared about reanimating “Justine” as shown in the above image.

And did I mention this manga was done by Junji Ito? Would YOU stay in the same room if you created a Junji Ito monster? Didn't think so! After the initial mistake of abandoning his monster, this Victor did the best he could to make amends and protect his family--making him an overall good person.

Decent guy

This Dark endeavor by Kenneth Oppel: 7/10

Serving as a prequel to the original novel, This Dark Endeavor tells the untold story of what leads young Victor Frankenstein to create his monster.

While Victor very much struggles with his angsty dark desires (bad), he tirelessly searches for the alchemic "Elixir of Life" to save his twin brother (good). A brother who is more talented than Victor, has the heart of his love interest, and Victor believes everyone prefers over himself.

Good on you, Victor, for letting the love for your brother override understandable sibling jealousy. If that wasn’t enough to make him decent, letting a few fingers be cut off to save his twin definitely does.

What brings Victor down to a 7 is his relationship with Elizabeth. It’s born out of jealousy from her loving his twin rather than genuine affection. Even if this retelling makes Elizabeth a feisty, pants-wearing independent female (to lessen the possessive undertones Victor exhibits, I presume? Read it and judge for yourself), the relationship does nothing positive for his character. Tricking someone into kissing you is a jerk move, bro.

Ok I guess….

Such Wicked Intent by Kenneth Oppel 6/10

The sequel to This Dark Endeavor loses Victor’s careful balance of good and bad traits its predecessor boasted. Victor wasn’t perfect in TDE, but the majority of his negative actions stemmed from trying to save his ill brother and were mostly forgivable. In Such Wicked Intent, his understandable sibling jealously now comes off as petty since Victor’s twin is already dead.

Victor trying to bring his brother back to life (good) is undermined by his growing reliance on supernatural butterflies that increase his abilities despite other characters pointing out the obvious danger. Victor is also not the greatest parent to Twin 2.0 and the previous issues with him and Elizabeth from book 1 don’t improve. He’s the same Victor from TDE, but the plot focusing on his selfish desires makes him more flawed as a result.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (the original novel): 6/10

Depending on how you interpret the events of the original novel, Victor is either a college Dad in over his head and trying his best after an initial mistake, or a misogynistic, irresponsible jerk only capable of thinking of himself. There are enough professional articles to support both interpretations, and I’m not the person to pick one over the other.

However, if the narrative he tells Walton is to be taken as truth (and the creature not correcting Victor's account tells me it is), Victor spent most of the novel trying to fix his mistake (intentions may vary)—and isn’t too bad as a result.

Pride and Prometheus by John Kessel: 5/10

Despite being a crossover with Pride and Prejudice, Kessel tries to be as faithful to the original Frankenstein as possible. However, the few changes he makes hurts Victor from a moral standpoint.

Victor’s not the greatest guy when handling the romantic gestures of both Mary Bennet and Henry. Also, murdering his creature's mate with poison right before they leave to start their happily ever after is awful, but understandable from his point of view.

Then there's P&P's ending, where Walton describes meeting Victor on the ice. It’s revealed that Victor left killing the creature's mate and the Bennet’s out of his narrative. While this is probably Kessel justifying why Jane Austen’s characters and his changes weren’t mentioned in the original text (and who can blame him?) it does make Victor a liar. In the original, the creature never called Victor out for omitting anything—so altering the story on his deathbed places P&P’s Victor a rung lower than his original counterpart.

Ehh….

Frankenstein According to Spike Milligan: 4/10

As a nearly-word-for-word retelling with minor, humorous changes by the comedian Spike Milligan, Victor is more pathetic than anything. He’s a harmless, pathetic, hilarious jerk.

Some quotes:

"I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity. From a great distance my family could see me bounding with unbridled joy and hilarity." (53)

"'I tell you,’ I said, ‘that murderer had his trousers down, was eating fish paste sandwiches and traveling 100 miles per hour.’" (59)

"‘I can offer you no consolation,’ said he.

‘Then piss off.’ said I." (54)

Here’s his jail visit with Justine in animatic form (and me shamelessly plugging my other creative endeavors)

Monster by Neal Bell 3.5/10

Warning: contains mentions of animal abuse

On one hand, Victor wants to conquer death to save his family and is clearly disturbed over Justine's and his mother’s death. However, the man expresses little concern at the possibility of William getting struck by lightning with his kite in front of his mother who had already lost 9 children.

He can also talk to dogs and cats (for…some reason?) who are portrayed as intelligent beings with feelings—yet that doesn’t stop him from eating said dogs in the Arctic and killing said cat after threatening her with a knife. He also flings around Bible verses while being painfully egotistical about “being God”.

Using Henry’s romantic affections toward him to his advantage, briefly forcing himself on Elizabeth, and tenderly caring for his monster only to abandon him after the creature expresses a want to die just makes him an awful person all around. The fact he doesn’t do these things with clear malicious intent saves him from being any lower.

Quotes:

ELIZABETH: A bone. A brittle bit of skin. A tooth—

VICTOR: Would you not be womanish now?

Be useful. Here—hold the Leyden jar,

While I attach the string…

VICTOR: A satisfactory morning, then, Mister Puss—tormenting the dogs?

CAT: God gave me a duty. I fulfill it.

VICTOR: Papa says there is no God.

(He takes out a knife)

Pretty bad dude

WARNING: Please note that some of these Victors get into unsavory territory. If the mention of sexual themes/abuse/murder bothers you turn back:

The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein by Peter Ackroyd: 3/10

This one was tricky. The narrative chugs along with Victor being an intelligent, thoughtful guy with only a few obsessive tendencies. He’s chilling with the Shelleys, talking to the poor in the streets and financially supporting Fred’s family along with giving out generous tips. He’s a cool guy. He’s a great dude! He’s….revealed in the final 2 pages to be recounting everything from a mental asylum, the monster was in his head, and he’s actually the one that committed the murders.

Alrighty then. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Having his insanity revealed in the final pages, it’s hard to judge whether there was genuine malicious intent or if Victor truly thought he created the creature and believed he was doing good in trying to “stop” it. No matter his intentions though, the body count remains and a child strangler has no place being anything higher than a 3.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White: 1/10

We all knew this one would make the list. Elizabeth’s first flashback sets up Victor as having serious issues—the question becomes how low will he go? Turns out pretty low.

He’s the one who killed William and framed Justine along with murdering his father, brother Robert and various people at Ingolstadt.

What really makes him despicable is that Elizabeth is the novel's main POV character who only sticks with Victor so she’s not thrown out on the streets. He’s abusive, controlling, dominating, and so possessive that he’ll perfect reanimation so that not even death can take her away from him! Yikes. I can’t stress enough how being in Elizabeth’s POV makes these actions all the more menacing.

Quote:

“There was never another path for you. Consider how much worse it has all been for me. How much I have had to suffer. And how much of that suffering has been caused directly by you!” His face twitched, and his fingers tightened on the pistol. Then he sighed. “It does not do to dwell on it. There is no point in fighting. This is your fate, Elizabeth Frankenstein. I will let no other claim you—not man, not death, not even God.” (279)

Nice guy.

Despite his terrible actions, Victor is trying to "save" Elizabeth from death. In his mind, he wants what’s best for her. It’s a crazy mind that mixed up domination and love, but the fact that his evil actions come from wanting to keep someone he wants to control cares about safe vs. other versions where his crimes stem from wanting to rival god and rule the world, this version isn’t THAT bad. At least his hearts in the right place—even if his mentality is utter garbage.

The Memoirs of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Theodore Roszak 0/10

*insert my screams of insurmountable anguish here*

Caroline: Hey son, you should do NSFW things.

Victor: Sure. I will now do NSFW things.

Victor: *proceeds to do NSFW things*

The reprint of this novel mentions on the cover it’s erotica, but the copy I bought (and to this day have not finished) had no such disclaimer. I’ll break my rule and speak on the quality of this book: there is none. For an alleged “pro-feminism” novel everyone is terrible—and Victor is no exception.

Literally Satan.

Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein Series: -∞/10

So you’ve read far enough to join me in Hell.

Where do even I start? This is a Victor who extended his life to the present day. Who worked with Hitler, Stalin, Castro and regretted the fall of the Third Reich. Who created an army of emotionally deprived “new race” creations to kill people and assume their identities so he could ascend the ranks of politics. Who, once he has enough of his new race integrated into society, desires to commit mass genocide on humanity and establish himself as supreme ruler of the world—only then can he conquer the cosmos as well because why the hell not?

Oh, and he’s a wife-beater/murderer too! Which isn’t a problem, considering he can create a new wife whenever he sees fit (he was on Erika 5 by book 3). The sheer lack of any positive traits in this man is laughable. Koontz really, REALLY wants to get across that Victor is a bad guy.

And if you’re somehow not convinced by the above description, here are some quotes I pulled from the first 3 novels as a bonus to reeeeeally sell how despicable this clown is:

Regarding Elizabeth:

“Victor had not loved Elizabeth. Love and God were myths he rejected with equal contempt. But Elizabeth had belonged to him. Even after more than 200 years, he still bitterly resented the loss of her, as he would have resented losing an exquisite antique porcelain vase if [his creature] had smashed that instead of the bride,” (3.97).

Regarding Mary Shelley:

“When Mary Shelley took a local legend based on truth and crafted fiction from it, she made Victor a tragic figure and killed him off. He understood her dramatic purpose for giving him a death scene, but he loathed her for portraying him as tragic and as a failure. Her judgment of his work was arrogant. What else of consequence did she ever write? And of the two, who was dead—and who was not?” (1.79-80)

(Author Note: For your information, Victor, The Last Man is considered by some to be the first dystopian novel)

His…ah…"friends”:

“Fire was featured in some of his less pleasant memories. The great windmill. The bombing of Dresden. The Israeli Mossad attack on the secret Venezuelan research complex that he had shared with Mengele in the years after World War Two. Nevertheless, he liked to read to the accompaniment of a cozy crackling fire,” (1.76).

“Victor admired Hitler. The Führer knew talent when he saw it.

In the 1930s and 40s, Victor had worked with Mengele and others in Hitler's privileged scientific class. He made considerable progress in his work before the regrettable allied victory…the problem with the Führer had been that his roots were in art and politics…The future did not belong either to artists or to politicians,” (2.24-25).

Dat ego tho:

“When I die, those cells will be capped descend a signal that will be relayed by satellite to everyone made of new race flesh, to every meat machine that walks. And you will fall down dead,’…Victor smiled, anticipating triumph in spite of their silence. ‘Did you think a God would die alone?’” (3.345).

Civilization would not be remade or sustained by Christianity or by Islam. Neither by Scientologists nor by the bright-eyed adherence of the deliciously solipsistic paranoid new religion encouraged by The Da Vinci Code. Tomorrow belonged to scientism. The priests of scientism were not merely robed clerics performing rituals, they were gods, with the power of gods. Victor himself was their Messiah,” (2.25).

“With Victor's unstoppable drive for power, with his singular intellect, with his cold materialism and his ruthless practicality, and now with synchronicity on his side, he had become untouchable, immortal.

He was immortal,” (3.329).

“How they goggled at him, abashed by his wisdom and knowledge, mortified by their ignorance, over-awed by his godlike power,” (3.330).

“’Murder,’ said the caller. ‘murder…excites me.’

Victor kept the growing concern out of his voice. ‘No, your mind is fine. I don't make mistakes.’” (1.156)

Oh yeah, he has a wife, doesn't he:

“This is why Victor requires …the cruel humiliation of his partner. He has long ago transcended the guilt that committing acts of cruelty might spawn in others...the exercise of raw power thrills him,” (1.244).

“I have given you a life…remember that. I have given you a life, and I will choose what you do with it,” (1.464).

Wives view of him:

“She owned literally hundreds of outfits. Having been created to his ideal measurements, Victor had purchased everything…She hoped that someday she would be allowed to shop for herself. When Victor allowed that, she would know she had at last met his standards and earned his trust. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like not to care what Victor—or anyone—thought of her. To be herself. Independent. Those were dangerous thoughts. She must repress them.” (1.107)

And those are just the PG bits, he does much, much worse.

In conclusion:

So yes, Spike Milligan made Victor a pathetic jerk, Casebook made Victor a madman, Memoirs made him an erotic predator, Dark Descent had him as an abusive boyfriend ruthless in possessing “his Elizabeth”, but nearly succeeding at worldwide genocide while abusing/murdering/manipulating people to achieve his goals makes Dean Koontz’s Victor Frankenstein the worse, more morally despicable Victor Frankenstein of them all. At least from what I’ve read.

Annnnd that’s it! If you want me to make a part 2 and add in the films/plays let me know! Hopefully at least one of these peeked your interest as something to check out during spooky season.

Shameless plug-in: here’s my own Frankenstein adaptation

Bonus!

Ranking the books on how much I liked them personally!

Great:

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Nice to see Victor’s villainy stem from family relations and not ego and wanting to defy God for a change.

Junji Ito’s Frankenstein: Phenomenal artwork, fairly faithful adaptation, and the changes serve to put Victor in a better light—which I love! The master of manga monsters himself made the right choice in keeping the creature more monstrous in this version instead of focusing on his humanity.

This Dark Endeavor: Frankenstein characters go on a Harry Potter styled adventure. Need I say more?

Average:

Such Wicked Intent: Victor’s character takes a dip, and pit monsters/life-absorbing butterflies don’t quite fit in a Frankenstein prequel.

Frankenstein According to Spike Milligan: It’s a silly, stupid comedy. Got a few chuckles out of me.

Pride and Prometheus: The concept works way better than it should. However, it follows the original text to a fault and can be boring at points.

Bad:

Warning: contains mentions of suicide

Monster: Victor’s character was far too inconsistent to be likable. He can talk to animals why, exactly?

Casebook of Victor Frankenstein: So, Victor is revealed to be crazy in the final 3 pages? So, the monster was in his head? Alright. But other characters throughout the book SAW the monster and described him like Victor did. So, there’s no way to separate Victor’s POV from reality and that kills the reread value and makes this a waste of time. Don’t get me wrong, the creature being symbolic for Victor’s inner demons is a fascinating direction if done well—and I recommend the essay “Frankenstein: The Man and the Monster” by Arthur Belefant if you want a much shorter exploration of this concept. It’s not perfect, but beats Casebook by a longshot!

Also, taking the real-life suicide of Percy’s wife Harriet and turning it into Victor murdering her and framing it on someone else to mimic Frankenstein’s Justine/William scene is just wrong. You made a woman’s suicide a cheap plot point in your fanfic of the mistress’s novel. That is what you did, author.

Dean Koontz Frankenstein: It starts out good and has great suspense—too bad the actual plot is awful. Victor’s so painfully evil it comes off as comical, the characters are bad/bland, plot holes abound (they state Mary Shelley’s novel is canon, then mention the windmill which was only in the films—so who even IS this Victor? Book or film?). The conclusion in book 3 is one of the most underwhelming finals I’ve ever read, and the creature “cures” a kid of Autism in the final chapter. No really. How this is a book series/comic series/movie is beyond me.

So atrocious I couldn’t bring myself to finish:

Warning: contains mentions of sexual themes

The Memoirs of Elizabeth Frankenstein: It claims to be pro-feminist, but the women “good guys” blatantly state they are grooming children for sexual rituals and Victor and Elizabeth are coerced into doing NSFW things by Victor’s mother in the name of “women’s rights”. Here’s the kicker: these awful actions are framed as being positive. I—a woman—loath this novel. Maybe things got better by the end (and if there was some plot twist that changed the entire setup, I apologize for ranting about nothing) but I’m not reading to that point to find out! This will forever stay both my first and last experience with erotic literature. Thank goodness The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein exists to give us a decent feminist take on Frankenstein!

#THIS TOOK OVER 5 YEARS AND I'M FINALLY DONE!#victor frankenstein #frankenstein #halloween #gothic literature #classic literature #frankenstein adaptations #frankenstien au #frankenstein memes #the casebook of victor frankenstein #the dark descent of elizabeth frankenstein #frankenstein according to spike milligan #dean koontz frankenstein #Monster neal bell #this dark endeavor #such wicked intent #pride and prometheus #charlemagne1

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

Monsters- Chapter ב

Previous chapter

Summary (changed from last time btw): Eyphah has monsters in hir head. How much do the monsters have to control hir life before ze becomes the monster?

Content warnings: OCD/intrusive thoughts/trich, religion, cursing, low self esteem, violence, lmk if I need to add anything.

Playlist (if anyone’s curious)

Word count: 1762

“Monster,” ze whispered to hirself again, as ze walked through hir door. Ze swallowed and put on a fake smile. “Shoshanah! I’m home!”

No response.

Heart thundering, Eyphah rushed across the hallway and up the stairs, footsteps echoing loudly. “Shoshanah!” ze yelled again, ripping the door open. The lights were off, bed empty, sheets slightly ruffled. Hir eyes flicked around wildly until they fell upon a sheet of paper resting on the nightstand.

Eyphah exhaled, grabbing it.

Eyphah-

I know you get worried when I’m not here, so sorry to worry you, but I had to fill in for Yakov at the hospital. I won’t be home until late, so you can have dinner without me. I’m alright and I love you!

Love,

Shoshanah.

“Fucking idiot,” Eyphah muttered, setting the note down and rubbing hir temples. Why did ze have to freak out every time Shoshanah didn’t answer immediately? Why did the monsters in hir head have to fill it with images of Shoshanah lying in her bed, unable to move, dying before hir eyes- or already dead.

And ze was still fucking anxious. “She’s okay,” ze muttered again, shaking hir head. Hir eyebrows itched. A lot, like the fear of stabbing someone with hir sword and finding Shoshanah dead had all physically manifested in hir left eyebrow, needing to be extracted from hir body.

Ze pulled.

And pulled again.

And then wrapped hir hands behind hir back and sat on them, determined not to pull again.

And pulled again.

“I fucking hate you!” ze yelled at hirself. Frustrated, ze stood up and grabbed hir notebook, opening it to the most recent page.

Reasons I don’t want to die:

I want to learn the new sword move.

I love Shoshanah

Shoshanah loves me

Maybe I’ll find a new ahav

No babka when you’re dead

NO RUGELACH WHEN YOU’RE DEAD!

The thought makes me feel sick

I don’t want to die

I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die

Eyphah remembered writing that. Ze’d been baking; latkes, was it? It was Tammuz; last month, and one of the summer ones, but ze hadn’t wanted to let the wrong season stop hir from enjoying latkes. The rest of the memory was a bit blurry. Ze opened up hir drawer to get a spatula and flatten the latkes, but hir gaze fell upon a knife.

Ze imagined grabbing the knife instead of the spoon.

Ze imagined quickly thrusting the knife into hir chest.

Ze imagined bleeding out on the floor, Shoshanah coming to discover hir body and screaming.

Eyphah hadn’t opened that drawer since, nor had ze baked.

It was sad. Ze used to love baking.

Baking and sword fighting; those were hir favorite things to do for fun, but the monsters in hir head made hir terrified of that. What would happen next? Would ze have to avoid Shoshanah, someone she liked to do for fun as well?

Do you even love Shoshanah? Or are you just her ahav out of pity?

“SHUT UP!” ze screamed, and wrote down ten reasons ze loved Shoshanah.

The way she bites her lip and looks down when she finds a joke funny but doesn’t want to admit it’s funny.

Her kisses. She tastes like strawberries.

The way her eyes light up when someone calls her a girl.

The little twirl she does when she wears a dress.

Her singing voice for Havdalah prayers.

Her determination to help others.

When she talks about picking her name and has this sweet little smile on her face.

The way she flaps her hands when she’s happy.

How her hand fits in mine perfectly.

Her laugh, like sunlight.

When Eyphah was thoroughly convinced ze actually loved hir ahav, and wasn’t just faking it and toying with her feelings out of some sick sadism, ze threw the notebook down and paced across the room, trying to release the nervous energy bubbling up inside hir.

Normally, when ze had this buzz of energy, ze tried to get it out by practicing with hir sword. But that wouldn’t work now, would it?

Convenient.

Until hir stomach rumbled, ze had no idea ze was hungry, but ze gratefully accepted the distraction of going to get food. Ze was good at baking, but terrible at cooking, and ze hated using the stove anyway- too big a risk ze’d set something on fire. Bagels, maybe? Shoshanah bought bagels yesterday, and they should have at least a few left. No cream cheese, though; ze’d have to use a knife for that.

Eyphah focused on the motion of hir legs, lifting one up and swinging in front of the other, over and over again, until ze reached the kitchen, because otherwise ze’d get too lost in hir own head to move.

Even without cream cheese, the bagels tasted pretty good, and ze ate them quickly. After reciting the birkat hamazon, the sound of hir voice stopped echoing through the house, and it fell silent. Ze was just alone in here, and it was dark out, and there was nothing stopping the monster in hir from taking over.

Maybe ze should go out into town? Ze hated being around people, always had, and ze was probably a danger to them, but maybe it would be better than being alone in this empty house. Eyphah shifted hir weight on the chair as ze thought, and even the creaking seemed to whisper monster at hir.

It was official, ze had gone insane, and Eyphah needed to get out of this fucking house.

After pausing just long enough to leave a note for Shoshanah- Shoshana didn’t worry like ze did, she probably wouldn’t need it, but maybe it would be nice- ze changed into a cleaner shirt, short sleeved and white like before, but not covered in imaginary blood stains. Then, ze left the house and decided to walk to the jewelry store, hoping to get hirself a new magen david necklace.

It was raining lightly outside, the sky clouded over with grey so ze couldn’t see any stars. Disappointing. Other than that, Eyphah didn’t mind the rain much; sure, hir hair was getting wet, and hir scalp where ze had a bald spot, but it felt kind of nice. Calm. Ze could almost imagine that the rain was washing away all the evil that lived inside hir.

Almost.

Slowly, ze breathed and focused on the noise of hir shoes clicking against the pavement, of the rain gently pattering on the windows of the stores surrounding hir. It had been such a long time since ze just focused on what was going on in the world around hir. Most of the time, ze was too caught up in hir own head, obsessed with the past or dreading with the future. Eyphah let hir eyes linger behind hir a little too long, or narrowed hir vision on the world ze was hurtling into, and and never took the time to look around.

It wasn’t so bad.

Ze ran a finger through hir damp hair, making it look a little more presentable, before walking into the jewelry store. Was it even open this late? Maybe ze should have checked that first. But the lights were on, and loud voices flooded the building, and there were people in there. It felt much warmer than hir empty house.

“Eyphah! Shalom!” someone called, and ze started a little, not having expected to be welcomed. It was easy to forget people liked hir, when ze struggled with liking hirself so much.

Ze waved, responding with “Hey, how’s it going?” Hopefully, if ze initiated a conversation, whoever called hir name would come closer to hir and ze would figure out who it was. Their voice wasn’t instantly recognizable.

They did, in fact, come closer; Chaim, Eyphah remembered. They had been extremely close as children; he had done an aliyah at hir B’nai Mitzvah a few years ago, and while they hadn’t spent as much time together recently, they were still good friends. Eyphah smiled a bit.

“Pretty good,” Chaim said, grinning. He was usually grinning, his slightly crooked teeth showing and dark eyes lighting up. His hair had gotten longer since the last time ze saw him, dark and curling around his warm, copper colored face. “I’m getting a boat soon, finally. I’ve been saving up for years.”

“That’s great! I’m really happy for you!”

“Yeah, I leave in a few weeks, but I’ll be sure to write. How about you, anything interesting going on?”

Eyphah tugged at hir hair, a few strands coming loose. Chaim must have noticed the bald spots, wider and more obvious than the last time they’d spoken a few months ago, but he was nice enough not to comment on it. Nothing very noteworthy had gone on in hir life recently, especially not something ze’d want to share with people.

“I’ve been working on sword fighting more often,” ze said finally, omitting how terrified ze was of hurting anyone. “Gotten pretty good at it.”

“Nice! Please don’t stab me though.”

That’s what I’m worried about. “Haha, I won’t,” Eyphah said weakly, clawing at the skin where hir neck sloped into hir shoulder and tearing it off.

Chaim took a step forward in line as whoever was at the front left. Eyphah followed. “A lot of people here, huh? I thought there’d be hardly anyone.”

“Tu B’av is coming up soon, I guess. A lot of people buying their ahavs jewelry.” Eyphah usually made Shoshanah a cake for Tu B’av; ze supposed ze’d have to come up with something else this year. Hopefully ze didn’t disappoint her.

“Right. Forgot about that.”

Eyphah nodded, shoving thoughts of disappointing Shoshanah out of hir head. “Are you here buying anything for your ahav?” ze asked, the corners of hir mouth turning up.

Chaim snorted. Eyphah had thought he would find that funny, considering he had never and would never love people like ahavs, the mere thought that he would was ridiculous. “I was hoping to get earrings, actually,” he said once he stopped laughing. “Lost my old ones.”

“Disaster,” ze teased.

“You’re one to talk, Mx. I got my hair cut because I burnt it cooking.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You love me, bitch.”

“I do.” Eyphah smiled again- a real genuine smile!- and leaned against Chaim’s wide frame. He made hir feel like a person. That was nice. Ze had forgotten what it was like to feel like a person, not a monster.

#shai's writing #shai types things #monsters #everyone is jewish wip #gonna rebagel with taglist #i love chaim btw #and he's aromantic #if that wasn't obvious

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the-wintershade · 4 years

Text

— just like oil on my hands

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: you and sam having a myriad of bonding moments and the thought of falling for him becomes nearly unbearable, but, just when things get serious, there’s always something in the way. wc: 6.5k+ genre: flirting, good banter, heat, awkwardness and tension

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 04

Sam makes sure to bring you to everything now. It’s as him disclosing his place of complete secrecy has opened up another side of him that you’ve never seen before. Dancing is more exciting, you laugh consistently when you’re together, and you meet up when class isn’t in session.

It’s as if the almost kiss was erased wholly from your memory.

You find out about his obsession with Marvin Gaye and the Trouble Man soundtrack. He’s got the whole album and listens to it almost everyday, but it took you a little bit to pry that slightly embarrassing detail from him.

“Oh, you must really like him.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good.” He laughs into his coffee as you sit at the table you’ve officially decided to co-parent.

“To have over 300 listens to the same songs is pretty impressive considering that you only recently bought the whole album.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he tries his best to keep a straight face, sputtering into his drink. You grin at his momentary lapse in restraint.

“Well, like I said, Marvin Gaye is the best.” He watches you with a mirthful gaze and you squint your eyes at him, knowing there’s a part he’s not telling you.

“Well, Rachel knows that that’s only partially true.” You lean your head down and pretend that she’s agreeing with you, nodding your head enthusiastically. “That’s exactly right Rachel, he’s hiding something from us. He doesn’t love you like I do, Rachel.”

“Rachel, don’t listen to that. You know that I’ve been coming here consistently these past few weeks and we’ve been listening to the soundtrack together.” He folds his arms and leans back as if he’s won this battle. Ha.

“Everytime, huh?” You nonchalantly take a sip.

“Yep.” He purses his lips in triumph.

“Sounds like this is an everyday occurrence.”

“‘Cause it is.” He retorts and you point directly at him. He sputters through his drink, realizing he’s been caught, trying to scramble for a response.

“Ah—the truth finally comes out. He is legally insane.” You spread your arms in victory, sweet sweet victory. “He’s completely addicted to the soundtrack and cannot go a day without listening to it. Your honor, this case is officially closed; you have all of the evidence you need to convict this man.”

“You can’t prove that.” He chuckles, snatching his phone back to put it safely back in his pocket.

“If you were in love with Marvin Gaye, Sam, all you had to do was say the word.” You take a sip while grinning and he fakes annoyance and rolls his eyes before breaking down in laughter. You follow closely behind him.

…

He also takes you rollerskating. He tries to talk you through it and reassures you that it’s pretty easy. He just wasn’t aware that you used to hit the rink every Friday as a kid and although it’s been a while since you’ve gotten back on the rink, you used to be a pro.

This was going to be easy, but it wouldn’t be that hard to play a little prank on him.

He’d helped you lace your skates up tight enough that your ankles wouldn’t roll and you let him, pretending to be all dainty and unaware of the roller skating experience. You did enjoy taking his hands again as he hoisted you to your feet and held most of your weight, making sure you kept your balance.

He was extremely careful, walking you through the steps as you wobbled and shook heavily on phoney weak and unpracticed legs. His hands were strong and steady, a calming pulse about as soothing as his warm voice guiding you how to weave one foot in and out to create some speed.

“There you go, you got it.” His encouraging voice made you smile, a genuine display of teeth. Of course, it wasn’t because you were making small, fake steps of progress, but because he was willing to be patient with you as you moved through the steps. It made your heart soften and a warmth of pure adoration erupt in your core.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” Your legs shook violently and you pretended to stumble. He caught you, his hands gripping your forearms determinedly, not allowing you to even think of falling, drawing you into his strong chest.

He breathed a little slower, looking down at you with concern and laughter. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, laying your performance thick. “Let me try again.”

You stood up straight again and gently tugged against his hands. “I want to see if I can do it without you.”

“Okay, just be careful.” He didn’t look convinced that you could do it, but he slowly let go of you, keeping his hands out just in case you needed the security of them again. He made sure to stay close and you allowed yourself a small smirk at his protectiveness and concern.

You winked at him and spun around, taking off around the circle of the rink, sure that your legs and previous experience would be more than capable of supporting your own weight. You even ignored the stopper on the front and slowed your speed by dragging the side of your wheel.

His mouth hung open as you drifted right next to him, turning around to skate backwards. Then he let out a huff in disbelief. “You lied to me.”

“I thought it’d be a great opportunity to find out how good of a teacher you were.” You shrugged in false innocence and made sure to stay slightly out of his reach, even when he started to drift closer.

“And after I laced up your shoes, after I took all this time to walk you through all of the steps.”

“It was a nice added benefit.” You laughed.

“Oh, okay. I see how you wanna play this.” His eyes turned to something darker, losing the bright light they held and morphing into a deeper expression of humor and resolve.

You wasted no time in turning around and taking off, squealing as he rode fast on your heels. Giggles escaped you as his fingertips brushed against your clothing now and again. He eventually gained enough speed to pull you right next to him, forcing you to slow down and face him.

The vestiges of your laughter died down while you looked at him. He wasn’t mad at all. His chest heaved up and down, his teeth spread into a huge grin. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

The ensuing roller skating dance battle was epic.

…

“Keep up, Coffee girl. I saw the way you moved on those skates!” He called over his shoulder as he lapped you, the tall tower near the Lincoln Memorial loomed in the distance as you tried to catch up to him near the reflecting pool.

You huffed, your lungs squeezing with flame, and you struggled to take in air, your mouth crumbly and dry. You’d sweated through your exercise shirt and were about three seconds from passing out.

You should have expected this. Sam was in the military after all and it made sense that the regimen never really goes away that easily, but you hadn’t expected to get ran into the next century. Sure, you could move your way around roller skates, but the wheels did a lot more for you than you actually did for the skates. The running shoes you wore right now weren’t going to assist in keeping your pace. This was all manual labor.

And you hadn’t tried to run in years. Middle school P.E. was likely the last time you ever tried to pace yourself through a measly mile.

You saw him make his way around the halfway point and came to a stop, placing your hands tightly on your knees and taking in as much air as you possibly could in the moment. You closed your eyes, feeling the sweat creating small rivets down your neck and back, clinging to your hair and your clothes. You felt dirty, in deep need of a hot shower and three healthy gallons of water.

“On your left.” Sam huffed past you, but you kept your eyes closed and took in more air until you could feel like you would be able to form a response.

When you opened them, Sam was watching you with that mixture of mirth and worry. “You alright there?”

“Yeah,” You could barely speak the words, the syllables filled with air instead of the ringing of your vocal chords. “I’m okay. Just need a minute.” You closed your eyes again and took deep breaths until you could get your breathing under control.

You heard Sam tread over to you and crouch down in front of you. “Hey.” Your eyes peeled open slowly, and he was right there with a soft smile on his face. “Let’s take it slow.”

You nodded and stood up straight, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through your side. Sam took his place beside you and started on what was undoubtedly a slow jog for him, but was a manageable pace for you. You ignored the pain, fighting to stay moving.

Sam didn’t treat you with pity or that you would crumble. He stayed right next to you, bringing up topics that you could bicker over or discuss to a deep enough degree to keep your mind off your jog. He was kind and supportive. He took breaks with you when you needed to stop and would slow your pace if you were beginning to struggle again.

He showed you time and time again that he was everything Bucky was not. He was giving you so many reasons why he was better. Why you should choose him.

And everytime, you thought you didn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve someone caught up in a relationship with someone else. The longer you dwelled on these thoughts, the sadder you became. A hole opened up, eating through your thoughts of him.

Because you wanted to be that supporting shoulder that he was for you, but you weren’t sure that would ever happen. By the time you got out, it might be too late for Sam. Besides, you had to prove that you weren’t boring, that you could be exciting too. That you could keep a man interested.

Sam picked up on your change in mood and slowed your pace even more. “What’s going on? Thinking about him, again?”

“No.” You shook your head and gave a sad smile. “Something else that’s more important.”

He nodded and smiled. “Well get your head out of the clouds, Coffee Girl. We got three more laps to do.”

You huffed in frustration and gave a sad attempt at a laugh. “People must really call you Falcon for good reason. You just fly around those corners don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

...

Another day, another dance class. Sam spins you around as usual and dips you down, supporting you as you grab onto his arms. He whips you up and around with a flourish before pulling you back in, the both of you back to swaying to the beat. You let off a giggle as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You’ve all been learning choreography for the main dance that will take place pretty soon after the first dances. It’s been fun so far and everyone is picking everything up fast. It’s nice to feel like you’re part of something important.

It will all suck when he finally gets a replacement and he’ll get to dance with some other, more impressive girl. You just try to enjoy it all while you’re still here with him and he’s still willing to entertain your mess of a social life.

You and Natasha spin around each other, changing partners. Clint keeps you at a respectable distance while making sure you get your timing and steps right. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He grins as he spins you.

“Not at all.” You huff, twirling back to him as you glide around the dance floor. “I trust you and Natasha are having a good time?”

“As always.” He smirks and you dance in a good silence before it’s time to change partners again. “Have fun.” He wishes you with a subcurrent of intentional enthusiasm. You just laugh as he passes you back, Natasha’s red hair becoming a blur. You catch her eyes mid-turn and she winks at you. You grin back.

Sam catches you easily and pulls you back in, making sure you're comfortable before moving. You didn’t notice how close you normally stand while dancing, but the apparent gap between you and Clint made it that more clear. You’re nearly touching his chest and your toes are just a breath apart.

But it wasn’t unusual to you before. It’s comfortable, easy. You don’t bother to change it now, because you like it this way.

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

The instructor moves closer to you. “Great form. You make excellent partners.” She claps in excitement and you both grin abashedly at the direct attention. “I’ll bet you’ll be the next ones to get married.”

Your blood runs cold and your eyes widen involuntarily. The statement carries more weight than she probably intended, but the fact that you’re technically still bound to Bucky brings the world back into focus. Until you can get the current boyfriend situation figured out, there couldn’t be a you and Sam. Not permanently.

No matter what your heart wanted.

No matter how much that statement, as much as it took you off guard, excited you.

Sam sobered as much as you did and stopped moving entirely. He looked to you to gauge your reaction and when he saw your face open in shock, his own frowned, his light dying slightly. Then he steeled himself. “Depends on who catches the bouquet.”

She laughed and gestured for you to continue. You took a deep breath and looked up to him. You both didn’t say anything to each other, but you shared a look of deep understanding of how serious a statement like that was.

…

You step out at a beautiful building with glass doors and racks on racks of differing pants and shirts, ties and cuffs. It’s even more impressive inside. Sam waits for you in a chair outside of the dressing room.

“Hey.” You breathe watching him get to his feet and walk over to you.

“Thanks for coming.” He nods and glances over your outfit. It’s a casual glance, but it sparks a hum of electricity down your spine.

“Yeah, well, the bridesmaid’s were having a fitting and I’m not technically invited so it’s probably a good thing I’m here.” You shrugged, flipping your hair over your shoulder and he laughed richly, rolling his eyes at your show.

Sam shows you to your seat just inside the dressing room, leading you to a place with a good deal of mirrors and a pedestal for the model to stand on. You take a seat on the plush chair and scroll through some ambient notifications, catching up on social media, and sending a few text messages.

Sam asked you a few days ago if you’d come be “quality control” over his choice for a suit. The only stipulation that Steve put on his groomsmen is that the suit needs to be white. It seemed oddly out of character for a man that appeared traditional and old fashioned, but you welcomed the change. You’d heard the bridesmaid dresses were going to be red instead of the pale pink that was usually encouraged. But then again, Peggy did rock a red lip better than anyone else you knew; you had no doubt that her lip color of choice influenced her decision.

Why Sam really needed your help, eluded you. He was a perfectly capable man that was more than equipped to make his own choices and could definitely shop for himself, but you weren’t complaining. He was getting you out of a ridiculous dinner date with Bucky and whatever other work friend he was so hellbent on impressing. Not being there gave you all the energy you needed to focus.

When Sam steps out, your breath catches in your throat. He waves his arms out, letting you see the white suit in action as he spins around. He adjusts his red tie in the mirror before looking back at you. “What do you think?”

You can’t form words. Your brain is having a hard time catching up to what’s going through your mind. How handsome he looks, how the suit is fitted perfectly, how he looks outstanding and beautiful. It’s like you’re back at the boardwalk again.

The white stands out starkly against his chocolate skin and makes it even more heavenly. It’s like white was his color. The only one he should wear for the rest of his life.

“It looks fantastic on you…” Your mouth still hangs open as you speak and it takes effort to control your eyes, keeping them at a normal wideness. You know your tone is dreamy and slightly slurred, but you can’t help it. “You-You look amazing.”

Sam just stares.

“You like?” The tailor flutters around him, adjusting his suit jacket and his pants. It wouldn’t matter if the suit was ill-fitted. He’d still look fantastic and your breath would still have suddenly disappeared from your body.

You nodded absentmindedly, drifting closer to get a good inspection of him. Your fingers reached for his tie, fiddling with it in your grasp and feeling the soft, silken texture. He froze completely now, just watching you adjust his slightly crooked tie. You straightened it.

“Well, good thing quality control was here to fix it for you.” You breathed out, softly chuckling at the end. It helped cover up some of your nerves. Your fingers shook as you kept your hands closed.

His smile was delayed by a good few seconds, but it was followed by a timid laugh, shallow and not a deep as you were used to. He must have felt the same jittery anxiety that you were.

You knew the reasons that you felt this way, but his were even more muddy and less clear.

“You know how these things work, Coffee Girl?” His voice was low, but took on a light and joking tone as he gestured to the tie.

You shook your head with a smirk. “Yes, bell bottoms, I know how to tie a tie properly.”

His following laugh was covered in nerves. He then lowered his eyes so that they were almost leveled with yours, all dark and warming. A fire ignited someone near your core at his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about my tie so much.”

You cleared your throat and turned him around, letting him get a good observation of himself in the mirror. You let your hands linger on his shoulders for a second longer than necessary, feeling the strength of his arms underneath his suit.

The tailor hums in approval. “Yes. Very good. Doesn’t he look good to you?”

The question was a bit more direct than you were prepared for and you sputtered for a second, Sam’s eyes catching yours in the mirror and sending another wave of fresh nervousness pulsing through your system. “Uh, yeah. I guess.” You want to slam your head into the nearest wall. What was that response?

You scratch the back of your head and step out of the way of his continuing adjustments. “No need for bashfulness. I can see the way you look at him.” He flashes a dazzling smile your way as you pointedly duck Sam’s inquiring eyes.

There’s not a response in the world that would be able to fix the conversation or steer it onto a path that would allow you to be honest while ignoring the feelings inside of your chest. You’re really in it now.

You just settle for an, “oh”, as you turn and resume your place on the chair, far out of the reach of touching Sam and away from the tailor’s focused stare.

It’s not the answer that the tailor was expecting and he must have picked up on the growing tension and awkwardness in the room. He weaves around the lapse in conversation like it’s nothing, quickly asking another slightly personal question that’s only that much harder to answer with certainty.

“You two are going to the wedding together, right?” Sam catches your eyes in the mirror and the pressure of a response once again falls on you. You have no idea how to answer this question correctly. It doesn’t seem like Sam has anyone else in mind, but your spot hasn’t been solidified for sure.

Plus, Sam’s looking like he wants you to say yes. Like he knows that there’s no one else, but he wants you to agree, to confirm that you’d be willing to go with him.

You try somewhere in the middle, hoping to not to give anything away.

“We’re dance partners right now, at least until his date can step in.” Sam’s face falls half an inch and he looks away. The tailor doesn’t notice, nor does he catch how instantly you deflate.

He just hums and pauses, watching Sam for a reaction.

Sam shrugs, turning his focus all on the business of tailoring his suit. “More or less.” He concedes.

“The woman that comes to see the tuxedo is always the one that goes to the wedding.” The tailor winks and returns to adding pins where the suit needs material eliminated. Your face still feels heavy and you feel guilty, like you gave a wrong answer on a test.

You stand then, determined to find something else to do to take your mind off of overanalyzing the situation at hand. “I’ll be over here.” You point at the racks near the back of the store full of dress shirts.

You meet Sam’s eyes in the mirror and see all traces of hurt or disappointment are gone. He just smirks at you and nods. You return it the best you can, going over to see what shirts would look good on Bucky, but your heart isn’t in it. It probably wasn’t in it for some time now.

But if you could just prove to Buckty that you could be interesting, then maybe you’d finally be interesting enough for someone else. Maybe you would be good enough for Sam.

You shook your head sadly to yourself.

You could live millions of lifetimes and still never deserve him. He needed someone that wasn’t caught up with someone else or preoccupied with improving herself. He needed someone that knew who she was. You weren’t there yet.

…

“Thank you.” He brushes against your shoulder as he says it. It could be written off as accidental, you do have to be close together on the sidewalk to avoid getting pushed over, but it’s a bit too firm for that to really be the case. His tone is low and courteous. “I’m sorry the tailor was so curious. He likes to keep the conversation going so that it doesn’t become awkward. He has a habit of asking personal questions.”

You smile to yourself and try to ignore how easy it would be to reach out and take his hand. These thoughts are fickle and dangerous. It’s becoming harder and harder not to do the thing you shouldn’t be doing. “It’s not a big deal, Sam, really.”

He cocks his head to the side at your use of Sam. He doesn’t comment on it though and you walk side by side through the streets. At times, he gets a little ahead of you to warn off some of the people that are beginning to get too close for his liking. It’s like he’s creating a path for you.

Then his walk changes; it carries an agitation that it didn’t before. Something’s weighing on his mind. “What’s wrong?” You ask nonchalantly, but know that he’ll recognize you picked up on his subtle changes in body language.

He looks down as you come to a pause at a red light. He searches around the street before he looks at you, taking a deep breath. Your anxiety raises at his hesitation. “I have a preposition for you, Coffee Girl.”

He looks straight at you now and that responding jolt spreads through you again, like it always does now. You try to ignore it as you look right back at him. “Shoot.” You step near him and narrow your eyes, like he’s a criminal spilling his master plan.

He laughs and you breathe a bit better. It’s not too bad if he’s willing to crack a smile at your approach. “What if...I never got a date to replace you? What if you went with me?”

His eyes look so pure and pleading now, it’s hard to look away. But you take a few steps back because you shouldn’t be so excited at the notion of going with him at all. This electricity is wrong, but it’s still happening, regardless of what’s going on in your life right now.

Sam sees the war happening all on your face and tries to backpedal. “Sorry if that was abrupt. If you’re uncomfortable, I can find someone else...”

“No, I want to go.” You fire back the response fast and his shoulders stop climbing, like a weight has been lifted off of them. “I just think I should talk to Bucky first.” And you should, he doesn’t know that he didn’t get another partner and Bucky is your significant other. If you’re going to a wedding with another man, it would be right to let him know about it.

“Okay, so,” He leans in a bit further than necessary, but you let him. You like being in his space. You like being close to him. “If that conversation goes well, you’ll come with me?” His eyes twinkle with hope and you blush at how open it all is. He’s letting you see that, whether he wanted you to or not.

You pretend to think about it, raising your hand dramatically to your chin and stroking it with finesse and refinement. You tilt your nose to sky to emphasize the deepness and complexity of thought that should be going through your mind right now. The pro and cons, the good parts and bad parts of the conversation that you’re going to have to have with Bucky, but it’s all absent. You already know your answer. You knew when he asked.

“Yes, bell bottoms, I’ll go with you.”

…

A day later, you’re knocking on Sam’s door, standing outside pacing to yourself after getting a cryptic text message about getting some extra practice before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. You don’t really know what’s going through his head, your moves are fine and you’ve both got the steps down to a science, extra practice shouldn’t really be a problem.

But you knew what jitters felt like and you could understand wanting to do it one more time to calm your nerves. Your heart rate flew and a tingling sensation lingered in your fingers and your stomach.

Sam swings the door open, a pleasant smile on his face and a glimmer wafting behind his chocolate eyes.“Come on in.”

His living room is illuminated by soft candle light and the golden glow from a floor lamp. Another Marvin Gaye song echoes gently around the space, its place of origin a boombox on his countertop. You wonder if this is a passtime or if this was something more special. You hope it’s more special.

“Woah, you didn’t tell me you were an interior decorator, bell bottoms.” You’re so in awe of your surroundings, you missed that he’s standing right next to you.

“Are you ever going to let the teasing over the Trouble Man album go?” You smirk at him as you turn, eyes squinted and goading.

“Where do you think the bell bottoms nick-name came from?” You bump his shoulder with yours, but he doesn’t move away or create space when you do; he makes sure to stay just close enough to keep your arms in contact.

“Uh huh.” He hums deep from the core. It sends a buzz through you and you fight down a blush. Then he moves, spreading his arms and taking a few steps back. “Shall we or is this too old-fashioned for your liking?”

You roll your eyes and place your hand firmly in his, putting your trust in him once again, knowing that he won’t let you down. He draws you in, your breath thinning out at the proximity. It’s becoming more tolerable now and doesn’t throw you off as much as it used to, losing your breathing rhythm around him. It calms you down, helps you focus.

He’s eyes are dark and alluring as he watches you, adjusting his positioning until he’s satisfied that you’re comfortable. “Are we going to be letting Mr. Gaye sing us through this one?” You inquire in faux innocence and watch as his face twists into a humorous disdain.

“You, Ms. (last name), need exposure to real music.” He takes a step which you take with him, already knowing where he’s going from here as you begin the spins at a slightly faster pace than you’re used to in order to keep up with the beat.

“Real music, huh?” He spins you outward before drawing you back close in again, another jolt shooting through your blood.

“Yes.” He says it with a seriousness that silences you, but then he’s all smiles and smirks again and you wonder what you were expecting from a man with the nickname of Falcon. “Now just listen.”

“I’ll try.” You sway together, waiting for your cue before the next performance of turns and spins occur. You like this. You like his warm hands and eyes and glowing personality. How you can relax around him and not feel like you have to watch everything you say. How you fit together, like two halves of a charm that only fit around each other.

You close your eyes and listen, catching a few lines before you’re twirling away from him in a mix of gold and brown.

Yeah, darling you're not wasting my time What I see baby is so hard to find

…

A lightheadedness from all the dancing put a pause on your swaying session and giggle marathon. There were numerous times that you had to completely redo moves from laughing so hard. You almost fell over each other at times.

A funny spasm moved through your chest as you leaned your neck against the back of his sofa, trying to cool off while Sam brought water over. He placed the glass in your hand, a stark contrast from the warmth that he always pulsed into your skin.

You thanked him before drinking a bit, nodding along to another soft Marvin Gaye song in the background. You felt him watching you as he sat next to you, downing half of his glass. “Never met someone who likes Marvin Gaye so much for a person who claims they don’t like old music.” He smirked knowing over at you.

You shooed him with your hand. “I never said I didn’t like old music; I just mention and frequently tease you about your addiction to the music from the 70s. That’s got nothing to do with the quality of the music.”

Sam grins widely as he goes to get another sip of water before setting the glass down and smiling. You cup your drink in your hand, letting the coolness of the glass keep your body temperature lowered.

He leans back, sighing with happiness and you can’t help the small smile of happiness that spreads across your cheeks at his contentment. He’s infectious. “You know, I haven’t had this much fun in a while, thank you for coming.”

You let your head roll back as you look over to him. “Me neither. Thanks for being such a gracious host.”

His grins at your goofy head angle and weirdly moving eyebrows. Then he looks down and sobers up, his face losing some of the glow it already had. You sit up. Something’s coming, you can feel it.

You set your glass down and lean forward. “Did you ask him yet?” He doesn’t look at you, even when you stare at him for a minute before responding. You wish he would. You just need him to look so you can know what he’s feeling.

You hate putting him here. You hate that Bucky’s such a problem between you two.

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair, angling your body away from him. You don’t want him to feel like you’re pressuring him to accept the response you’re going to give him. “No. He’s out of town right now. He has been for a day or two.”

Sam narrows his eyes and fixes you with a hard stare, his tone ice compared to his smooth and gentle character. “He’s gone a lot for someone who loves to watch your every move.”

“Oh, he’s cheating. But then again it was never really official to begin with.” Sam’s eyes bug out of his head, but you know better than to take that at face value. He already knew. He’s just trying to act shocked for your sake.

“He what?” His voice sounds dumbstruck, but it’s still not enough to fool you.

“You don’t have to pretend to be surprised. I know you know.” You reached down to take another sip of your drink and let the liquid cool you down, slow down your brain so you could give clear answers that weren’t riddled with anger.

Sam sits for a moment watching you. He sighs, looks away, and then turns towards you. His jaw works and no words come out so you fill the silence.

“I’m just waiting. I think this will go away at some point. I’m just trying to be more interesting and exciting. I think that’s why I lost him the last time.” You fiddle with your pants to keep from facing Sam’s pointed stare.

“So dancing with me is just to be more interesting?” He sounds hurt and starts to turn away, but you catch him.

“No.” You make sure that’s firm and look directly at him as you say the word. He freezes in place and has to look away. “I’m dancing with you because that was genuinely something I was interested in doing. That had nothing with trying to make him jealous or trying to get him back, that was completely my own choosing.”

He had to understand, this whole thing had nothing to do with Bucky. It had everything to do with your choice and what you wanted to do. It wasn’t something you felt like you had to do to win Bucky back. You wanted this.

Sam doesn’t seem completely convinced. You scoot closer and place a delicate hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to get him to look at you. His eyes cut, but you’re determined to make him understand. To make him believe you. “Do you think I would still be here if I didn’t choose this. If this was my strategy, obviously it’s doing nothing to get him back and it would be in my best interest to leave, right? Why am I still going to classes and hanging with you if I didn’t want to be here?”

He nods and you breathe out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. You start to let your hand fall from his shoulder, but he catches it, pulling it closer to his chest and drawing your eyes to his sad and pleading gaze. “You deserve better.” He utters it softly and an emotional wall breaks at his words.

You feel tears start to form near your eyes. It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone tell you that you’re worth more than what you’re in. You have to look away, too caught in his eyes and the way that walls are starting to come down.

You take a breath and when you’re sure that there are no traces of sadness or pain, you gently draw your hand and it hurts. You don’t want to pull back, but you have to do the right thing. You have to do what’s right, even when it’s the most painful thing you could do.

“I think I should go,” You stand and Sam jumps up inhumanly fast before you, slightly blocking a straight shot to the door. You don’t feel trapped, more like he doesn’t want you to leave. “I don’t want you to feel any worse about the situation.”

“Wait.” He says in a soft whisper. He takes your hand again, slowly, curling your fingers together delicately. “Just one more dance.”

Sam doesn’t let your hand go as he clicks to another song, a sweet and simple guitar and vocal combination filling the room. He rests his hand on your hip, his warmth bleeding through the fabric of your shirt, tucks you close to him, and sets you to a sway.

You don’t perform any of the moves you’ve learned in class, no waltzes or spins, just you and him and a beat.

Eventually, from enough courage and fatigue catching up with you, you lean your head against his chest, wrapping your free arm around his torso and listening to his fast but steady heartbeat. You feel his head dip down to lean where your head lays, a hand splaying on your back to curl you into him. The tears almost well up again, but you just close your eyes and feel him, concentrating on his closeness and the caring way he responds to you.

Just like a song in my heart

A hand on your cheek pulls you back and your gaze flashes up to his, a deep fire simmering in your chest reflected in his eyes. You can feel the kiss coming this time and you know you’re not strong enough to resist it. You close your eyes and tense, waiting for his lips to meet yours.

But they never do.

Instead, a soft kiss presses against your temple and lingers.

When you open your eyes, your heart almost breaks from his open eyes and the adoration and sorrow in them. You hope he can see how sorry you are. Maybe in another place in a different time. It’s the only thing you can trust to do, silent communication. Anything else, and you’ll completely crumble.

Sam presses an invitation into your hand. Come, his eyes say and you smile and tuck it into your pocket for safekeeping.

The song ends bittersweetly and Sam walks you to the door, still holding your hand tightly in his. You stand on your tippy toes, the kiss still warm and pulsing from your forehead. He begins to lean down, knowing what’s coming and eager to make it easier for you. Just when you’re about to give him another kiss on the cheek, you get a text.

Bucky: It’s done. I broke up with her. You’re the one for me

Just like oil on my hands.

#wintershade #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #blue shade #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #ms:blue shade #sam:blue shade #this is probably my favorite part #besides the next one #we love some good fluff and pure hearted interactions

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illumynare · 4 years

Text

How the Enneagram explains all of Ford and Stan’s problems

….well, most of them, anyway.

So in my ongoing quest to learn all personality typing systems ever, I’ve recently started reading about the Enneagram, and it struck me that Ford and Stan both fit extremely neatly into the system, and it provides a great framework for analyzing why these two idiots can love each other so much and yet continually hurt/trigger/drive each other crazy.

(descriptions taken from the Enneagram Institute website, not linked because apparently that means this post won’t show up in the tags??)

Stan: Type 2, “The Helper”

The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive

Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. They are friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing, but can also be sentimental, flattering, and people-pleasing. They are well-meaning and driven to be close to others, but can slip into doing things for others in order to be needed. They typically have problems with possessiveness and with acknowledging their own needs. At their Best: unselfish and altruistic, they have unconditional love for others.

Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved Basic Desire: To feel loved

This is Stan in a nutshell: somebody who loves deeply and unconditionally, sacrifices himself without a second thought, but also easily becomes possessive, and whose “helper” actions are often in some way an attempt to earn people’s love. He rescues Waddles from the pterodactyl so that Mabel will stop being mad at him, and he rescues Ford from the portal hoping that will restore the relationship they had as children. It’s not that Stan doesn’t genuinely care about Mabel or Ford’s suffering, it’s just that, on some level, he’s always trying to earn the love of the people he cares about.

Ford: Type 4, “The Individualist”

The Sensitive, Introspective Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental

Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity. At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity)

Feeling vulnerable and defective, yet disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living: if you looked up “Stanford Filbrick Pines” in the dictionary, that’s the first thing you’d see. People have argued a lot about whether Ford is arrogant and how much, but I don’t think that’s actually the most helpful way to analyze his character. Ford has, at different times, considered himself a genius, a fool, a hero, a puppet; but what never changes is that he’s obsessed with the question of his own identity, and driven by the fear he’s either a freak or a non-entity. Even at the end of Journal 3, when he finally starts to chillax, he doesn’t abandon the question of his identity and say, “Who cares if I’m a hero or not.” Instead he chooses a new identity: “I’m a hero’s brother, and I’m okay with that.”

So how does this explain their problems?

Because, as much as these two dumb idiots love each other, they have primal fears that are often at cross-purposes, and that make them hypersensitive to each other’s worst tendencies. Stan fears being unloved and alone, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including literally immolate his identity—to keep his loved ones around him, or bring them back. Ford fears having no separate identity or personal significance, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including cut his twin out of his life, and summon unknown spirits of insane power—to grasp that identity.

This is why I think that, even if the whole science fair debacle had never happened, they would have still had some kind of major rift. They both grew up bullied by other children, emotionally abused by their father, and without any kind of support network or healthy relationship models; I don’t think either of them had the resources, at that point, to deal with their issues in a healthy way. Stan would have tried to cling to Ford no matter what, without realizing Ford experienced it as suffocation; Ford would have tried to strike out on his own no matter what, without realizing that Stan experienced it as complete rejection.

And this dynamic is also what drives their conflict after Ford comes back through the portal. I’m thinking, particularly, of their scene at the end of “Tale of Two Stans”:

Ford: Okay, Stanley, here’s the deal. You can stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids. I’ll stay down in the basement and try to contain any remaining damage. But when the summer’s over, you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?

Stan: You really aren’t gonna thank me, are you? Fine. On one condition: you stay away from the kids; I don’t want them in danger. Cause as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I have left.

A lot of people have interpreted this scene as Ford planning to kick Stan out of his life and onto the streets (and written angsty fanfics accordingly). This may indeed be how Stan saw it, but I don’t think that’s a fully accurate perception. A moment before this, they’re laughing about being old men. Ford’s voice in delivering his ultimatum doesn’t read as angry or cold so much as somebody trying to put his foot down.

I think the key to Ford’s speech is the implicit link between “you can stay here the rest of the summer” and “I’ll stay down in the basement.” Ford is primarily thinking about the issue of his stolen identity: there can only be one Stanford Pines, so while he’s willing hide himself away and let Stan keep playing the role for the rest of the summer, he wants to be Stanford Pines again. He wants his own identity, and to have a say in what goes on in his house. Which is completely reasonable!

But of course, Stan is approaching this conversation from a completely different direction. He’s spent thirty years trying to save Ford, not just because of his own guilt but also because he wants their relationship back: think of how he throws his arms wide and shouts “Brother!” when Ford steps through the portal. From Stan’s point of view, Ford is saying that everything Stan suffered and accomplished is still not enough to earn his love. Which is why Stan lashes out, having finally reached the limits of his willingness to martyr himself. Objectively, it’s kind of terrible to disown your brother for not saying “thank you,” but in context it completely makes sense for Stan to react this way. (And honestly, it’s really good that he has managed to discover ONE boundary, even if he’s being petty about it.)

….but of course, Ford still doesn’t understand what’s going on in his brother’s head, so he interprets Stan’s anger as something along the lines of “how dare you want to make decisions, you should just live in my basement for the rest your life to make me happy.” Which in turn drives his hostility and posturing in later episodes (like the DD&MD game—yes, Ford was swept away by enthusiasm, but I think he was also very much trying to mark his territory when he covered the TV room in graphs.) And that just escalates Stan’s hurt and anger, creating his determination Not To Care even when the world is ending and Ford is a prisoner, and culminating in the Zodiac Fight which is hands-down the pettiest thing either of them has ever done.

What saves them is Dipper and Mabel, who remind them it’s possible for two radically different siblings to work together—and who give them something to care about outside their own tumultuous dyad. Threatened by the loss of Dipper and Mabel, they find they can still trust and understand each other well enough to pull off a desperate, last-minute con. In one way, their final gambit seems to echo their earlier patterns: Stan burns up his identity to save his family, Ford grimly makes a choice that will cut him off from his brother. But there’s an important difference: Stan doesn’t expect to get anything back from this, not admiration from the kids or love from his brother, because he doesn’t expect to be himself after. He burns the dream of the Stan-o-War along with all the rest of his memories. Ford, on the other hand, gives up all claim to being the hero, The Man Who Killed Bill Cipher; more than that, he trusts Stan to carry out that role for him.

And that’s how, after everything, they’re able to reconcile and be at peace with each other.

#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #enneagram #reposting to see if i can get this in the tags

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