#How dare you think it is your place to judge what only God can judge

[thegreenleavesofspring]

I'm turning off notifications too. I stand by what I said but I'm too tired to keep dealing with the abysmal morons who are willfully misinterpreting it in the worst possible ways so they can feel better about themselves. Says a lot about the state of modern Christians when they get their panties in a wad over someone saying "pray for their souls".

#We stand constantly ready to heap up the pyres around the stakes don't we? #So so tired of it all #How dare you think it is your place to judge what only God can judge #Have we learned nothing from our blood-spattered history? #So many people standing ready to condemn to hellfire #Having hissy fits at anyone who tries to reach out a saving hand #How many of you have even bothered to talk to a JW or a Mormon or a Unitarian anyway? #How many of you find out what they actually believe? #Or do you listen to their enemies and take those words at face value? #No I don't agree with their interpretations #Any of them #But for everyone who thinks that anyone who has an imperfect understanding of Jesus cannot be saved: #Boy do I have some bad news for you

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

#neon-grey-writing #potion vendor faq #my writing #very very very long post lol #click the read more you know you wanna it's worth it trust me #i wrote the original draft of this at like. 3 am back in early 2023 #that's right it's catherine that-house the squares comic gal back at it again with yet another meta exploration of a storytelling format

[hyperfixat]

okay first of all hiiii genshin community this is my first ever fic for the fandom and i’ve only been playing for about a month and a half TT although i am already at AR 50, so i’m decently confident in writing this.

this is taking place in a self aware genshin alternate universe where the reader has been accused of being an imposter; aka imposter!au. contains fontaine characters >:3

btw. while i am in fontaine’s archon quest, i know little about wrio… and the fortress of meropide, so i took some liberties. and i’m not a lawyer or anything so. expect errors.

600+ Words.

You don’t think this is how prisoners should be treated, what with the heavy white iron shackles, tightly welded around your ankles, wrists, neck, and midriff. It’s excessive, really. Nameless guards and Wriothesley himself escort you to the opera house where your trial shall be held.

As you’re dragged along, you pass hordes of not just Fontaine’s citizens, but international crowds have gathered to see you fall.

You don’t have much hope.

The accusations against you are… grim, it seems. Stealing the face and body of the divine, what is that even supposed to mean? This is your body, how you’ve always been. You can’t even imagine what sort of divine being would sentence someone to… death(?) for simply bearing a striking resemblance to them. The court shall see.

You’d been so excited to see these characters, especially the beautiful Fontainians, but now as you catch sight of Neuvillette, nothing but bitter fear and dread fill you.

Those eyes; gray, blue, purple, undoubtedly gorgeous, are serious, befitting the Iudex. Though you never thought you would be surveyed under them.

“Order in the court.” Neuvillette calls out as the packed audience quiets down from their excited buzz. Furina holds a hand over her chest dramatically, waltzing to the edge of her balcony.

“Will the prosecution please state the reasons behind today’s trial? Lady Furina?” Neuvillette prompts the lady.

“Indeed.” She agrees grandly. “The guilty—!”

“Accused.” Neuvillette interjects.

“Accused,” Furina repeats. “Is charged with attempting to infiltrate the rightful spot of the Creator, a grave sin.”

The crowd boos.

“Don’t worry, my dear citizens and travelers from afar, we will see justice delivered to this sinner!”

“Order.” Neuvillette calls and the crowd hushes. “Will the prosecution present evidence to support their claim?”

“Look at them, Monsieur Neuvillette! The whole room can clearly see that they have crafted themself a mirror image of our true god!” The room rumbles in agreement. Your brow knits with worry, unsure of how (if) you’ll get out of this situation.

Neuvillette turn his gaze solely onto you, looking down from his seat as judge. A few moments of his scrutiny pass. “Defendant, can you refute these claims?”

You try.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I swear on my life, I haven’t intended to offend anyone, this is just how I look. No one will call me by my name—.”

“Boo!” Lady Furina calls from her seat, hushing when Neuvillette sends a sharp look her way.

“—I will admit I’m not from this world, but I don’t know how to explain any of that. I haven’t meant to do any harm.” You look to the crowd. “I’m sorry.”

The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale shifts, one of the weights pulling down, you aren’t sure if it’s in your favor, and doubt it is.

“Is that all from the defendant?” It is. No lawyer would dare represent you, not even a public defense attorney.

“We turn to the judgment of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale to give us the results of this trial.” With his words the machine rumbles and the sides of the scale quickly move up and down. It settle in the middle and a slip of paper slides out.

“Our defendant is…” the room simultaneously brings in a breath of air. Neuvillette’s voice chokes up. “Innocent.”

“No!” “Impossible!” “Fraudulent!”

“Oh, give me a break.” You moan at the reactions.

Lady Furina, narrows her eyes at you. “Let us settle this with a duel!”

The guards that led you here begin gathering your chains and you panic.

“Wait! Please!” You cry out one last desperate attempt. Neuvillette pauses, looking at you from the side of his eye. The hand holding the oratrice’s results stills.

“Do the words Genshin Impact mean anything to you?”

#verified hyperfixat post #sagau #genshin impact #genshin x reader #fontaine x reader #fontaine characters #neuvilette x reader #furina x reader #genshin self aware #self aware genshin au #imposter au #genshin imposter au #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au

[2knightt]

if you havent already, request for the outsiders boys with a super sweet sunshine s/o?

↳i love you, so let me get to you!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang dates a happy go-lucky reader!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately

Johnny Cade ;

your kindness probably frightened him at first, he wasn’t used to anyone as nice as you.

but when he gets to know you are—he can’t get enough.

your happiness probably rubs off on him.

johnny’s smiling more, opening doors for people, and has a little spring in his step.

the gang definitely knows about you and teases johnny about it.

“you gotta stop hangin’ ‘round y/n. you’re starting to get their smile.”

“yeah, johnnycakes. i swear—i ain’t never seen you this happy.”

“get used to it, i dunno.”

you refuse to see the bad in people, and honestly johnny kinda likes that mindset.

but he doesn’t at the same time.

he knows people in the world suck, he knows how cruel it can be—but with you by his side, you make it bearable.

you make him feel actual hope that he can get out of this place.

make him feel like he has a future.

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“..everything, y/n.”

Dallas Winston ;

opposites attract dare i say?

i can see you calming dallas down, just a bit though.

not too much. just a lot.

he stops beating up people for no reason, yelling so much, and even helps a few old ladies cross the street.

only when people aren’t look though. this is still dallas.

“jus’ get outta ‘ere, punk!”

“aw, dallas! you let ‘em go! ‘m so proud.”

“whatever.”

he mumbles, snaking an arm around your waist with his other hand stuffed in his pocket.

the gang was so fucking shocked when they found out you two were dating.

“…for real?”

“you ain’t pulling our legs, are ya?”

“no? what the hell would make you guys think that?”

“they’re sweet while you’re—you.”

“fuck’s that ‘posed mean?”

“nothing.”

i feel like a lot of people would judge you for being so happy, especially with the situation with soc’s and greasers.

but dally shuts them up real fast.

“they gotta be on drugs. no way someone can be that happ—“

“who? who’s on drugs? c’mon, you can tell me.”

“uh—no one, dallas.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

punches them anyways.

but i don’t want you to scroll with a bad taste in your mouth.

just know, you’re the only relationship dally has been serious about in a long time.

a very, long time. so—he loves you to death.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

admired you somewhat.

he loves the aura that surrounds you. he thinks it’s different—way different than what he’s used too.

he’s used to people beating others, spitting on people, mocking, teasing.

but you?

you go out of your way to help those who were pushed down, bullied, spit on.

he admired that. he admired you.

he loved that about you.

tries to pick up your habits—but ends up failing.

“pony, when’d you become so…happy go-lucky, huh?”

“is it bothering you?”

“a little.”

“…fuck you too then.”

i feel like he’d look for a partner like that.

his type??? possibly???

you just,

give him hope.

hope that he can leave tusla and live the life he wanted on the country side.

Sodapop Curtis ;

same thing, different font.

you two get along so well it’s sickening.

when the two of you walk in a room together you blind everyone with how bright the both of you are.

im not joking.

“did he really, soda?”

“yeah! can you believ—“

“JESUS CHRIST!”

“what?”

“get out.”

“WHY?!”

“what?!”

“y’all are ruining my bad mood. screw off.”

“is he always like this?”

“yeah. just ignore two-bit.”

takes after you a lot.

like a lot.

started fighting less, helping out more costumers at the DX, etc.

he loves talking about you.

he just

does.

you’re all he talks about. i’d know, cause i’m literally writing this rn.

Darry Curtis ;

THIS DYNAMIC IS SO CUTE OH MY GOD.

cold, closed off darry with a cute, kind and sweet reader.

i’m crying just thinking about it.

you force him to open him to others.

literally.

“how’s your day, darry?”

“okay.”

“just okay? didn’t something happen at work today?”

“well yeah.”

“then tell, em! he’s your brother, babe.”

people always chuckle, seeing you cling to his arm—all smiles while he sits, looking like a guard dog.

but as soon as darry glares at them—they stop laughing.

everyone calls you sunshine after darry mockingly called you that. sorry i don’t make the rules :/ (yes i do.)

“hey, sunshine!”

“oh—hey, dal!”

“don’t call them that.”

“why not, superman?”

“because.”

Steve Randle ;

Guard dog 2.0

you gotta hold him back all the time help.

“steve! you know violence isn’t good—i hate it!”

“LEMME AT ‘EM, BABE! C’MON!!”

isn’t also—not used to people being so nice to him.

so you being so affectionate, looking out for him, loving him—just being so nice to him in general is so..shocking.

“you did so good today, love. ‘m so proud.”

“what?”

“oh? did you not hear me?”

“no—i did. it was just, outta nowhere. kinda spooked me a lil.”

please just love him.

please. he needs it.

he needs someone like you in his life and he’s so glad you are in his life.

he would’ve lost his mind a long time ago if you weren’t.

Two-bit Matthews ;

YALL ARE SO CUTE.

silly goofy guy with a sweet loving partner.

you let him ramble about anything and everything. he couldn’t be more happy.

“and they dance, like all the time!”

“even the dog?”

“EVEN THE DOG! he got his own moves, y/n!”

brags about dating the kindest person in Tulsa 24/7.

like, actually.

if you don’t like his drinking cause you know it’s slowly killing him, he’ll slow down on it.

“two, you know i don’t like you drinkin’ this stuff!”

“i know. but it’ll be my last one tonight, promise.”

“better be, ‘m worried for you.”

you’re like all he talks about.

he’s just so blessed to have an angel in his life!

like, what’d a guy like him do to get a person like you? save a country?

#2knightt #leo’s anons🤍 #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny x reader #dallas winston x reader #dallas x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darry x reader #steve randle x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader

[riririnnnn]

Can we talk about him?

Oh god this sweet springchild deserves so much more love than what Fandom gives him.

It's only been, I guess, a month of me joining Tumblr, so I can't say what you all think here, but as far as I've seen in other places, I got to say that he is hated/trolled for no reason at all.

Yuki would've been a green flag, scratch that, he would've been the greenest forest if he were a real person.

I understand that

THIS

is one of the first manga panels we got of him, and yeah, I agree that he feels like that one annoying teacher's pet in our classes, but considering the environment of BLLK and the fact that they all literally have their soccer career in line, I don't think so that he did anything wrong. Besides, he didn't try to put anyone down, he is only asking for a reason.

Then we have this panel:

It seems annoying again, but considering his backstory, both the above panels start to make a lot of sense.

To be honest, even without his backstory, the above panel was justifiable since Noa himself said that he judges by number and if Yuki has a better number data then obvi-fucking-ously he has the right to ask such a question.

Also, why we don't talk more about his backstory?

Do you all understand how devastating it is to lose a dream all because of a situation or a circumstance that is completely beyond your control? Imagine working hard for something only to lose it all just because of something that you did literally nothing to deserve.

Further, he had it easy as a model you know. In a country where the average male height is 5'7'', his 6'0^½'' height is surely a great advantage, yet he decided to fight for his dream. How cool is that!

Also, sometimes, I think that if Isagi were not to be the protagonist, then how bitch-y everyone would've considered him.

Like,

WHAT THE HELL, MY BOY!?

I understand that he didn't know about his medical condition but still!?

In their argument in the changing room, I do think that both of them were right in their own way: Blue Lock was literally made for strikers, and, at least according to BLLK ideal, what type of striker passes to someone else!? And seeing things from Isagi's perspective, he did the right thing!

And I also think that Chris was a big bitch for blocking Yuki's goal like that and top of that, also calling it/him pathetic.

Why is he posing like he just solved the global food crisis? Like, what the fuck, my man? That boy hasn't even completed his teenage years, HAUL YOUR OLD WRINKLY ASS OUTTA THERE!

And after that Isagi passes him a goal too and yada yada, but Yuki acknowledged it right away. He also came to apologise and accepted his mistakes.

Just look, look, LOOK!

How sweet he looks. Like a pathetic wet cat. Oh lord! I want to protect him.

And do not dare to come at me by saying, "IsAgi ofFeReD hiM a pLaN bUt wHeN hE aSSisTeD hiM yUki acCePTEd iT."

Like bro, first of all, shut up. Second of all, imagine being in the soccer field and someone passes you the ball, what are you going to do? Run the other direction or something? Brah, Blue Lock taught the boys to be egoistical not stupid.

Just stop hating him.

.

.

.

One time when I was thinking about Yukimiya's headcanons, I was like, "He might actually be blind one day, so I think he is learning sign language."

Then after a long pause I was like

...oh

#blue lock #bllk #yukimiya kenyu #雪 ranting

[pearlyinluv]

Scaramouche x FEM!reader

Best Friends to lovers smut

Idc if you're a minor or not interact I can't stop you anyway

(I have no idea how to start off any fanfiction so please don't judge and I tried my best to be detailed)

For context:you and Scara have been friends for a while cuz you're both immortal and shi and you're the only one who hasn't betrayed him yet

(I have no idea how punctuation work)

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ <3 ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Scaramouche had dragged you to his place once again, nothing unusual. You were both sitting on his bed while he was sewing some sort of doll. The sunlight that passed through the window fell so beautifully in his perfect skin. He was truly a sight to behold. You hated to admit it but you definitely had a crush on him.

You kept admiring his beauty until his voice snapped you out if your trance. "Quit the staring. It makes you look stupid." Scaramouche remarked and glared at you.

"Sorry.." you mumbled an apology almost too quiet for him to hear.

"Whatever" he rolled his eyes and went back to sewing that doll. He looked so beautiful all focused, oh how you wished that focus was on you.

You tried to keep yourself distracted with something looking around his room trying to find anything interesting. That was until your earring fell off and landed underneath his bed.

You bend down and looked underneath the bed trying to find it.

Scaramouche gave you a side eye "what are you doing?" He asked

"Just trying to find my earring" you replied calmly.

You kept searching for your earring, it seemed to have evaporated. It was then you spotted a doll underneath his bed it looked like he made it himself. You reached for it and it looked like you.

Did he make a doll of you? That would be adorable not gonna lie. You chuckled softly. Ofcourse he noticed. "What do you have there?" He seemed curious what you could've possibly found underneath his bed.

"A doll. Is that supposed to be me?"

You looked up at him and held the doll in your hand. His face flushed pink instantly. "Ofcourse not idiot."

"Well then who is it?"

"My mom"

"We both know you hate her"

"Shut it"

You laughed softly and teased him a little "oh come on, Scara! It's cute I like it."

Scaramouche just scoffs and turns his attention back to the doll he was making. He couldn't help but glance at you once in a while.

To say he was attached to you was an understatement.

His past betrayals gave him huge attachment issues. You're his only source of comfort next to nahida. He noticed the way you were hugging the doll he made of you. It made him smile a little even when he tried to hide it.

He couldn't deny his feelings for you. He hated how human it made him. Love is such a stupid concept. Why would anyone want that? Humans are so weak. He couldn't believe that he actually felt human emotions. It made him want to physically recoil and hide away in some corner. How could he stoop so low? Honestly, it's embarrassing.

You two kept sitting there not saying anything. The silence was deafening, and he hated it. He saw that smile on your lips. How badly he wanted to press his lips against yours.

He finally decided to speak

"How can you even tolerate me?"

What kind of question was that? You looked up at him and shrugged

"I don't know you're not as bad as you think"

You smiled at him.

"Can I tell you something?" He asked not daring to look you in the eyes. 'idiot. What are you doing?!' he thought to himself

"Sure! You can tell me anything!"

"Y/n.. I- I feel things.."

'idiot. Idiot. Idiot.' he kept repeating in his head.

You laughed softly. It calmed him a little seeing you too busy laughing to notice his blush

"What do you mean with you 'feel things'?"

"Nothing just forget it"

He waved his hand dismissively

"No no tell me go on" you pressured him to just tell you. He always did this, speaking in riddles and then just dismissiving it. God how you hated that

He took a breath through his nose which confused you since he told you he didn't need to breathe"For you.." he mumbled quietly

"What?" You asked making sure you just heard what he said correctly

"For you now kill yourself or something" he crossed his arms and looked away

So you did hear him correctly. This was certainly a shock to you. Without thinking you took his hand and leaned in to kiss him. His eyes widened he didn't expect this at all. You pressed your lips against his and closed your eyes while putting one of your hands at the back of his head the other one on his chest

It took him a little while to process this but once he did he closed his eyes and kissed you back

He grabbed the back of your head by your hair a little too tight, which earned a gasp from you. He used that opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth exploring every bit of it. You gladly did the same. He pulled you onto his lap so you two were as close as possible. Your chest pressed up against his. Your hair slightly messy because of his tight grip. You tried pulling away for air but he didn't let you. "No.. you're not pulling away darling. I'm not letting you"

*He laughed and pressed his lips against yours again before speaking once more "I don't care if you suffocate. Wouldn't that be a nice way to die? Kissing me?"

He chuckled and while he was talking you used the opportunity to catch your breath before he pressed his lips against yours once more.

His mind was already filled with dirty thoughts about you.

He finally had you and he would never ever let you go again. That's for sure.

He grabbed both your wrists and pinned you to the bed before sitting between your thighs.

"May I?" He asked with that smug grin of his

You were a blushing mess already and just nodded you didn't even know what he was referring to.

He moved his hand to your shirt and tucked on it. In response to that you took it off. He admired your almost bare chest and leaned in and buried his face between your breasts and laughed softly.

"Enjoying yourself?" You asked while looking away embarrassed

"Very much." He said with that shit eating grin of his. He unclipped your bra and threw it somewhere into his room before he started to suck and bite your neck

You whimpered softly which only motivated him more

He left hickeys across your neck and collarbone before he moved down and kissed your nipple, which gained a quiet moan from you. He smiled and gently sucked in it making you whimper. He then trailed kisses down your chest to your stomach until his face was between your thighs and he bit your thigh

Your face was completely red and you looked at his face. He looked so perfect between your thighs. You could look at him there all day

"Do I have your consent mademoiselle?" He said with a chuckle and a mocking voice

"You do" you said in the same mocking tone

He then opened your skirt and pulled it off same with your panties

"My my so wet already and I didn't even touch you there yet"

He smirked up at you

"Shut up and just eat me out already"

"Oh?~ someones desperate. But fine since you asked so 'nicely' I might as well" he placed a soft kiss right on your clit which got a moan out of you

Then he started using his tongue on your clit. He savored every bit of your throbbing heat. Enjoying the view of you squirming and whimpering in pleasure because of him. Then you felt him insert one of his fingers.

"S-scara-.. a-ah~"

Hearing you moan his name like that turned him on so much "hmm?~" the vibration of his voice against your sensitive core made you whimper louder

"D-dont .. stop please~"

He inserted a second finger.

He was stretching, curling, pushing deeper until you were a hot mess for him, making sure to hit all of your spots. You were squirming whimpering under his touch. His tongue felt so good licking over your throbbing clit. He moved his tongue between your folds devouring your taste to the fullest.

You felt a familiar knot in your stomach curling up tightly inside you. "Scara-.. ngh~ I-im close.."

He pulled his fingers out and lifted his face up and smirked at you. That same shit eating grin you hate it. "Already? We can't have that yet can we darling?~" he chuckled as you felt your climax fading away

You protested and whined "Scara! You can't just stop!"

"Yes I can"

He pulled you close and kissed your lips roughly. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above you head and he moved his head to your neck and bit down drawing some blood. He gently licked the blood off your neck and kissed your nipple to which you whimpered again.

"Why don't you do me a favor hm?~" scaramouche said with his signature smirk. You tilted your head slightly to the side in confusion and he gestured towards the tent in his pants. You gasped softly and blushed.

"Don't tell me you're getting too shy now?~"

You moved your hand and undid his pants before pulling them down. You pulled his boxers down and we're a little surprised by the length

He was 7 inches long and the base was #FFFBF2, the tip was #EF8D88 and he had a vein on the left side of the base, the girth was 4,69 inches.

You laid down in between his thighs and softly kissed the tip and he shivered a little. You opened your mouth a little and took the tip inside gently running your tongue over it. He bit his lip trying to hold in his whimpers. You let go of the tip and ran your tongue over the base. You kept doing that for a while until you put the tip back in your mouth

"Mhh~ keep going like that y/n..."

He put his hand on your hair and pushed it deeper into your mouth. He pulled you back up by your hair guiding your head gently. You slowly went back down and ran your tongue across it while gently sucking.

He pulled your head back up by your hair. "Look at me.. keep your pretty eyes open and look. at. me." He said softly but sternly at the same time.

You looked up at him holding eye contact. "Good girl~" he moved some hair out of your face. He caressed your cheek gently before pushing you back down balls deep into your throat. A few tears ran down your cheeks because of your gag reflex. "Don't cry" he laughed softly and you kept eye contact with him

He put his other hand on the side of your head and grabbed your hair and pulled you up again before pushing you down again

He did this slowly for a half a minute until he got a little rougher

He pushed you down roughly again and pulled you up just as rough your scalp hurt a little already

Not even 20 seconds later he was full on face fucking you using your mouth for his own pleasure

Your mouth was drooling a little and you felt his grip tighten.

"Only- ngh~ a little more... It's over soon.."

He groaned a little and even let out a whimper. A few moments later he slammed his dick into your throat until your nose was touching his pelvis. You felt his hot seed slide down your throat and he let out a loud whimper. You pulled away from his hardened length and gently pushed him onto the bed trailing kisses up his stomach before kissing his lips roughly.

"A-ah!~ y/n!~" he moaned when you suddenly sat on his lap pushing his dick inside your tight pussy.

You whimpered and started gently moving your hips as you grabbed his wrist and pinned his hands above his head

"Y/n- what are you-.. nghh!~ doing??" He said between deep breaths and moans. "What does it- ah!~ look like..?" You replied back with a smirk. You kept grinding on his dick and his breathing got heavier and heavier. He struggled a little to get out of your grip and when he did he gripped your hips tightly and guided your movements

You were both moaning and blushing messes. He then suddenly flipped you around and started pounding into you.

He leaned down and kissed one of your nipples while he kept fucking you relentlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer and your arms around his neck.

The sound of skin slapping could be heard all around the room. "How are you feeling, doll?" Scara asked you breathlessly while hitting your g-spot. "A-ah!~ mphf!~ g-great!~" you replied as your nails gripped his back.

You kept moaning out his name as he rearranged your organs and he grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly, before pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Soon you reached your climax and came undone all around his cock. He kept thrusting into you for a few more seconds before filling your womb with his hot seed.

He pulled out before collapsing in the bed beside you and pulling you close. "Are you alright? Not that I care anyway"

You just nodded in response panting heavily "good, now go rest you look like a mess"

This was my first ever fanfic/smut fanfic

#genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche #scara x reader #scara smut #scaramouche smut #genshin scara

[blueberrypancakesworld]

I'm your God - Samuel Lafferty

warning : +18, smut(p in v), religion as a pretext for abuse, domestic violence, abuse (rape/non-con), implied torture, kissing, childbearing mentioned, Sam is Sam with his religion, capture, exorcism as a pretext

Summary : They could have had it all he could have had a family and they could have had the best life. But then came the news. She, his wife given to him by God could not give him children. A fact that he could not accept because after all...he was her God.

Info : Omg it's been way too long since I wrote for Sam (as much as I love Rory's suby characters the crazy fanatics have a place in my heart). Pay attention to the themes it's dark. I love it anyway so all the more yes. So have fun reading you all :)

ps : the gif is just so ahhh but fitting to the story

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the door opened at upstairs and the footsteps sounded, she knew exactly what it meant. He was back. The devil was back. The devil in the form of her husband was back. How long had it been since she had seen the sun, the outside or her family...her real family.

His family his brothers were his demons they were sometimes more cruel than he was more terrifying in the aftermath and infinitely gruesome as they watched Samuel judge his wife led into darkness by Satan. When he fucked her on the bed down in the cellar night after night.

His brothers, if they didn't punish, tease and abuse her with words, would lay their hands on her themselves. But in the end it was only her husband, her Samuel, her God, who came inside her.

He gave his cum into her, ,,You will give birth to my son, woman, and when you do, you will be freed from the devil," he told her, as he had always told her. When he stroked his hand over her head he took on the paternal role but she would not get pregnant. He knew it himself. He himself had seen the results of the examination that she couldn't get a child because of her genetics.

But it was the delusion that had him in its grip. Sam believed that he could still get her pregnant. ,,It's your fault!" he had shouted at her in the kitchen when she returned to the house. She was terrified when he threw the glass across the kitchen.

Since they had married almost two years ago,they had given everything for a child. But nothing seemed to work now they knew the reason. To her shock, his thoughts of finally seeing her pregnant, to do everything for it, to abuse her were making him hard. To finally have her as a mother and him as a father.

But nothing seemed to work now that they knew the reason. ,,Sam-Samuel, I'm sorry...we can adopt," she said, stifling a scream as he grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the kitchen table.

He could finally have a family.

It was the first time he'd ever forced himself on her, his hand lingering on her neck as he pushed up her dress and she heard his zipper open. ,,Don't you ever dare cry! Do you know what this means to your body?" he shouted at her between the sexual noises his power only made him more driven.

But his other hand didn't leave hers, he held on to her, at least for a part.

The part of the good loving husband. ,,Ah-no stop I don't know," she replied, tears running down her cheeks as he increased the pressure on her neck, seeming to take away her ability to think. She had no idea what fanatical thing was going on inside him.

That all this pretense behind his faith was true. ,,Sin woman in your Satan-infested womb," he hissed and pressed her against him, bending her slightly so that her back bumped against his chest as he poured himself into her.

His climax was a throaty moan as his lips gave her a lingering kiss on her tear-stained cheek. She whimpered as he took his hands off her neck only to push his cum back inside her.

Making a mess and holding her jaw, his look was full of anger despite the actual act of love. He felt only disappointment.

She felt the cum running out from between her thighs and he pulled away from her, leaving her humiliated, hurt and alone. Not knowing what would happen.

What would happen when she found herself in the cellar. He had done it. He had convinced himself that she was possessed by a demon.

When she heard him coming down the stairs she had initially screamed and cried at him until he had hit her, he had brought his brothers, he had covered her mouth with a cloth. He had said, ,,Just words of the devil" but she knew he knew he was only doing it because he could.

,,Women, submit to your husbands as it befits the lord. Husbands love your wives and don't be harsh with them" Colossians 3:18-19" she heard his voice as she opened the door.

The light from the naked incandescent lamp in the cellar illuminated him. The shirt on his body, the pants and boots on him, the man she loved, the man she had loved so much.

A woman should support her husband in everything. ,,I love you, you know that, don't you?" he asked and she saw him put the Bible aside and sit down with her on the large marriage bed.

She knew better than to move and allowed him to touch her. The chain on her ankle was still noticeable but the rustling was already there.

A reminder that she was his prisoner. The wetness between her thighs not her own she only felt arousal when her body betrayed her.

When her brothers tortured her they used her for hours until Samuel returned. He saw what his brothers had done, the markings, the cum on her body and the bed.

But they never came inside her, ,,I am your husband and it is my right" he had told her the first time before he had presented her to his brothers for the first time.

Her screams fell silent through the lips of the first and Samuel, her beloved Samuel, closed the door to the cellar. ,,Yes...I know that," she replied and closed her eyes in shame as his fingers moved slowly over her cheeks.

The smack and the tears were visible as he placed a kiss on them and went down further. Visibly enjoying her breasts, her nipples were as hard as the coolness down here.

The nightgown she had long since slipped off her body, she usually had barely enough strength to put it on when the brothers were done with her.

She let out a soft gasp as he massaged her breasts and she moaned, stretching out to meet him as he pinched her sensitive spots.

,,A whore you are...let my brothers get to you and wet like a worthless bitch" he mumbled his statement a lie and yet she nodded knowing he wanted to hear it from her.

That her wetness between her thighs was his cum when he came to her after getting up was a good way to get rid of his boner.

It was no longer about exorcizing the devil, even though he told her she had become his slave. ,,As it says in the Bible," he murmured, running his fingers along her thighs, the substance shining lightly in the dim light, and he held it in front of her mouth.

,,Yes, the Bible," she replied, only she had learned what he wanted to hear before she licked his cum with her mouth.

He almost fucked her mouth with his fingers he made a mess of her spit and the remains of the sperm hanging from her lips dripped onto her chest as he took his fingers out of her mouth.

The choking sounds ended with her gasping for breath but saw his cock pressing painfully against his pair of jeans.

It was time for the ritaul as he called it. ,,The ritaul I know it will work...the devil will come out of you one day," he said, pushing her roughly into the pillows that were stained with body fluids.

As he penetrated her, her screams mingled with her moans, he didn't hide his lust, he used it as he pleased.

She had stopped struggling when he had hit her so hard that her lip had split open.

Not wanting to hear her cry, he fucked her into the pillows, almost taking her breath away with his hand on her back.

But it wasn't his actions, it was his words about her and her body that hurt the most.

,,I know ah-fuck so well I know you want it...all this fuck" she heard him say nodding only agreeing with him as she tried to ignore the pain and pleasure. He took more and less time on some days.

But whenever he was close to his climax, he forced her into a kiss, gripped her puss harshly and kissed her.

Took away her noise, her protests. ,,Be grateful that it's me who loves you...who casts out the demon," he had said after the first time he had risen from the bed, her body slumped and clawing at the sheets, she hadn't understood him.

But with every kiss she knew it was a warning. That when his ritual was over, he would no longer feel anything for her.

No love then she was really just a whore a whore a cum dump for him...and his brothers. ,,Thank you for your...love," she gasped as he broke away from her, another night of filling her with his seed and kissing her on the head.

Before he pulled away, he had given her enough love to remind her what he meant. ,,The demon is strong, I'll try something new tomorrow, I know you can take it," he said and her gaze went to his hand, seeing it rest on his belt.

She swallowed and fear showed in her gaze. She knew what he was going to do, she could already feel him beating her.

But what should she do? He had her in his hands, he was down here in the cellar in the hell, he was her god.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@707otto , @roryculkinsgf , @romanroyapoligist , @madamemaximoff06 , @bibliophile221b , @thatsthewrongwallcraig , @angelsanarchy , @ioveghost , @shady-the-simp , @kristennero-wallacewellsver , @icarus-star

#under the banner of heaven #samuel lafferty #rory culkin #samuel lafferty x reader #under the banner of heaven samuel

[moonpedri]

always.

summary: kylian takes you on a special date on a helicopter to let you see the eiffel tower for the first time

pairing: kylian mbappe x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: kylian is an absolute dream, beware of suffering from absolute delusions after this

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: this was definitely not inspired by the helicopter scene in figty shades of grey 😃 and i definitely never wanted to recreate this scene with someone😃 and this is definitely not for pure self-indulgment😃 and i definitely did not listen to "love me like you do" on repeat while writing this😃

anyways lol, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing!!🤍

────────────

You are in the middle of organizing the last shelf, when your manager approaches you with an unreadable expression. "__, this looks perfect. You're done for tonight."

You turn to her in confusion, "It's fine, I just have this one last shelf left-"

"I said you're dismissed for tonight, __. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

With a final look she leaves, but not before giving you a little wink. This is not a common occurrence; in fact you usually stay longer than you should. And judging from the underlying look in her eyes, you are far from done tonight.

This must be Kylian's doing again, you think. And the thought of him alone makes you feel giddy.

Your co-worker slash best friend joins you with a mischievous smile on her lips. "Stop looking at me like that.", you say.

"Aw, come on. Are you going to say this to your boyfriend too when he looks at you like that later.", Noémie says and cocks one brow up while pursing her lips. She looks absolutely ridiculous.

You shove her away, "How many times do I have to tell you that he's not my boyfriend."

She walks down the aile to the changing rooms with you, "Yet. He isn't your boyfriend yet. And when he is," she sighs blissfully, "I'll have a rich best friend and date one of his rich little friends so we can have those rich little brunches those snobby women in Paris have all the time."

"Noémie! You know that's not the reason why I like him. I don't care for his money, I never did."

Noémie smiles at you softly, "I know I know, I'm just kidding." She's silent for a second, before she breaks out in laughter, "Well, not really. But the moment he says something mean or treats you bad, god have mercy on his parisian ass."

This time you laugh as well, "I'll make sure to let him know."

She gasps, "Don't you dare. I can't leave a bad impression on my future brother-in-law."

You groan again, yet you can't deny that the thought of him being wedded to you doesn't make your stomach erupt in butterflies. "Noémie, you're so stupid."

She smiles warmly, as she watches you wear your leather jacket, "Have fun baby."

"Thank you.", you hug her tightly and leave the drug store with a shiver feeling. When you go outside a tall man, dressed in black, is already waiting for you, "Hey. Hugo, right?"

He nods curtly, "Good evening, Madam __. Monsieur Mbappé will be joining us there."

You smile gratefully, when Hugo opens the car door for you and you cautiously step in. The SUV is spacious, the windows are darkened. You can barely see anything outside.

You relax against the soft seat a little bit, while Hugo turns on the engine. Tonight is only your third date with Kylian. And you couldn't be any more nervous, because this time he didn't tell you what you were doing. A surprise, he said. Still, you're scared of being too underdressed or unprepared.

But this is Kylian; you shouldn't be too worried.

You met the french football player when he stumbled into your workplace one night. The little drug store that you work in was located in a small suburb in Lille. It isn't a well-known place, so you were surprised that such a huge personality like Kylian visited.

He was there for a match against Lille and was in search for something for his mother you think. You don't quite remember what it was, but what you clearly remember was his stressed face when you almost closed the door on him.

The store was about to close, and you almost started arguing with him but you felt bad seeing his distraught appearance and just let him in.

Safe to say your manager gave you in earful right there and then, but since it was France's superstar Kylian Mbappé, she let it go.

You waited at the door for him with the store's key in your hand. "Thank you again. Let me repay you with coffee or something."

"Sure.", you simply answered. Honestly you didn't even really hear what he said to you, too caught up with the fact that the Kylian Mbappé was in front of you, as well as your own tiredness.

He smiled and left.

You thought that settled it and you would never hear of the man again. So imagine your surprise when your shift ended 10 minutes later and he stood right there in front of you, leaning casually against the hood of his black car.

"Did- Did you forget something?", you ask. Nervously, you fiddled with the straps of your handbag.

"Yeah."

You purse your lips, "Oh. Well, I'm sorry the store is closed now and I can't let you-"

He laughs, "I meant your number. I owe you coffee, no?"

"Ah, no it's fine. You don't have to." To say you were completely flustered would be an understatement, and you really didn't want to know how shy you probably appeared.

"I insist."

So you met for coffee. But suddenly he invited you to one of his matches one day too, and then you even went to a luxurious steak house afterwards.

The night ended with a heated kiss in his car, leaving you sleepless for the coming days. Slowly, you started developing feelings for Kylian.

He's romantic and attentive. Despite the huge gap in your lifestyles, you never felt more comfortable with someone. You two just clicked, even though everything is still so fresh and new to you.

Daily text messages and calls gave you the illusion of knowing him for an eternity already.

The car comes to a halt in front of a huge building. Hugo opens the door for you, and once you step out, you're greeted by the chilly night air. You recognize your surroundings to be in the more wealthier part of the city - somewhere you have been only a handful of times.

After the two of you two step into the elevator, Hugo clicks on the highest button. He stands in front you, his back turned to you as well. While watching him, you genuinely wonder what Kylian could have possibly planned - especially on a rooftop.

The elevator doors open with ding! and the moment they do, you're breathless.

There stands Kylian, dressed in casual slacks, a white tee and black jacket in front of a helicopter. A fucking helicopter. His initials appear big on the side of it.

The sight may have left you breathless, but Kylian's smile, while you walk towards him actually robs you off all the oxygen in your lungs. You feel shy under the gaze of his pretty eyes. "Good evening, mon bijoux.", he says and presses a kiss to your hand.

He began using the nickname only recently via text or calls, but this is the first time he actually calls you "my jewelry" in person. You like it maybe a little too much. It makes you feel special - something never quite experienced in your life before.

"Kylian...what is this?", you say, eyeing the huge vehicle behind him.

He smiles and opens the door for you, like the true gentleman he is, "Our date tonight."

You figured already but it still seems a bit surreal to you, especially when you sit inside. Kylian joins you a few seconds later on the driver's seat.

It only dawns on you then, "Wait. Ky, you're flying this?"

He smirks and puts the headset on in response, "Yes."

"So, you have a license for flying a helicopter...", you begin and subsequently fail to contain your laughter, "but no driver's license?"

He laughs as well, a bit more sheepish though, "Life works in funny ways, doesn't it?"

You squeeze his hand, trying to reassure him in some way. You wanted to say something to him, but a light suddenly blinks up on the screen, distracting him.

Suddenly Kylian leans over to you. He reaches behind you, his face so close you can see your own reflection in his eyes.

He begins clamping down the multiple seatbelts for you. Once he's done, he fastens the belt up really strong and an audible gasp leaves your mouth, when it gets especially tight around your lower area.

"No escaping now.", he says in a low voice.

You never planned on leaving anyways, you're sure you would follow him anywhere.

Kylian fastens his own seatbelts and hands you over a headset, next to his own. "September 1-1-3-7. Michelangelo. Ready to depart."

You look at him, while adjusting your headset. "Roger that, Michelangelo. Your flight plan from Lille to Paris is cleared.", someone says through the comms and you stare at Kylian in shock, unable to hide your excitement.

"Paris? That's where we're going?

His emotions match your own, "Yeah."

The heli takes off and you can barely contain your squeal. Kylian doesn't even need to say anything when you reach the capital city after 20 minutes, the difference is as clear as black and white. The view from above at night is prettier than anything you have seen before. City lights shine bright in the darkness of the night, cars still hustle around even though it's far after midnight.

You see the Champs-Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe as you fly over river Seine. It's a tragedy really, that you haven't seen any of the many sights in person - or even been to Paris. But you wouldn't change anything in the world for seeing them for the first time like this.

The Eiffel Tower was by far its most famous monument. And nothing could have prepared you for seeing it from above, when the entire tower begins to sparkle.

"Kylian.", you gasp, "It's so pretty."

He hums in agreement next to you. You lean forward to get a better look at it.

"Do you like it?"

You turn to him, the sparkles for sure reflecting in your own eyes by now, "I love it. Thank you so much."

You can feel tears collecting in your eyes. It's crazy to think how fast your life changed in a span of maybe two weeks.

He presses a kiss to your knuckles, then to your wrist and finally intertwines your fingers with his. It's as if they were smithen and polished to fit into one another perfectly. Like a puzzle and its missing piece - finally complete.

"You're amazing, Ky. This means a lot. You mean a lot.", you feel yourself shake a bit. There's weight to your words and you feel scared.

His hand squeezes yours, he's got you. "You to me too."

And he knows in that moment that this is just the beginning of your journey together. That you will follow him anywhere and that he will too. He'll stand by your side, always, and care for you, just like you did when he stumbled helplessly into the small drug store in Lille.

────────────

© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

#kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #kylian fanfic #mbappe fanfic #football x reader #kylian imagines #mbappe imagines #football imagine #football fanfic

[yanderelovlies]

Horny time is over! Now it's time for the angst to comfort so get ready bitches!

God Jack was perfect. He listened to you when you needed some to talk to, respected boundaries you set, he never judge you and the little quirks that you had, and he made you happier then you have been in a long time.

But then....what did you bring to the table?? Yeah you talked and spent as much time as you can with him since no one else can see him, but that felt like it was never enough.

It was only a matter of time before he got bored of you or he'd just.....disappear...God you don't think you could ever handle that!

First Ian...now....

You could feel your breath catch in your throat at the thought. It was all to much, and before you knew it big hot tears began to run down your face.

"Sunshine?"

You jumped at the sound of his voice. You were so lost in your dark thoughts that you forgot he was there in the first place.

You didn't dare look at him though. What if he could read you thoughts?? What if he agreed to your dark thoughts and just disappeared??

The tears came back at full force again, but didn't stay long as Jack wiped them away before cupping your cheeks.

"Sunshine what's got you so worked up? Was it that Ian again?" His grip on your face grew a little tighter as his brow furrowed at his own words.

You shook your head quickly defusing the situation before explaining to him the thoughts, and worries haunting you.

He was confused at first. Why would you think that? Was he not showing you how much he loved you? How you are his everything?

Well in that case he would have to fix that.

"y/n....my love. I love you very much, and can't imagine being anywhere but here. I love you.....I NEED you. So let me prove that to you."

#something's wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack x reader #swwsdj x reader #x reader

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

The Case of Rachel Elizabeth Dare

Rachel Elizabeth Dare is an enigma. Leo thinks that she's made up. Hazel and Bianca throw their lot in with her being a goddess. Nico swears it's a coincidence. And so on and so forth. No one knows who - or what - Rachel Elizabeth Dare is. And so they meet to discuss it. (It's a crackfic. Don't take this summary too seriously.)

for best results, read on ao3!

trigger warnings: the COVID-19 pandemic is referenced

[TRANSCRIPT OF THE MEETING OF JULY 6TH, 2052 (as estimated), as recorded by Grover Underwood]

ANNABETH CHASE, OWL: That exhausts our list. Are there any other concerns to be made?

LEO VALDEZ, MECH: Yes, Head Councilwoman. I bring the Case of Rachel Elizabeth Dare. I believe she is not real and never as been; you must surely be playing a prank on me!

PERCY JACKSON, SEASTAR: Rachel is real! We've all seen her! Except Leo, of course.

OWL: I agree. Rachel is real; she is also immortal.

NICO DI ANGELO, SKELETON: No, it's just a coincidence. I think you're lying about seeing her in the Hadrian period, at least.

HAZEL LEVESQUE, GEMSTONE: I saw what I saw! And it's not just a coincidence! She's got to be a god.

SHADOW: Perhaps even God Himself.

(GEMSTONE, SKELETON's sister, sputters. SKELETON is notably Catholic despite his time travelling. But who are we to judge?)

BIANCA DI ANGELO, SHADOW: She's pretty enough to be a god. I agree with Hazel.

(And there's the third member of our sibling trio. Bianca is not as religious as Nico, and prefers pissing him off, anyway.)

SKELETON, increasingly frustrated: That's only because you like to kiss her.

SHADOW: Guilty as charged, I suppose.

OWL: Wait, guys, we need a spreadsheet. Leo's under 'nonbeliever'-

MECH: Nonbeliever!?

OWL: Shut up. Percy, you're-

SEASTAR: Immortal.

OWL: Great. Me too. Nico is under coincidence, and Hazel and Bianca are under goddess.

GEMSTONE: Well, Nico's wrong. How can there be a bunch of identical people named Rachel Elizabeth Dare? In places no one should be named Rachel Elizabeth Dare, no less!

MECH: I still think you guys are lying!

SKELETON: Shut up, Leo.

MECH: Hey!

GROVER UNDERWOOD, PANCRIER (and your transcriptor): Put me down under fellow unregistered time traveller.

OWL: How can she be an unregistered time traveller? Plus, if she was, she'd stay far away from us registered time travellers?

PANCRIER: Bianca was the first to see her, right? Maybe Rachel developed a crush and decided that the rest of us were safe.

SHADOW: Come on! We're not dating or even remotely involved!

GEMSTONE, dryly: Stop lying. I walked in on you making out with her in a closet!

SKELETON: Can't believe Bianca's cheating on the Rachels with other Rachels.

GEMSTONE: They're the same person! And why are you judging me for dating a god!

MECH: so you are dating. Or is this just a cover-up for the fact that Bianca can't get a date.

GEMSTONE: Shut up!

DREW TANAKA, MIRROR: I've met her. We went shopping for makeup and dresses.

MECH: So she talks to you and not me!?

MIRROR: It's because I'm better than you.

SHADOW: Drew's right.

MECH: I hate you all. Why am I here?

OWL: You couldn't live without us.

SEASTAR: Also, I'm the only person who can surpass your sarcastic genius.

MECH, notably sarcastic: Of course. How will I ever catch up?

PANCRIER: We are part of a dignified organization. We are part of a dignified organization.

GEMSTONE, SHADOW, OWL, and SEASTAR: of course.

PANCRIER: I should quit.

SEASTAR: I'd miss you, though.

PANCRIER: Never mind. I will not quit.

MIRROR: Sap.

OWL: Shut up, Drew.

MIRROR: Why do I go to these meetings, anyway?

OWL: Because Piper quit.

MIRROR: Piper never had to handle a deadly situation in her life.

OWL: But you're... you.

SHADOW: Enough about my love life. What about Annabeth and Drew's?

OWL and MIRROR, simultaneously: No.

SEASTAR: Perhaps we should not discuss this, dear cousin of mine.

[SHADOW rolls her eyes. GEMSTONE pats her on the back.]

SKELETON: I'm going to the bathroom.

[SKELETON leaves.]

OWL: He's not coming back, is he?

MIRROR: No, of course not. I would leave, too, but you need someone with a head on their shoulders.

PANCRIER: What about me?

MIRROR: You also have a head on your shoulders. But I cannot confine you to this duty alone, hon.

PANCRIER: Sure.

[PANCRIER would like to note that he is the only sane person here.]

MECH: Anyway, back on topic, Festus tells me that he has seen Rachel, but only when I have to leave him behind. Can't believe you guys have manipulated him.

PANCRIER: We haven't. Besides, I think Rachel has powers of prophecy.

OWL: The only power people have is time travel, from experience.

PANCRIER: Yeah but consider. Also, I have my codename for a reason?

OWL: Yeah, it's because you have an extraordinary loud scream.

PANCRIER: Extraordinary is close enough to magic, isn't it?

OWL: Also, prophecy could be explained by the actual time travel.

PANCRIER: What if she's a clone? And she's cloned herself a million times? And that's why she's everywhere?

SEASTAR: Or she could have a way to track us and use it for mischief.

SHADOW: Thus supporting Hazel's and my goddess theory.

MIRROR: Yeah, I buy that.

[OWL jots that down on her table.]

MIRROR: But we should also ask everyone else. Because there's like forty of us.

OWL: Thirty-nine, actually.

MIRROR: I said 'like forty', not actually forty.

OWL: Semantics.

MECH: I still think you guys are pulling a Goncharov.

SEASTAR: Goncharov? I haven't heard of that before.

MECH: A relic of the 2020s, during the COVID-19 pandemic, you know? This blogging site that went kind of archaic - still active though, like a cockroach - found some fake movie label called Goncharov, produced by this Martin guy. Anyway, they went kind of insane.

PANCRIER: Ooh, I did an essay in high school about it.

SEASTAR: Why?

PANCRIER: You know, early internet stuff. Very interesting.

OWL: Eh, I'm more of a mid-late internet person, before the complete purge of the internet in- you know what? This isn't relevant.

[OWL is getting a little frustrated. Honestly, I don't know how she always sticks to a schedule. Also, OWL notably does not like Rachel Elizabeth Dare.]

SHADOW: We should give Rachel a codename.

GEMSTONE: Seconded.

SEASTAR: Thirded.

MECH: Fourthed.

PANCRIER: That's not a word.

MECH: Neither is pancrier, cry me a river.

SEASTAR: I, for one, propose the codename RED.

MIRROR: That's the stupidest code name I've ever heard.

SEASTAR: Have a better idea?

[MIRROR remains silent.]

GEMSTONE: What about Bianca's True Love? We can call her BTL for short.

SHADOW: First off, I object that nickname. Second off, BTL sounds way too close to BLT.

GEMSTONE: Which is your favourite sandwich.

SHADOW: And?

MIRROR: Actually, I have an idea. ORACLE, for her proposed prophecy powers. And because it sounds cool.

SEASTAR: Wouldn't that be an issue due to the Oracle not being allowed to date?

SHADOW: It will not, because no one's dating the Oracle.

MIRROR: Did that just come up in conversation? You're my best friend, Bianca, and I can't believe that you don't realize she's flirting with you.

SHADOW: She's not flirting with me. I asked, like a normal person.

GEMSTONE: Why did you ask?

OWL: Guys, we can't keep talking about SHADOW's admittedly disastrous love life. Personally, I like ORACLE.

MIRROR: Because it's a good codename.

SEASTAR: All who like ORACLE, say aye?

MIRROR, OWL, GEMSTONE, SHADOW, and PANCRIER: Aye.

SEASTAR: All who dislike ORACLE, say nay?

SEASTAR and MECH: Nay.

MIRROR: See, this is why you benefit from my genius. Ow!

[SEASTAR has kicked MIRROR's leg under the table. All laugh, except MIRROR.]

OWL, regaining her composure: Meeting adjourned. I am exhausted, and will have a cup of tea.

End transcript.

#crackfic #annabeth chase #percy jackson #leo valdez #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #hazel levesque #drew tanaka #grover underwood #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #pjo hoo toa #rachianca #i guess???

[tired-reader-writer]

If somebody brandished me in front of their entire household like that I'd die from sheer embarrassment.

Maybe it's because I know what's coming, I can't help but feel the grip of dread coiling around me. There's technically nothing wrong with Shaghad in these panels, but I find myself wincing and bracing myself. Like, he's presumably close to his household staff, they're all smiling, Elam looks really happy for them, but I can't share their smile. I wonder how I would've felt towards these panels if I didn't know what would happen (by the time this chapter came around and I first read it I unfortunately already watched the anime and knew what was coming).

We don't see his face, his eyes. His smile is a bit too wide. He doesn't respond to what Narsus actually said. Shaghad's “Narsus!” was said a little too forcefully.

He must've heard what Arslan represents, as established in previous chapters the residents of Gilan know Arslan wants to abolish slavery.

Shaghad wants no part of it.

First hint in the scene that, uh-oh, things aren't gonna be smooth sailing for Narsus.

“You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable." REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE. "Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—" YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. "So we can believe the big ones?" YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. "They're not the same at all!" YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED. "Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—" MY POINT EXACTLY.

I know the quote is only so tangentially relevant if you tilt your head sideways and squint, but I couldn't resist.

Stories are important, y'all.

Elam must be feeling so terrible, seeing as he was once a slave too (and looks like these slaves aren't even being treated kindly to boot, and Shaghad dares to proclaim “there's nothing wrong w the system if the master is merciful!” when he himself is not even a merciful master...)

Shaghad is the type of person that, when someone says “it's not fair!”, laughs and smugly sneers at the person “the world's not fair, deal with it”. Or one of those dudebro types who mock emotions and stuff by saying “brooo that's all chemicals nothing you say is valid and nothing you feel is real”.

God I hate this guy.

I do wonder when/how he changed, though. How'd he go from being so close to Narsus, enough for the latter to trust him, to... this? Maybe the inferiority-resentment combo he felt made him veer off-course. He was always the “disreputable” type, so I guess his descent wasn't very difficult.

This panel is making me feel things. Narsus and Elam are so small, the gates of Shaghad's estate looming behind them. The way the shadow is positioned evokes the feeling that they're leaving darkness behind. Compared to the grand, warm welcome they received with servants lining the gate, there's no one to see them off when they depart. Ough.

The way the line “When even a love may wither with time, why expect more of friendship?” is positioned over a panel of ocean waves about to erase footprints (I think?). Arakawa is a genius.

Also, Narsus sounds so dad-like in this scene, and Elam... is not okay. I wonder what he's thinking.

Oughohohoho Farangis PRETTY

How tf did Pelagius not recognize her, is he blind?? And of course, I loved the part where she just. THROWS HIM. Woman's STRONK.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #shaghad #narsus #elam #farangis

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Ianthe’s Makeover Through a Femme!Harrow Lens

“This seems like a good week to post about how I relate to Harrow as a fellow androgynous-femme,” I say, taking cover behind an industrial strength blast shield. (Joking, joking.)

But in all seriousness, this post has been in my drafts for a while. I’d seen the makeover scene in HtN described as “confusing” when it comes to Harrow’s gender, and I honestly thought it was too on first read.

So I wanted to take a closer look!

Spoilers: I don’t think it’s as simple as Harrow being uncomfortable with wearing dresses in the abstract.

Rather, the main aspect that stood out to me as making Harrow curl up like a shivering wet cat is the loss of control and the sexual haze permeating the whole affair. And I really do want to underline the latter aspect, because even before Dios apate Minor enters the picture, Ianthe herself repeatedly frames what she’s doing in terms of making Harrow more sexually desirable. More fuckable, if you will:

"God, what's this? That's a bit risqué-" You grew desperate. "Let me pick." Harrow the Ninth, p264

"Not even one of the Emperor's fists and gestures could give Harrowhark Nonagesimus a sexy makeover. Sometimes I think you look like a twig's funeral. In the right light, though-" Harrow the Ninth, p264

"You look just good enough that I'm proud of my handiwork, but not so good that I'll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl," she said. "I walked a fine line, and I walked it admirably." Harrow the Ninth, p266

But Ianthe also emphasizes: not too fuckable, Harrow shouldn’t misunderstand and become confident in her body, because Harrow is such a pitiful charity case that the only beauty she can ever hope to attain will be scraps distributed at Ianthe’s mercy. She’s… she’s literally doing the High School Mean Girl schtick of “I’ll help you look pretty as a favor, but don’t you dare challenge my place in the pretty pecking order.”

Which, to be honest, probably says a lot more more about Ianthe and Coronabeth and their issues than anything about Harrow! Like, tell me more, Ianthe, how do you feel about constantly being described as the lesser twin to your face? I’m sure that’s never hurt you and you’re not projecting here at all, haha.

But regardless of its effectiveness, to me this strategy reads as an attempt at a very femme-vs-femme power play. You want to talk about gatekeeping femme identity? Surprise surprise, so does Ms. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss!

As a result, Harrow, being a delightfully contrarian and passive-aggressive little shit even in the depths of having her agency denied, protests this in whatever small ways she can still find:

As an act of meaningless rebellion, you applied the sacramental skull of the Priestess Crushed Beneath the New-Laid Rock, the least beautiful skull in the canon. Harrow the Ninth, p266

“Fuck you and fuck trying to win your rigged game I didn’t even want to play,” essentially.

But note that Harrow doesn't wear a masculine-coded skull to protest Ianthe’s dress. (Are there gendered skulls in the canon? Muir could easily have made one up here, or had Harrow wear a pattern normally used by her father, Crux, or Ortus.) It’s not being seen as feminine or femme that she’s objecting to. Instead, Harrow goes for the ugliest skull, the “I don’t want to be perceived as desirable from any perspective” option.

And this actually reads very true to my own experiences! I’m somewhere between an androgynous and a non-mainstream feminine presentation myself, and I’ve had basically this exact same fight over what to wear at a social event. Right down to finding subtle ways to make myself less attractive to subvert the other person's attempt to control my appearance. Better something ugly that I chose myself than something playing by the rules that femme = signing up to be judged on the fuckability scale.

(Not, to be clear, that there’s anything wrong with pursuing or enjoying sexual attractiveness! Just that being forced into it feels really awful.)

Now, the topic of what does and doesn’t count as femme is… fraught and basically impossible to definitively nail down. But presenting as femme and/or feminine as part of one’s queerness often involves being in dialogue with other forms of femininity, picking and choosing which aspects to keep and which to reject. I’ve seen lipstick lesbians talk about their over the top makeup as a way to mark themselves as different from the heterosexual “natural look” norm. I myself love the gothic lolita look, because I like the idea of being seen as “feminine” in a transgressive way, but also potentially in a way that strikes other people as less sexual. (Though the nuances of lolita fashion could be a whole other discussion…)

Harrow’s presentation preferences aren’t quite the same as mine (she does not enjoy being seen as smaller or more childish), but she seems to share the desire for her unusual femme aesthetic to implicitly deflect from sexual interest rather than attracting it. She’s using her religion as a socially acceptable shield against Ianthe’s advances. Because given Ianthe’s reactions to the subject, flirting with a nun seems to be at least a little as taboo in TLT as it does in our world:

You simply said, “I have always slept alone.” “You don’t say.” You heard the primness in your voice when you said, “I am betrothed to the Locked Tomb, Tridentarius. I slept on a cot in my cell.” “I always forget you were an honest-to-God nun...” Harrow the Ninth, p260

Ianthe is an asshole who ignores Do Not Touch signals, but I think Harrow’s desperate clinging to her nun robes is, in part, another assertion of this implicit boundary. So I read the makeover scene as Harrow having an allergic reaction to being sexualized and objectified against her will (and to the entire idea that correctly performing as femme requires one to aspire to such), rather than disliking being perceived as femme or even feminine in general.

.

A second layer to this scene is the slimy cultural aspect to what Ianthe does. If the paint and full-body coverings are the Ninth's version of proper female attire, then Ianthe is forcing Harrow to perform to a very Third ideal instead:

“Will you take off that grotesque skeleton corset?” “No.” “What about your face paint?” “No.” “I do not know why I ask these questions,” she said. Harrow the Ninth, p265

I'm always wary of assuming modern racial dynamics apply to TLT’s universe, but y'all... this scene is a white woman forcing a brown woman from a stigmatized, minority religion to perform a normalized Western standard of femininity. Up to a rebuffed attempt to remove her face/hair coverings. Regardless of how much this dynamic applies in-universe, the real life parallels are not exactly subtle! Harrow could be the most feminine femme to ever gender within her culture, and what Ianthe does would still be extremely gross and coercive.

It’s also another direct callback to GtN - Ianthe forcing Harrow into fashionable Third norms is an inversion of the scene of Harrow forcing Gideon into Ninth facepaint. The same way that Harrow’s demeaning “Griddle” gets a dark reprise in Ianthe’s “Harry” and several other echoes in HtN of Harrow having to endure similar treatment from Ianthe as she once abused Gideon.

Ianthe is insisting that in order for Harrow to meet the dinner party’s standards, she must compromise her own culture’s standards. That Harrow’s own ceremonial robes aren’t expensive or nice enough to pass in a formal setting. She can be a well-dressed femme, or she can be a Ninth nun, but not both. Again, I don’t see Harrow’s objections to this treatment as being in conflict with Harrow having a femme-leaning identity, so much as Harrow being made wretchedly helpless and humiliated by having her Ninth heritage erased to fit Ianthe’s Third tastes.

.

Still not convinced? Finally, let’s contrast Ianthe’s makeover with the scene of Harrow getting ready for Abigail and Magnus’s anniversary in GtN:

She put on her best and most senescent Ninth robes, and became a skinny black stick swallowed by night-coloured layers of Locked Tomb lace. She fiddled with long earrings of bone in front of the mirror and repainted her face twice. Gideon the Ninth, p168

In any case, both she and Harrowhark turned up, gorgeously gowned in their Locked Tomb vestments, painted like living skulls, looking like douchebags. Harrow clinked when she walked with the sheer multiplicity of bonely accoutrement. Gideon the Ninth, p169

Here, Harrow is dressing purely according to her own decisions, and she actually doubles down on the more stereotypically feminine lace and jewelry rather than aiming for something wholly androgynous. She also does her best to appear neat and presentable here despite being a scruffly gremlin most of the time. Perfectionist that she is, Harrow is still nervous about her ability to perform it, but she’s confident in the specific femme aesthetic that she’s aspiring toward.

(Side note: You know who else wears an excessive amount of jewelry at Canaan House? Coronabeth. Was Harrow trying to look more like Corona, and if so, why? More crunchy gender food for thought…)

Ultimately. if your takeaway from the Ianthe makeover scene was "ah, Harrow would have been more comfortable if Ianthe gave her a suit" …I wouldn’t say that’s unreasonable. You could certainly do an alternative read of the scene as Ianthe force-feminizing a butch or nonbinary-leaning Harrow. (And if someone writes that essay I would love to read it!) But I don’t think that’s the only valid interpretation, and my personal read of the scene is that Ianthe is trying to coerce Harrow into a sexualized and gatekept definition of femme that Harrow strongly rejects.

It’s the pain and powerlessness of being told you’re doing your own gender wrong. Then having someone “helpfully” show you how to perform it right …only to look in the mirror afterwards and recognize yourself even less. And at that point, starting to miserably wonder if you’re even allowed to be your gender at all. Does that make sense?

Well, even if it doesn’t, thanks for reading to the end! 🖤 💀 🖤

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #tlt analysis #my tlt stuff #my ramblings #read more #note: edited a few bits 1.10.23 for further clarity of terms #anyway this seemed like a good segue #from last week’s ianthe-themed queue #into the harrow&ianthe art queue I'm planning to do next

[justsomeclintasha]

“You coming back in the field or what? They’ve had me paired with Fredericks. Never thought I’d miss your sorry ass.”

“Two more weeks of physical therapy and I’ll be good to go.”

“Thank God.” The agent laughs as he ducks into one of the medical rooms. Clint flexes his arm, the fresh stitches pulling tight. If it were up to him, he would have just ignored it, but unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him.

He’s just about to head back to his quarters when there’s a commotion down the hall.

Well, that’s putting it lightly.

Three agents run past him, weapons drawn. An alarm blares loudly from the speaker above him, and yet another man sprints by.

“What the hell…?” He follows, and the source quickly becomes apparent.

“She took my fucking gun!”

“Put it down!”

“Fuck this, just shoot her!”

“I said put it down!”

Clint barges past them, angling himself in front of the cornered redhead, and ignoring the gun in her hand.

“What happened?”

“She took-“

“I’m asking her!” he snaps. The room falls silent. The archer is levels above them. No one will dare to challenge him. “Get out. All of you.”

“But sir-“

“Now.” One by one, they file out, and the door shuts with a soft click. He turns to face her. She doesn’t lower her weapon. A shiny silver handcuff hangs from only one wrist. He cocks his head, considering, but there’s no fear in his eyes.

“Disarm,” she orders. Slowly, he reaches for his gun and hands it to her. She stuffs it in the back pocket of her jeans.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m going to get something out of my jacket. Don’t shoot me.” He pulls out a small lock pick tool and a tablet. He tosses the tool on one end of the bed and sits on the other. She quickly removes the cuff. If he notices her hand is trembling, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he pulls up a game on his tablet and ignores her. For several minutes, it’s silent.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing chess.”

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

“I have a gun. I could kill you.”

“Yep.”

Her footsteps are quiet as she paces the room. She stops at the window, looking out to the courtyard, the gun still in her hand.

“I panicked,” she admits, her voice so low he has to strain to hear her. “The doctor tried to restrain me and I just…” She swallows, shaking her head. “I fucked it up, Clint.”

“No, you didn’t. That was his fault. Not yours. We don’t do that shit here. You’re not in trouble.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I said so.” She sets the weapons on the windowsill, moving to join him on the bed. Absently, she rubs her wrist, watching him move chess pieces on the tablet screen.

“Are you any good?”

“Absolutely not.” The corner of his mouth curls into a smile, and he tilts the screen so she can see better.

“Can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“My medical exam.” He reaches for the paperwork and scans over it.

“I think so. It looks pretty basic. You okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Height and weight first.” They move through a series of simple, routine tests, and he checks off the papers. “Heart rate, temperature, I’m not sure what this means but it’s probably fine. Oh let me look in your ears with this little flashlight thing.” He shines the light in each ear, then writes something down. “Mhm, definitely potatoes growing in there.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, it’s an expression. I’m the last person to judge anyone’s ears,” he says with a grin, motioning towards his hearing aid. “Alright, last thing is bloodwork. You good?”

“Yeah.” She looks anywhere but her arm as he ties a rubber strap around it and preps the needle.

“Little pinch,” he murmurs as he slides it in her skin. She doesn’t flinch, but he rubs his thumb soothingly on her arm anyway as the vial fills. “You’re okay. Almost done. Deep breath.”

“It doesn’t make you less, you know,” she blurts out. He raises an eyebrow in question. “Your hearing aids. It doesn’t.”

“I know.” He places a band aid carefully on her arm. It’s bright purple, with cartoon dogs on it she doesn’t recognize, but one is wearing a police hat. “All done. I think we should go celebrate now with some burgers and a milkshake.”

“Just like that?” After everything, she expected punishment, not his typical carefree attitude and a smile.

“Yeah, Natasha. Just like that.“

#clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha fanfic

[dantheserialkillerman]

Dan X M!Priest Reader (2/3)

"A priest would not be a priest if he did not tell his flock what is right and wrong."

If asked, you claimed to have never cared for justice outside of God's will. But revenge was a different matter.

He came at least once a month, the church's Ehud. The justice Hero. Your Devil. Preaching stories of missing limbs, melting throats, and semi-erotic despair.

His eyes would catch your own through heaven-bright cracks of the confessional box when you dared to look back. 

Dancing dark grey flames reflected nothing but mirth. The ash of hellfire that gathered at your feet during each visit.

 Perhaps that was why you felt hot every time he whispered, "forgive me, father, for I have sinned." 

"Tell me what you did this time." 

"Fufu...do you enjoy my stories that much? I'll tell it gently so you can savour it." 

Could he tell how you gripped your rosary? Could he tell how your breathing changed? Savour it. Savour him. 

Did the Devil not know how he tormented you so? 

His presence became second nature. He seemed always to know when you were there, and quickly, you both developed an unspoken and unwritten schedule.  

The other priests were relieved to have been freed from his presence and, at first, offered you comfort. 

They would say, "remember Psalm 73:26, God is the strength of my heart," or, "didn't the Lord also test Job? Maybe this is your trial." With cups of tea as an apology. Perhaps it was more faithful to call it a bribe. Yet, they always wanted to hear about his crimes. 

Eventually, they also settled into a routine—a tale before prayer or bedtime.

The stone saints stared down in displeasure. It's not your fault you were holier than them. No, you are holier then them. Even the Devil told you his sins. How could they not understand that? Why do they stare in disgust?

Comfort in the church came from clasped hands and a one-way conversation asking for judgement not to be too heavy. 

Yet, your solace arrived beyond a wall in the melody of a sleepy voice dripping vitriol. 

Somehow he scratched The mark of the beast into your heart. 

"Father, do you think I am obscene?" The Devil asked. 

"His grace can forgive all wrongs you commit, and Heaven restores you in life. I have no place to judge, only advise."

 Your soul felt tight as it stretched out across your excuses. 

"Fufu, I see your point. But I don't talk or act in sin. I do good deeds, not for guidance or approval."

The Devil was delusional. 

"Then why do you come to confessional?" 

"For a dear friend."

His cruelty was playful in a way, but it was still cruelty. 

Remember Proverbs 31:30, logic told you, but long pale fingers tore into your brain, and heavy-lashed eyes formed Cheshire smiles, watching its destruction. 

The Devil was a fallen angel—the ultimate tempter. 

The Song of Solomon played as you sweated through your sheets and sinned into your hand. 

It was cruelty and blissful pain. 

"Destroy the body and save the soul."

The message remains the same regardless of how much you candied your words. 

"How do you wish to destroy me, father?"

With your hands and teeth and tongue.

"You know what my favourite place to be is?" 

Behind a camera? On the other side of a knife? Perhaps sitting against cross-stitch wood.

"On my knees, worshiping. Would you like to see? I am always ready to accept God into my body." 

Let the Devil drag you to the very bottom if your destiny was to drown. Let him fill up your lungs until you choked on nothing but him. 

"I do not hope to turn again because I do not hope. And I do not hope because I do not resist. Let me see you."

A fellow priest once asked, "do you know the Devil?"

"Intimately."

#brutal: confessions of a homicide investigator #hiroki dan #dan hiroki x reader #hiroki dan x reader #Dan Hiroki x male reader #brutal: satsujin kansatsukan no kokuhaku #brutal manga #kinda smut???? #not really but 🤷 #horror #manga #brutal hiroki dan #brutal: hiroki dan #brutal satsujin kansatsukan no kokuhaku #mangacap #ブルータル 殺人警察官の告白 #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #gothic #gothique #relgion #priest smut

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 12

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 4.8K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Twelve

You thought you might wake up with some regrets about what happened on the phone with Dennis last night but you’re feeling pretty great as you go about your morning routine. You have to say, Dennis is full of surprises. Never in a million years would you have thought that the nerdy, nervous wreck you met in the park that day—the guy with all the insecurities who’s convinced he can’t do a thing right when it comes to sex—would have such a dirty mind and a filthy mouth. It makes sense, though, when you think about it. He’s been so sex-starved for so long that all he’s had is his imagination. Still, thinking that stuff is one thing; actually saying it to you is another.

You’re really proud of him for finding the courage because you know he must have been afraid, and you’re proud of yourself, too—for being a safe place for him and shedding your own insecurities to do it. You can’t get enough of the way Dennis looks at you and the way he makes you feel. Last night, you didn’t feel ashamed of your body; you didn’t feel desperate or needy (even though you absolutely are, but in a good way). You’re starting to see yourself through Dennis’s eyes, and it makes you feel sexy and powerful and so, so wanted. It makes you feel loved, even, though he hasn’t said it, and you wonder how long it’s going to take him. You think that maybe you should just say it first to take some of the pressure off him, but that’s the one thing you can’t do. No, he needs to be the one to say it first because you have to know that he’s ready to say it; you have to know that he’s not just saying it back to avoid hurt feelings, because that’s exactly the kind of thing Dennis would do. 

You head to the kitchen for coffee and Mal is already holding your to-go mug with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“So, what were you doing last night?” she asks, but you can tell she already knows.

“Don’t you dare,” you reply, taking the coffee from her outstretched hand. “After everything I’ve had to listen to, I know you’re not giving me shit right now.”

Mal laughs. “Not giving you shit, not judging, just curious is all. When I got home I thought for a second you might not be alone in there…”

“We were just having a little quality FaceTime,” you tell her coyly.

“Love that for you,” she says. “So, how is Big Boy at the whole phone sex thing?”

“Shockingly good. Like, I might actually die if I don’t get to see him soon. I feel like I’m going crazy, and I think…”

You trail off, not wanting to jinx it, by Mal doesn’t let you off the hook. “You think what?”

“I think… I mean, I hope that Saturday might be… you know… the day.”

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaims. “I mean I really thought you guys were gonna fuck the other night after dinner. I mean, after what he said, I just thought-”

“Wait,” you stop her. “What do you mean what he said? What did he say?”

“Oh! Uhhh…” Mal looks up, down, around—anywhere but at you as she speaks. “I mean, he just told me that he was really into you and that he thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous, and it was like so obvious at the table that he wants to rail you… like anyone could see it. That’s all.”

You don’t believe her—you know what Mal’s lying face looks like—but you’re running late for work and you don’t have time to press her on it.

“Yeah,” you say, “ok. Sure. So, dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely,” she says, looking relieved to have gotten out of whatever mess she put herself in. “See you at 8.”

You don’t exactly have a bad feeling as you leave your apartment and drive to work, but you feel a bit unsettled. You don’t like that Mal is keeping something from you; you know there is more to it than what she told you, but you also know that she wouldn’t lie to you without a good reason. You push it out of your mind, though, because you trust her and you trust Dennis and you don’t feel like spending the day doubting yourself and everyone around you. You’ve got a lot of work to get done and you need to occupy your mind with thoughts that don’t involve Dennis because otherwise you might completely lose it.

Three more days.

***

Dennis spent the workday trying and failing to put you out of his head. After the little show you put on for him last night, he’s more desperate than ever to be with you, but he knows he has to get through his appointment with Dr. Porter first—that there’s things he needs to discuss before he sees you next and lays it all on the line.

The workday drags, the only bright spots in his day being your phone call at lunch and the few texts you sent throughout the day—all very PG (occasionally PG-13), just discussing who is coming to the party and what stuff to buy and cook. Dennis actually got up the nerve to invite a few people from work (or formerly from work), and he was happy to report to you that Gary is coming along with the receptionist, Lydia, and another guy from his department, Dave, who is bringing his wife and two kids. He wouldn’t consider any of them close friends, of course, but over the past year he has actually gotten to know Lydia pretty well.

They are a bit of an odd pair, he knows; she’s a 60-something-year-old lady who loves to talk about her grandkids, her Yorkie, and Dennis’s (lack of a) personal life, but Dennis knows that it comes from a place of love. She always tells him how much he reminds her of her son, and she’s sort of adopted him as his work mom. They don’t talk to or see each other outside of work, but she always drops by his desk with baked goods and occasionally they’ll sit on the bench outside and have lunch together. Lydia is easy to talk to. She reminds him of his own mother, if his mother had been a chain-smoking, hard-drinking Italian broad. What they do share is the ability to put Dennis at ease while still telling it like it is. Dennis likes that in a woman; it’s one of the things he likes so much about you.

You were ecstatic to hear that Dennis would be having some guests of his own and that it wouldn’t just be your friends taking over his house. You’re especially excited to meet Lydia, who Dennis has assured you knows all about you and approves. As for your friends, it will be Mal and her not-boyfriend, the newly engaged couple from the shelter, and your coffee shop friend and her wife. Not including you and Dennis, that’s 10 adults and 2 kids—a manageable number for Dennis’s first house party. He’s nervous about it, but you’ve told him not to worry, that you’re going to handle everything, and that all he needs to do is help you with the shopping and setting up. You’d even offered to pay for the food but of course he won’t allow you to spend a dime of your own money. He’d appreciated the offer, though, because he knew you actually meant it—that you don’t just treat him like a walking credit card and assume he’ll buy you whatever you want whenever you want it.

Of course, he happily would and wouldn’t think twice about it—Dennis knows you don’t have a ton of disposable income—but he’s learned from Dr. Porter that, while gifts are certainly one of the love languages, he should be cautious about falling into old patterns. He can’t buy love, and he should avoid putting himself in a situation where he feels taken advantage of. But that’s not you; you never expect anything from him even though you know he’s wealthy, but that just makes Dennis want to give you the world. 

He knows that he shouldn’t, for example, buy you a new car because yours is a piece of shit that breaks down every two months and Dennis doesn’t feel like you’re safe in it. He wants to, though. He wants to spoil you rotten, and he’s already ordered an almost certainly over-the-top gift for you—something he knows you’ll go crazy for. He’s excited to give it to you on Saturday before the party, and he’s sure you’ll make good use of it.

Dennis is so lost in thoughts of you and all the things he wants to do for you (and to you) that he doesn’t even notice that Dr. Porter’s previous appointment is running long. But Dennis doesn’t mind, because he has to get some things off his chest in there, and he’s not quite ready yet even by the time Dr. Porter’s patient leaves and he invites Dennis inside.

“Sorry about that,” Dr. Porter says as Dennis takes his usual seat. “Lots of catch-up to do after my vacation. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you in sooner.”

Dr. Porter looks very tan and Dennis’s mind wanders to the thought of whisking you away to some exotic beach somewhere and keeping you in a bikini (or less) for a few days. It’d be nice, but it can’t happen right now. One day, though…

“Dennis? You with me?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I was just… what did you say?”

“I asked how your week has been.”

“Oh, of course. Well, uh, it’s been… a lot actually.”

And as Dennis becgins to recount the events of the past week, he realizes just how much he’s managed to cram in since the last time he spoke with Dr. Porter. He doesn’t go into specifics about exactly what the two of you have been up to, but he’s happy to report that you’ve had many of the important conversations that Dr. Porter suggested. As expected, the Doc wants to spend some time discussing the Karen situation, even though Dennis would prefer not to.

“I’m very proud of you for the way you are handling things with your ex-wife at the moment,” Dr. Porter says, uncrossing and crossing his legs. “That could have been a paralyzing situation for you, and you dealt with it very well.”

“I’m just glad I told her about Karen before she showed up shitfaced and screaming at my door,” Dennis replies. “It’s like she knew exactly what to do. She wasn’t scared of her at all.”

“What I’m hearing is that your partner made you feel safe and protected, is that right?”

“Yes, exactly. I feel safe with her. I feel like… I don’t know… almost like a different person. Like I can actually be who I want to be and do things I want to do. I mean, I’m still nervous.”

“And that’s perfectly normal,” Dr. Porter replies. “It’s your brain’s way of trying to shield you from potentially dangerous situations—like a sort of warning alarm going off—only right now your brain is wired to view almost any new experience as a potential threat. The good news is that you seem to be able to look rationally at these situations and turn off that alarm when it’s a false one instead of freezing up or backing off. This is real progress, Dennis.”

“I, uh, yeah. I feel pretty good about it. I mean, there’s still the whole going to court thing to deal with, but the court date isn’t for a few weeks and, uh, there’s other stuff I’d rather discuss today if we can.”

“What exactly would you like to discuss?” he asks, and Dennis takes a breath.

 “Well, you know how we’ve talked a lot about what I need from a relationship… like, my dealbreakers?”

“Yes, of course,” he replies, a slight look of concern on his face. “Is there something about your girlfriend that doesn’t meet the criteria?”

“No… I mean… I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared to ask her if she wants kids. It feels like, I don’t know, kind of crazy to drop a bomb on her like, ‘Hey, do you want to have children because I can’t be with you if you don’t,’ you know?”

“There are better ways to phrase that, Dennis, but yes, I understand your hesitation. At the same time, this is a huge deal for you. It’s something you feel is missing in your life, something you’ve decided that you need in order to feel fulfilled, and you deserve to get what you want out of life. It’s incredibly important that you discuss this with your girlfriend, that you’re on the same page about your future. If she doesn’t want the same things that you do, she isn’t the right person for you in the long run. I don’t want you to put yourself in a position where you need to make a choice between a woman you love and the life that you want.”

“I’m just…” Dennis clenches and unclenches his fists. “I’m so close.”

“So close to what?”

“I’m going to tell her how I feel this weekend,” Dennis says, trying to read Dr. Porter’s face and failing. “I’ve already decided so don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“I would never tell you not to express your feelings, Dennis. You know that. And if you feel that strongly for her, then you should tell her that. However, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she may not feel the same way, or that even if she does, she may not want the same things that you do.”

Dennis shakes his head because he simply cannot and will not believe that’s a possibility. You were made for him, he knows it. He can feel his whole upper body tense up and he knows that Dr. Porter noticed.

“OK, let’s back up a bit. You said you want to tell her about your feelings this weekend. That’s three days away. Do you think you could have a conversation with her at some point over the next three days in which you could broach the subject of children?”

“I’m not going to be able to see her until Saturday,” Dennis responds. “And, I mean, how do you just bring that up nonchalantly in a fucking text message or a phone call? I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up face-to-face. I just… it makes me feel kind of desperate. I don’t want her to think I’m some old man who only wants to be with her so she’ll have my babies.”

“Having an open, honest conversation about what you want out of a relationship, out of your future life with someone, has nothing to do with desperation. These are your insecurities talking. This is that voice telling you that you don’t deserve the things you want out of life. There’s nothing desperate or strange about a man your age wanting to have children.”

“She’s younger than me,” Dennis says. “I mean, not by a weird amount or anything, but what if she just hasn’t really thought about it yet?”

“If that’s the case, then you need to know that, too.” Dr. Porter looks at Dennis with as much sympathy as he can while still remaining professional and objective. “I know it’s hard, but it’s only this hard because it’s something that’s very important to you. If she feels the same way about you as you feel about her, she wouldn’t want you to give up something you want out of life. Just talk to her, Dennis, and whatever happens, at least you’ll know.”

“And what if I decide I don’t care either way? What if I choose her? Does that make me weak?”

Dr. Porter sighs and taps his pen on his notebook a few times. “Dennis, this is a dealbreaker for a reason. And yes, you are free to make your own choices, but I would highly encourage you to really think about why you’d be willing to sacrifice your own personal needs for a woman you’ve only known for a short period of time.”

“Because I love her,” Dennis snaps, but he’s instantly ashamed that he raised his voice. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to get upset. I’m just afraid. I want a life with her so badly, and I know we haven’t been together long—I know that—but I feel like I’ve known her my entire life.” Dennis looks at Dr. Porter. “Do you believe in soul mates?”

“No,” he replies immediately. “At least, not in that magical, fated to be together sort of way. I do believe that there are people in the world that are uniquely suited to us, but I don’t believe that there is only one person in the world we are fated to be with, no. I find the concept of soul mates too simplistic; it doesn’t take into account the realities of how healthy relationships work and that they take actual work to maintain.”

“Geez, Doc. Tell me how you really feel.”

Dr. Porter chuckles. “Sorry, but I’m not letting you off the hook here with some claim that she’s your soul mate. However, if you really do believe in soul mates and you believe that she is your soul mate, then you have no reason to be afraid to ask her if she wants children, right? Because your soul mate—the person made for you—would obviously want them.”

Dennis knows the Doc is just humoring him, but that actually does make him feel a little better. Because you are made for him—Dennis feels it on a cellular level—and he just needs to man up and ask you the question. Because the Doc is right: he shouldn’t give up on his dreams for you or for anyone else. He wants to be a husband and a father, and if that’s not what you want, then you’re not the right woman for him. Best to know that now, even if it will absolutely destroy Dennis to learn that you’re not as perfect for him as he thinks you are.

***

“So what’s going on with Mr. Hipster,” you say, twirling your linguine on your fork.

Mal sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, I like him. I really like him, I just don’t know if I can date another fucking musician. They’re all narcissists and cheaters.” She takes a sip of her wine and you can tell she’s frazzled. “But he seems… different. I just… I don’t fucking know. I can’t commit, ok? I have issues.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” you ask. “I mean, like, what he’s looking for in a relationship, if he’s just trying to be casual or…”

“Fuck no,” she says. “That’s the kind of mature, adult thing that you would do.”

You laugh. “It’s scary, sure, but it helps. At least you’ll know.”

“What if he just lies to get in my pants? Musicians are fucking liars, too.”

“Mal, he’s already been in your pants.”

“True,” she says, “but what if he lies to stay in my pants?”

You put on your best mom-friend face and tell her, “Just have the conversation.”

“Can I just text him? I don’t think I can actually do it in person.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean, you can do it however you want to do it.”

“I didn’t fucking want any of this,” she says. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I just wanted to bang a hot drummer and I went and fucked around and caught feelings.” She sneers when she says the word, like it’s poison on her tongue. “Ugh. God, I hate this shit.”

You giggle but you feel bad for Mal. You know how much she struggles with commitment—divorced parents and too many cheating exes will do that to a person.

“Mal,” you say, “I can see how much you like this guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Just talk to him.”

“Fuck,” she says, “fine. But I’m texting.”

You help Mal craft the text message as you both finish your dinner and she pours the rest of your shared wine bottle in her glass before she hits send.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This was a mistake,” she says, taking a huge gulp of her cabernet. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“It does feel kind of absurd that I’m the one giving you relationship advice.”

“It’s not,” she replies. “You managed in one week to get into a healthier relationship than I’ve ever been in my entire life, so you clearly know something I don’t.” She looks down at her phone and drums her fingers on the table before taking another slug of wine. “Shit. He’s not responding.”

“It’s been like 30 seconds. Relax.”

“Wait… oh God. He’s typing. Fuck, I can’t do this. Here, take my phone.”

She shoves her phone across the table at you and hides her head behind her hands, cursing and groaning. You stare down at the ellipses stopping and starting and you pray to whoever is listening that this guy is worth your best friend’s affections, that he says the right thing and that he fucking means it. The phone dings and Mal curses again, and when you read Carl’s text, you get butterflies.

I want something serious with you. Something real. I didn’t think you did but I was hoping I’d win you over eventually ;) Stay over tonight? I’ll burn you breakfast in the morning…

“Well,” you say, “I think he’s all in.”

“What did he say? Give me the phone.” She reaches across the table and snatches it from your hand, and when she reads the message she practically has little hearts swirling around her head. She lets out a dreamy sigh and looks at you, squinting a little. “You think he means it? Like, is he actually for real? Because I’m so fucking tired of being dissapointed.”

“If you really like him, you have to trust him.”

“I don’t trust men,” she says. “They make it impossible.”

“Not all of them,” you reply, and suddenly you’re hit with a pang of missing Dennis.

You’d put him out of your mind for most of dinner, focusing instead on Mal’s relationship issues, but now all you want is to be with him. You know Mal is going to leave and finally go stay the night with Carl, and that you are going to spend the night alone and wish that it was you fucking your boyfriend and falling asleep next to him. But you’re close now. The day’s almost over, and the it’s just two more fucking days.

“So,” you say, “are you gonna take him up on his offer?”

Mal smiles softly as she responds to his text, then looks up at you and says, “How could I not?”

After packing an overnight bag, Mal leaves you and Badger on the couch. You decide to have one more glass of wine because you’re only on the late shift tomorrow and you don’t have to wake up early. You text Dennis, telling him that you’re home from dinner, and he texts you back immediately.

Can we talk?

You feel your heart start pumping double-time because no three-word combination can launch more anxiety into a person faster than those. You take a sip of your wine before taking a deep breath, and then you call Dennis.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately.

“Nothing. Why?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Dennis, you can’t just text ‘can we talk?’ That’s, like, the universal phrase for ‘I’m about to say something horrible.’”

“Shit,” he says. “I didn’t think about that. I just, y’know, wanted to talk to you.”

You huff out a laugh. “I was about to have a heart attack. You’re so fucking clueless sometimes.”

“I’m clueless most of the time. That’s why I need you to teach me this stuff.”

“OK, well today’s lesson is if you want to talk, just fucking call me. Never ever text me ‘Can we talk?’ because I will freak the fuck out and think you’re breaking up with me or dying or something.”

“I’m not doing either of those things,” he says, but there’s something weird in his voice—some hesitance. “I did want to ask you something, though.”

“Dennis! That’s not any better! Just ask the thing. Don’t say you’re going to ask the thing!”

You can hear Dennis take a breath before he says, “So, I saw Dr. Porter today and he told me that I need to ask you what you want, like, in the future.”

You tilt your head and knit your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Dennis sighs deep. “OK, I don’t even know how to say this without it being weird, and I’ve clearly already made it weird a couple times, so I’m just going to say it.” He clears his throat. “When I started therapy with Dr. Porter, we talked a lot about relationship red flags and dealbreakers—like, stuff that I absolutely need to have in a relationship in order to be happy. And one of those thing is that I really want to have kids. Like, not today or anything, I just need to be with someone who wants to have a family because Karen didn’t. She fucking lied to me and said she did before we got married and then she wouldn’t do it. So, yeah, there it is. I’m sorry to just lay this on you but I… I need to know if we want the same things before this goes any further. I know you’re younger than me and maybe you haven’t even thought about this at all and I sound like a crazy old man who-”

“Dennis,” you interrupt him. “You don’t sound crazy. And I love kids. I want them. I’ve always wanted a bunch of kids and a bunch of dogs running around.”

“Oh, thank God,” he says. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to have to choose because I know I would have chosen you.”

God, you love him. If he was here right now you swear you’d let him put a baby in you today. 

“I’m actually glad you asked,” you say “because I was scared that you didn’t want them. I mean, you were married all that time and you didn’t have any…”

“I get it. It’s weird, I know.”

“It’s not weird—not if you don’t want kids—I just… I really wanted you to want them because I would have chosen you, too.”

“You’re perfect,” he says. “Fuck, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. So much. This is awful.”

“Two more days,” he says.

“Two more days.”

You sigh and take a sip of wine. Part of you wants to ask him to come over right this second, and you know that he would, but he has to be at work in 8 hours and it’s not fair to ask that of him. You know how busy he is, how much he has to do. You hear him yawn on the other end of the line.

“I should let you go,” you say. “You have to be up early.”

“I’d rather stay up all night with you,” he replies.

“You’d regret that choice at work tomorrow.”

“I’d never regret one second with you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up and God you want to see him so bad. It would be so easy, too. You know he would jump in the car right now if you invited him, but that would be selfish of you. You don’t have work in the morning, and you wouldn’t want him to leave Jax alone at night anyway.

“Goodnight, Dennis,” you say. “Give Jax a kiss for me.”

“He’s fast asleep,” he replies. “But I’ll give him extra kisses in the morning. Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

When you hang up, you feel like a weight has been lifted—and not just because now you know for sure that Dennis wants the same thing as you but also because you know how he must have been agonizing over that, how scared he must have been to bring that up with you. But he did it, he conquered that fear, because he feels safe with you. It makes you feel so fucking good that you can be the person he needs you to be.

You’re up half the night with the rest of that bottle of wine, and as you get progressively drunker, you end up fantasizing about weddings and babies. You look at dresses again. You look up the meaning of baby names you like. By the time you pass out around 3am, you’ve already planned the next ten years of your life. You feel absolutely insane but you don’t care because you’re absolutely, hopelessly, crazy in love with Dennis and you’ve decided that maybe it’s time you tell him that.

PART THIRTEEN >>>

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[notinthislife50]

Chapter 8

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"Why do you call her Dorothy?" Bruce asked.

"Well, let's see. We have the tin man," you said, pointing at Tony. "The scarecrow," you continued, pointing at Captain America while smirking. "And the cowardly lion," you nodded toward Bruce. "But I'm guessing not by choice, huh, Hulk?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Okay, enough. We've been watching you for a while, and we think it would be beneficial if you joined our team. We've seen your powers and your apartment," she smirked. "We pay a good wage. What would you have to lose?"

Wade looked at you, saying, "Well, our apartment is a shithole."

You looked at him in shock and huffed, "Our apartment is not a shithole; it's a palace. How dare you!" You frowned at him. "But," you continued, "I did see Captain Blatt trying to start another coup, so maybe we better stay away for a while."

"Alright, Dorothy, we're in," you smacked the table, standing up.

"This is going to be exhausting," Tony whispered.

After a few days, Loki still hadn't said anything.

You were spinning in a chair and threw your head back, whining, "This is so boring. I thought being an Avenger would be more fun."

You then turned to Wade and said, "Hey, want to play hide and seek?"

"What age are you?" Tony asked.

Wade ignored him and turned to you, saying, "Sure, off you go." You shimmered away.

"Hide and seek, really?" the Captain scoffed.

"Yeah, flagpole," Wade shot back. "You're forgetting she's a shape-shifter. I have to work out which of you she has turned into." With that, Wade ran off.

"This should be interesting," Clint laughed, turning to watch Wade on the camera.

Meanwhile, you teleported into the holding cell, scaring a young guard.

"Hey, you know who I am and what I can do," you carefully asked.

He nodded slowly.

"Good, so you know I'm not here to hurt you. But I am going to turn into someone else, so please don't freak out," you pleaded.

You then morphed into Maria Hill.

Turning to the guard, you said, "Just play along. Please."

After a short while, Wade entered the holding cell and saw Maria and some guy looking over files. He walked over.

"Has anyone seen Y/N?" he asked.

"Nope," Maria answered without even looking up. "Aren't you two usually joined at the hip?"

"No, not always," Wade defended.

As the young guy walked off, Wade moved closer to Maria.

"You know Y/N and I aren't a couple," he said.

"Huh huh," Maria still didn't look up.

"Just friends," he tried again.

"Huh huh," Maria replied once more.

Wade then placed a finger on her arm and rubbed it up and down. This caught Maria's attention.

"You know, the first day I saw you, I always thought you were incredibly sexy," he stated.

"Really?" Maria answered, moving in closer.

"Definitely," Wade whispered, leaning closer.

They were almost a hair's length away from each other's lips.

"Wanted to do this for a long time," Wade said, sounding hesitant.

"Me too," Maria agreed, not sounding convincing.

As you both leaned in, Maria stopped and yelled, "Concede," shape-shifting back into yourself. "God, that got too close," Wade despaired. "Too close," you whispered.

Wade then left the room, leaving just you and Loki, who you hadn't noticed was watching you through the whole display.

"Such a waste of talent," he stated.

You whipped around, looking at him.

"This isn't going to be pretty," Natasha said, as the rest of the team were still looking at the cameras.

"You know what, Bambi? All this bravado you have, I see right through it," you said with disdain.

"Oh really?" Loki retorted, trying to look unconcerned.

"Yes, really," you answered. "I'm probably the only one in this entire place who actually feels sorry for you, who actually understands you," you confirmed. "I know what it's like for people to judge me at first glance. I know what it's like for people to judge me before they get to know me," you continued.

"Is that so?" Loki asked. "Are you sure they aren't judging you because of the many people you've killed?" he smirked.

"No," you stated. "I studied my people. I made sure they were murderers, rapists. I made sure they were guilty."

"What I didn't do," you continued, "was throw my toys out of the pram because I didn't get my own way. I didn't go around killing innocent people." You finished.

As you said your last word, you heard a voice from behind you say your name in a stern tone.

"Y/n," the Captain warned.

You whipped around, only to see him looking at you, arms folded, with a scowl on his face.

You whipped back around to Loki.

"Grow the fuck up, Loki." And as you turned on your heel, you passed the Captain and whispered, "Fuck you, Apostle."

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