#and not afraid to call his friends out on their misogynistic bullshit

[steely-eyedmissileman]

The Vampire Diaries, Ep. 1x09

History Repeating

when i saw the title for this episode, i was afraid because i do not want much of the history of this show to repeat. i don't want damon to kill more people. i don't want elena to become katherine. what i had failed to consider was that bianca lawson exists in this show's history. and i very much want to see her again. luckily, this episode will indulge me, heavily.

we begin in bonnie's dream, again. it's a great dream, a fabulous dream, a dream wonderfully full of layers and levels and moments. the greatest things happens: bonnie wakes up from her dream, but not really. she wakes up within the dream and then wakes up again! this is the best dream we've had yet in this show. and i'm hopeful that there will be more!

then we go to school for real and meet the new history teacher: alaric saltzmann, which is the most evil name i've ever heard. our attention is not only casually drawn to this name, it is forcibly held here for several minutes as alaric saltzmann talks about his name at length.

alaric saltzmann calls jeremy into the classroom and reveals that dead history teacher whose name i forgot had a 'jackass file,' which contained almost exclusively jeremy. alaric saltzmann then says that he will allow jeremy to get some extra credit and save his grade if he writes an essay about local history. also, i swear jeremy's hair didn't look like this before. this whole thing furthers my thinking that alaric saltzmann is very sus. i am betting he's a vampire.

we also get a very funny bit where damon and stefan talk from each other's point of view, which is very funny because neither of them respects the other. later in the episode, my girlfriend asked, 'is the role-play helping them?' to which i responded, 'it's funny for me.' (i don't really think it's helping them.)

now, it's time to talk about my favorite girl! it's bonnie time! (and bianca lawson!) some things to cover quickly: bonnie is not being haunted. bonnie needs to embrace the necklace. she can't step up to the next step of itchiness if she's hiding from it at every turn. she needs to embrace bianca lawson. (don't we all?)

then, we go to school, and matt and caroline are weird around each other. (i forgot about when he spent the night in her room last episode, so i was initially quite confused by this turn of events.) i think matt is the best possible boyfriend of the named men on tvd thus far. however, he is still a stupid dum dum.

then, stefan is there. i don't really remember how he got there. stefan reveals that bonnie's necklace once belonged to katherine. also, this conversation leaves me with a question, why didn't elena want stefan to kill damon? i want stefan to kill damon. it's my greatest wish. then stefan and elena break up more. they're already broken up, but they intensify it. stefan is going to stop coming to school. 'it'll be easier if you hate me.' the problem, stefan, is that you don't actually want to break up with elena. you just think that this is what's best for her. and you know what that is, stefan? misogynist bullshit.

now that i've roasted stefan, let's roast damon. he is in the parking lot threatening bonnie and trying to get the necklace back. i wrote in my notes, 'i hate him so much, can he do anything other than be super creepy to teenage girls?'

speaking of creepy vampires, alaric saltzmann is talking to jenna. unfortunately, i think jenna is going to fuck him eventually. i also think he killed his wife and is a vampire.

meanwhile, in the same bar, damon says 'i could rip your heart out and not think twice about it.' stefan replies, 'i've heard that before.' damon really cares about his brother (insofar as he will not murder him)! damon then reveals that his evil plan is to bring katherine back from the dead! i predicted this!

back at the gilbert house, the girls are bonding! caroline and bonnie are friends again, but then caroline finds the necklace in bonnie's bag. bonnie and elena are adamant she threw the necklace away, meaning that the necklace is following bonnie. then, caroline suggests having a seance, an idea only caroline would think is good. the idea prompted me to say, out loud, to the screen, 'don't fuck with the magicks,' which is always good advice.

bonnie gets locked in the bathroom, in a truly harrowing scene as elena and caroline try to get to her. finally, the door unlocks and bonnie walks out of the bathroom, totally normal. psych! it's bianca lawson. we see her in the mirror, in a surprisingly good shot for this show. bianca lawson piloting bonnie then walks to the old church, where damon shows up.

lore time! katherine has been locked in an underground vault for a century and a half. damon knew that the council was going to kill katherine, so he made a deal with bianca lawson to save her. she trapped everyone inside the church in a vault underground. in order to do this, she had to use the energy from the comet passing overhead, meaning that they could only be released from the vault after the same comet appeared again. that's why damon came to mystic falls!

plot time! bianca lawson piloting bonnie destroys the necklace, preventing the vampires from being released. damon bites her as elena and stefan run up. stefan feeds bonnie his blood, saving her from death. damon runs away. later, we learn that bonnie will not be turned into a vampire, since she needs to die with a vampire's blood in her system in order to be turned. this is very relieving because i do not want bonnie to be a vampire.

stefan claims that katherine compelled both of them into being in love with her. (if i may speculate, i believe that his reasoning is that he is in love with elena and this doesn't feel how he felt about katherine. i think that the differences in emotional tone have led him to conclude that he was never in 'real love' with katherine, meaning she must have compelled him.) damon says that katherine never compelled him, which has two possible meanings. either he's pathetic or he was evil when he was human.

stefan then talks to elena. i was certain they were going to get back together. instead, he says he's going to leave town. unfortunately, this means that i was incorrect when i predicted when they were going to get back together. then we have sad music that is not the vibe.

meanwhile, jenna is flirting with alaric saltzmann. he asks to be invited inside, but jenna refuses because of jeremy. good for you, jenna! do not let this creepy vampire history teacher into your house! unfortunately, her night goes from bad to worse when fucking newsboy showed up. (in my notes, this is written as 'no bitch you're dead/logan's a vampire?!' which unfortunately proves that i do know fucking newsboy's name.) my current theory is that alaric saltzmann sired fucking newsboy. we know damon couldn't have done it because he was on screen during the crucial time, and stefan would never. alaric saltzmann is the only other vampire (alleged) that we know. case closed.

#the vampire diaries #semmwatchlog

[serenemy]

this person targets immobile women. he tells people he likes thick women. this is a cover story. first it’s not enough that they be thick. he needs them immobile. so what he really wants is a woman so extreme plus sized that she can barely move. and it isn’t an attraction thing. to the contrary, he is embarrassed of these relationships and doesn’t want to be seen with them or have anyone know

i was targeted because i have extreme mobility limitations due to some chronic health problems. he also thought i was so neurodivergent as to have literal difficulty talking out loud (i do but in normal situations i can overcome it well enough for it not to be obvious). he also had assumed i was bigger than i actually was (i was bigger than i’d ever been at the time but it wasn’t big enough to impact mobility). i was also 16 years older than him and hadn’t been with anyone in a decade and a half. in other words he thought i was old, insecure about my size, immobile, lonely, and incapable of appearing “normal” irl

the reason he needs all this is because he has a serious sexual dysfunction and basically needs to fuck for hours to days to get off. he knows he has this problem but he withholds the information and only springs it on people once it becomes obvious the sex is going horribly wrong. and he needs them to be someone other people will dismiss when they try to speak up

if he can’t get immobile women, he also targets women who are afraid of “passing.” he assumes straight trans women who haven’t had bottom surgery and are worried about “passing” are desperate enough for attention from a cis het man that they will go along with his bullshit. but at the same time he’s embarrassed of them and never sticks up for trans rights in the circles where i first encountered him

we never had a romantic relationship. we were friends. he told me lots of stories about other women. one of them was about his hopes to eventually target another woman i know who has health conditions like mine that impact mobility

also he himself told me the story about another online woman who tried to warn people about him. i guess she told some lies about him. here’s the thing though. i heard about their sexual encounters from him and they were sketchy. i believe her because of things he told me

later when i started calling him out privately about his shit he started an online campaign to oust me from our circles. and he told mind-blowing misogynistic lies about me and our relationship to do it. he also deleted accounts to erase the DMs where he said this stuff and the DMs that made it clear all the romantic things we said to each other were pre-agreed repeatedly to just be fantasy/role play. then he created new accounts to follow me across platforms to make my online life miserable so i would leave our circles like the other online woman eventually had to do

he’s a garbage person who mistreats women. i’m a self-professed slut and sorry not sorry about it. but other than an actual sexual assault by a stranger when i was 19 that was reported to and investigated by the police, i’ve never encountered this level of evil. i’ve never accused a lover of mistreatment because none of my lovers ever has. i’ve never had a man not leave me alone when asked

i think only garbage people would continue to associate with him. only garbage people would keep helping him silence the women who try to speak out

i’ll never stop trying. you all let him stalk me around the internet about made up stuff for five months. i have the rest of my life to keep talking about this

and i will

[bidickgrayson]

when you’re a sensitive baby who wants to cry bc you’re reminded that the group of guys you love playing destiny with do still hate women even tho they like you

hahahahahaha i’m sad :(

#at least i got confirmation that the guy i thought was great is in fact great #and not afraid to call his friends out on their misogynistic bullshit #but he was the only one so it was basically me and the one other woman of the clan #going like 'this is misogynistic bullshit' #and a bunch of dudes being like '*rolls eyes* ur making shit up' #other than the one great guy was backing us up/calling ppl out on his own which i really really appreciated #anyway this really ruined my day lol :( wish i could not be so sensitive :( wish men didn't suck :( #wish i hadn't wanted/hoped for better from a group of men who i actually like play with :( #and like. there's one guy who was like. the worst. and i kind of would never choose to play with him again? #(i didn't like him before bc he would make sexist jokes about his gf and i was always unconvinced they were jokes/not actual beliefs) #(and this argument just confirmed that i was right and he is pretty unapologetically misogynistic) #but in order to do that i would have to choose not to play in times where i would otherwise want to #bc he's friends with a lot of the regulars and i like most of the regulars but.... #:(((((((((((((((((((( anyway :((((((((((((((((( #talking to myself #eta: i'd actually love to talk to the guy who i mentioned was great more #bc he actually called out something i was (pleasantly) surprised registered with him #which was the guy i mentioned who i hate referring to women as 'females' #and the guy i like was like 'lol seriously dude 'females'?' #and the guy was like 'what did i use the wrong pronouns' (this guy can go fuck himself) #and the guy i like was like 'well i would use 'women' but that's just me...' #and like. idk that stands out bc men using 'females' is kind of a red flag to me #so the fact that the guy i liked recognized it as such too was. validating. and nice. lol #and he's said other things where i'm like. i feel like we're definitely on the same page wrt politics

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

I'm annoyed when women criticise certain characters it's always labelled as misogyny. For example criticising peggy for literally working with n*zis and knowing what they did in her agency. But we don't even have to go to TWS and later films to criticise her. She wasn't that good in TFA. She literally shot Steve (she barely knew him) out of jealousy. I don't care even if they were dating and he cheated on her she had no right to shoot him (also it wouldn't be cheating cause he was literally SA'd but even if he willingly kissed the girl he would be doing nothing wrong). Or the fact she got upset he chose bucky aka his best friend over her because she put on a red dress boohoo or when she romantically ignored him until he got buff or when she (also hayley atwell is responsible for that cause "she couldn't help herself and had to touch chris Evans's chest) touched his chest without constent. Or kissing him without consent. One character who was hated because of misogyny was Sharon now I really don't care if people like her or not but only thing people criticise her for is her getting kissed by Steve(also idc about how he "turned out to be her uncle" because this bullshit started way before endgame). But most won't call that misogyny. Same goes for Wanda. She is mostly hated for misogynistic reasons but yet most people don't call it out. Carol I think gets called out more but still most is based on misogyny. God forbid Sylvie and Peggy get criticised though...

Ain't that the truth.

I vividly remember the only hater I've had to deal with on here last year claiming I was a misogynist for not liking Sylvie, they sent me a few messages defending all women but shit-talking Valkyrie. At that point I checked and they had been defending white women but not Val... kind of makes you think, doesn't it? 🤷

I never liked Peggy because she felt like a man's dream. She's perfect. She's not allowed a damn flaw, everything she does is supposedly right... I hate characters like that (which is why I love Wanda and Carol and Val and Nat and Yelena, they're all flawed and have done some shit but they don't hide it).

Also, the fact that people think that scene of her shooting at Steve is a feminist™ move drives me up the wall, especially when you compare that to how Steve handles it when he thinks Peggy and Howard are "foundeing": he only asks, looks a little hurt but he leaves it there. She acts like she owns him and she's the only one for him. Reverse the roles and people would be calling Steve all kinds of names (and they weren't even dating when that woman kissed him!).

I could write a million words about how much I don't like her so I'll just leave this post here that explains it all really well.

As for Sharon, I always liked her. She was great in TWS and CW: spying on Steve without him realizing it (that's not easy!), she stood up against Hydra and defended her coworkers, she passed info about Bucky and grabbed their suits for them... and yeah she got a kiss. So freaking what? I never understood why so many people got mad at that but the part that pisses me off is that from that point on anything and everything Sharon does doesn't matter because the only thing that defines her is that kiss. Then they turned her into a villain in TFATWS... sigh.

Now, about Wanda I gotta say I've read so much crap since the MoM trailer was released... I think people are justified in expressing the double standards in Marvel but I hate how the context of Westview is ignored, based on a lot of posts on here you'd think she kidnapped that town because she felt like hurting innocent people (never mind her state of mind at the time). I'm not sure those criticizing her do it out of misogyny, it could be that they just don't like her character, but it does surprise me the level of vitriol against her.

And I'm afraid most if not all of the hate Carol gets is from fanboys who hate Brie for being a wonderful out-spoken woman who's not afraid to speak her mind. That and being the first woman to get a movie for herself.

So yeah this got long enough, sorry about that 😅 I'll just add that misogyny is definitely a thing in fandom, and we need to call out those who talk shit about women, but we also have to differentiate between the fans who don't like a female character (and give reasons as to why they don't) and fans who don't like a female character because she's a woman.

And just one more thing: you don't need to defend all women to be a feminist. Feminism isn't about putting women above men and acting like we're all perfect, that shit is exactly what the patriarchy has been saying all this time. We're flawed, we want to be allowed to be flawed, and some of us are seriously fucked up. Calling that out is not anti-women and it will never be.

#anti peggy carter #fandom wank

[kindrednerdspirit]

S3 Debbie x Ruth

Snippet 2. Where were we? Ahh, yes, the bar.

Content warning: Mildly mature

Debbie misses this. This feeling of being completely seen by another person. That’s what Ruth has always given her–the safety to be herself. She has no problem being herself around Tex, but it’s not the same as being with Ruth. Sometimes a man can’t understand the experience of being a woman and that’s a loss. A loss of connection that means so much to Debbie, especially with the bullshit she puts up with everyday in this misogynistic business. 

Time goes by quickly. She complains about Tex, then brags about him, then updates Ruth on how much Ruth was right about keeping Randy around in a place that’s, ironically, so completely disastrous for his well-being.

Debbie wants to ask about Sam, but she’s afraid. So, she brushes the topic of Sam aside. She acts as though he’s ancient history and instead, asks about Russell who she knows for sure is ancient history.

“I don’t miss him.” Ruth says while staring into the bottom of her glass. “I just miss having someone care about me. Someone to call, someone checking in on me, saying nice things.”

Debbie raises one eyebrow. “Really? You don’t need some man for that.”

“Well? Am I supposed to rely on you?” Ruth is suddenly bristly. 

This is their relationship. Unbelievably hot and cold. Complicated. A disastrous mix of about a million contradictory emotions.

Debbie curls up her bottom lip, her jaw clenched tight. She deserves this, but of course, she cannot tell Ruth that she’s purposely been AWOL. Even so, she’s pissed that Ruth is angry at her–and for what? Having a fucking life? Being a mom? Enjoying a relationship where she’s not a huge fucking doormat? Angry tears prick in the corners of her eyes, because everything felt normal for half a second, and now she’s trying her best to hold it all in–the frustration, the hurt, the…whatever it is she feels for Ruth--for once in her goddamn life.

The silence grows between them, swallowing up the remnants of joy and leaving a bitterness. Ruth is blinking far too much, which is her signature move when she’s holding back tears. Her chocolate doe eyes fluttering like fucking crazy, driving Debbie insane.

“Sorry.” Ruth sighs and looks up at Debbie. “That wasn’t fair.”

As usual, Ruth apologizes first, softening Debbie.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Debbie says quietly, slowly turning to meet Ruth’s gaze. “I thought you… I thought you had Sam. And the girls. God knows everyone in the Show loves you.” 

And it’s true. Ruth is this infuriating combination of warm, friendly, approachable, and lovable. Everything Debbie is not. A smile spreads across Ruth’s lips and her eyes lift up a touch, which lifts Debbie’s heart and encourages her to make her friend laugh, again.

“Meanwhile, I’m the opposite. Unapproachable and… cold.” She peers over at Ruth when she says the word, “cold” and of course, Ruth is peering right back at her.

“Shutup, you fucking love it.”

And just like that they’re back to cracking up. 

Debbie both loves and hates that Ruth is so fucking exciting to her.

Their laughter putters out and Ruth, as usual, is not done being sincere. 

“I’ve just… missed you? After the camping trip, you met Tex and… it seemed like you were avoiding me. I mean, I haven’t even met him, yet, and it’s been months. Like, properly met him.”

Shit. Debbie is not prepared for this conversation. She’s so far from prepared that she’d be better off thinking of an exit plan, like setting something on fire. 

It’s like Mark all over again. She hid Ruth from Mark. Why? She cannot entirely recall, because it was complicated. Even now, she couldn’t accurately articulate all her feelings, but she knew she was worried Ruth would see something. Something wrong with Tex or their relationship or some fucking thing that Debbie missed. Because that was one of Ruth’s superpowers–she knew Debbie better than Debbie knew herself.

It was different with Tex, though, because she didn’t want kids with him. Unlike with Mark, she followed the expectation placed upon her and a million other women. Her decision could’ve been based off a shitty 1950s ad marketed to women to start a family. 

“Life not turning out the way you planned? Is your career quickly becoming a dumpster fire? Then start a family with the next dumbass that comes your way!”

And that’s exactly what she did. She found the dumbest of the dumbasses and, luckily, somehow created an absolutely beautiful human. But Ruth was there the whole time.. seeing right through Debbie’s family facade. The only person who wasn’t fooled.

Debbie summons her strength to carry on a conversation that should be so simple.

“You’re right. You should meet Tex.” She carefully maintains eye contact with Ruth and makes a conscious effort to slow her breathing.

“Great!” Ruth appears satisfied with this answer. “Hey, fuck, marry, or kill the guy behind you in the denim jacket.” 

And the night goes on.

……........

A few more rounds of shots and the girls are still playing the game.

Ruth answers “fuck” to an average height man with a moustache, which sets Debbie off.

“Well, I could’ve guessed that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruth is leaning on the bar with one elbow and looking at Debbie with an expression of mock hurt.

“It means…” Debbie pauses as she tries to unscramble her drunken thoughts. “That… there’s a pattern of you enjoying men with moustaches.”

“Okay, then. What’s your pattern?” Ruth is clearly not even going to argue this one.

“Mine is falling for men who don’t respect my work.” For a beat, both are silent. “Or me.” Debbie bursts out laughing. Ruth blinks, then quickly joins in, almost falling off her stool in the process. She reaches up to grab on to Debbie’s shoulder for support, so she can lift herself back up. Debbie is almost shocked at her heart flutter. All Ruth did was touch Debbie’s shoulder and it was electric. 

Fuuuck.

“So, the usual problem with men?” Asks Ruth, and the two continue cackling.

“How do other women do it?” Debbie asks in an exasperated tone, her head dramatically thrown back.

“Do what?” Ruth is grabbing some peanuts from the collective bowl.

“How do they… just accept that their boyfriends won’t understand all this girl stuff. Your partner is supposed to get you and men just don’t get women. Ya know?” She takes a few peanuts and munches.

The two munch and ponder the question. “I think that… you have to surround yourself with women to keep sane.”

This makes sense to Debbie, but she still doesn’t like Ruth’s answer. The more she thinks about it, the more she wonders why on earth she would want a male partner if a woman could fulfill her emotional needs better. Yes, men were hot, but so were women. Well, Ruth at least. Debbie doesn’t like where this thought is going, so she cuts off the conversation.

“Let’s dance.” Debbie downs her drink and grabs Ruth before she can protest.

There’s an exclamation of “Debbie!” followed by a reluctant, “Okay, okay. Geez.”

The duo, under Debbie’s lead, make their way to the dancefloor. “Hold Me” by Fleetwood Mac is playing. 

It comes on fast–the self-consciousness. Debbie is not the type to feel self-conscious, because people feel self-conscious in her presence, not the other way around. But Ruth has had this effect on her lately. 

She starts to overly focus on the proximity of her own body to Ruth’s. And of course, Ruth seems oblivious. Her arm casually bumping into Debbie’s, her hand grazing Debbie’s hip. The overthinking is enough to take away from the moment. Enough for Debbie to start considering an escape route for the second time tonight.

But then Ruth starts to shake her butt, moving it up and down as she edges closer and closer to Debbie. It’s so unbelievably ridiculous that she starts laughing all over again, matching her friend’s wackiness with a circular butt motion. And there they are–two white girls doing the Butt alone on a dancefloor.

The two continue their goofy dancing until “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner starts playing. Debbie turns toward the bar counter to order another drink, because this is not butt wiggling music, but is stopped mid-step when Ruth’s hand folds around her arm. She turns to look at Ruth.

“Uhm, are you okay?” Debbie asks.

But Ruth doesn’t answer. Not with words, at least. She just gently reaches for Debbie’s other arm and draws her in. There’s a moment of panic as Debbie’s face is so close to Ruth’s that she feels her breath tremble, so she finds herself placing her chin on Ruth’s shoulder, where it comfortably fits. And to her surprise, the electricity she feels running through her body transitions into more of a relaxed hum. Their bodies are pressed together rocking back and forth like two awkward middle-schoolers at a dance, which would normally make Debbie feel like an asshat, but it doesn’t.

Ruth has demanded things from Debbie before, but this is different. Her body language is gentle but confident, and while her arm literally pressed Debbie into her, Debbie knew Ruth was asking. And Debbie… well, she didn’t resist. It was kind-of hot to not be the one in charge for once. Her face is mushed into Ruth’s soft hair that smells like Finesse shampoo, while her arms are wrapped, albeit loosely, around Ruth’s back. She’s terrified of letting her arms drift lower.

Debbie wants to ask what they’re doing, because she’s pretty sure this isn’t what normal friends do, but she doesn’t want it to end whatever this is.

“This feels right.” Ruth murmurs into Debbie’s ear, sending a tingle down her neck.

The shortness of breath has come back, sending Debbie into unwanted territory. Everything is confusing, again. And yet, it isn’t, because she wants to stay in Ruth’s arms.

She is terrified of replying to Ruth, so she concentrates on their swaying and the music. She swallows, which feels so loud and vulnerable, as if she’s giving away the feelings she’s had since the camping trip. And maybe even longer, Debbie doesn’t fucking know anything anymore. 

Ruth pulls her head away to do her signature Ruth stare. Chestnut eyes peering into Debbie’s icy orbs, searching for meaning that Debbie isn’t orally providing. She feels naked and she hates it, so she parts her mouth, searching for words that can help her wield some control over this dangerous situation. But it’s too late.

They were at a precipice that Debbie sorely misjudged, because suddenly Ruth is acting on Debbie’s parted lips, pressing into her in a whole new way. She tastes like coconut rum, their mouths doing a delicious back-and-forth from tender to firm to soft that amounts to a hunger Debbie didn’t even know was there. The warmth returns between her legs, as a soft moan escapes from Ruth between the kissing. 

In her heart, she wants to go further, but they’re in some shitty Vegas bar. She’s worried that Ruth will not truly want this. Things could get weird between them and Debbie couldn’t bear that thought. The two of them had been through so much, they’d done weird before, but this was potentially friendship shattering on a whole new scale.

The lights flicker a few times, but it doesn’t matter, because Debbie has involuntarily let out a quiet groan. It turns her on more, because it feels like her desire is a secret only Ruth knows. And that’s the breaking point. The point where Debbie says, “Fuck off, brain,” and gives everything over to her body, which is now picking Ruth up off the dancefloor, so she can hoist her onto something.

Carrying Ruth is familiar and comfortable, easy even, because of the wrestling, but a whole new intimacy is being explored. She accidentally drops Ruth harder than she means to on a table. A flurry of “sorries” are hurriedly said before Debbie finds herself not only on top of Ruth, but aggressively pinning down her arms.

“HEY! Can’t you see the lights flickering? We’re closing, so take the fucking elsewhere.” 

The sound of the bartender’s voice, the word “fucking” in particular, sends the girls flying apart from one another like shrapnel.

The bartender is shaking his head, roughly wiping down the counter. Debbie and Ruth are frozen standing 6 feet apart. “Any time tonight.” He adds sarcastically. “Jesus Christ.”

The girls grab their purses and scurry out, to which Debbie is grateful for the few moments to gather herself. They’re standing outside the bar doors in the hotel lobby looking anywhere but each other.

“I have to go.” Debbie blurts.

“Wait–” Ruth’s fingers graze Debbie’s arm, causing Debbie to whip around.

“Don’t.” She snaps before walking away. She hates how Ruth’s eyes look when she says it, how they get bigger before dropping toward the floor.

#netflix glow #debbie x ruth #debbie and ruth #debbie eagan #ruth wilder #glow fanfiction #ugh i miss this show so much

[seancekitsch]

Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?  

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood.  He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't.  It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight. 

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you. 

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat.  He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks. 

#marko lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #my work

[aggressive-positivity-network]

trans women don't get hurt when they use the men's room. go google the stats if you don't believe me. but cis women DO get regularly sexually attacked by trans women. over 50% of trans women in uk prisons are there because of sexual crime. putting trans women into female spaces is guaranteeing female victims. why do you so nonchalantly accept females being victimised in your pursuit of stopping males being victimised by other males?

it sounds like misogyny to me tbh. women don't exist to be raped or to be exposed to rape just so trans women can feel validated. i wish you rightwing weirdos would just admit you hate women and go. i don't understand what you get out of pretending to be progressive when you hold such virulent misogynistic views. go back to fox news where you belong.

Ah! Yes! I’ve always wanted to talk about this.

Okay. Imagine there are two fruit trucks, delivering all sorts of yummy fruit to grocery stores, stands, and restaurants. Let’s call them Truck A and Truck B.

Truck A is from a huge company, where thousands of trucks are sent out every day. Not only do they have bigger trucks, but more fruit to distribute. Cool! Nothing wrong with that. Everyone loves fruit, after all.

Truck B is from a much smaller branch of the company, and their reach is more local. They probably only have a hundred trucks out at one time. They also have smaller trucks, and less fruit in each one. Also cool! Either way, people get their fruit!

Truck A has about a thousand pieces of fruit in his truck, and Truck B has a hundred and fifty pieces of fruit. Round numbers tend to make math a little easier.

However, as fruit tends to do, it spoils. Maybe it was spoiled from the beginning from a bad tree, or maybe the conditions it was in made it rot. I mean, that sucks, but there will still be plenty of good fruit to go around, right?

Now, let’s imagine that the same amount of fruit in each truck spoils - they get moldy, or rot, or smashed in transit. About fifty pieces of fruit from each truck meet an untimely demise. Bananas split from this earthly coil, if you will.

Every year, there’s an inspection, which measures productivity, safety, and, you guessed it, the amount of fruit getting to each place. Luckily, both of the drivers document their cases of bad fruit. Both are very diligent, and very truthful. The numbers they recorded are correct: one hundred and fifty bad fruit.

The inspector looks over the numbers, does the math, and goes on his merry way.

A few weeks later, a meeting is called for Truck B’s driver and his fellow associates. The inspector that came those weeks ago was sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m sorry to say this,” they said, “but I’m going to have to shut down your department.”

There was an outcry - that would be thousands of people losing their jobs! What could possibly be the reason for shutting down an entire department?!

The inspector put up their hand. “After comparing you to the whole of the company, and all of your fellow departments, I can say with absolute certainty that your department does the worst when transporting fruit. For example, Truck A’s department only had 0.05% of fruit going bad. Truck B, however, had a whopping 34%! You have some of the worst drivers of the whole company!”

There was another roar of incredulous workers. But one, the manager of the department, stood up and put their hands on the table.

“We have much smaller trucks and way fewer fruit!” the manager said, frustrated. “Of course the percentages will be higher! We’ve been asking for bigger trucks for years, and still hasn’t gone through. And now you’re going to just get rid of the department?!”

The inspector shrugged.

“I’m sorry, but the numbers don’t lie. Your department has to go. You can’t have that much moldy fruit in the garage - or you’ll cause the other fruit to rot too!”

The drivers kept pleading with the inspector, begging to not be fired like that on the spot, or at least be moved to another department - but they wouldn’t budge.

Dejected, Driver B and everyone else went home. The whole department was shut down a few days later.

But Driver A’s department only gets congratulated and go about their business as usual.

And that, my friends, is why a lot of the estimates, data, and percentages you see are bullshit. It may be true, but it doesn’t show the entire picture - and that can have big consequences, especially when you’re talking about a person’s livelihood.

Also, as gentle asides, Google should not be your only stop on your data seeking journey. It will give you any information you want to find - even if it isn’t accurate. And if you do find information, make sure to check it out before accepting it as fact.

And the way you used “validated” in a negative connotation makes it sound like we as humans don’t need it, and it’s a silly thing to want and desire. But it’s actually really important, especially when it comes to identity! Imagine not feeling accepted by anyone, or that people automatically thought you would hurt people just because of something that you couldn’t change. That would really suck. Is that why you are being so nasty to me and trans people? Because the radfem/TERF community is the one that found you first, and now you have undying loyalty to them despite the fact that their ideology is extremely hurtful?

Maybe you’re afraid no one else will accept you. But they will! You are never too far gone - if you are willing to change.

#send asks #send anons #trans pride #transgender #tw radfem #radfems dni #cw terfs #anti terfs #terfs aren't feminists #terf mention #tw terf #hate anon

[shiveringpinkala]

Paid for in collaboration with: The Easy Company Cares Foundation, Marines Mean Business and Fandom For Freedom.

Other Random Headcanons for this Political Verse:

Johnny Martin is Chief Justice of the Supreme Court b/c he will judge the hell out of you and not give your cases the time of day. No, seriously. Get that racist, homophobic, misogynist bullshit out of here.

Nix is a Senator from a long-line of Senators from New Jersey, except his father was a Republican and he said fuck that, and went Democrat and there’s been a rift ever since. He met Dick in the Senate and they became a powerhouse couple. He’s on the Senate Intelligence Committee now he’s the First Husband or whatever he’d be called. 

Ron’s part of the Department of Defense, but like, one of the sane members and he’s always disagreeing with and doesn’t get along with his fellow Generals. Single-handedly got Don’t Ask-Don’t Tell overturned. 

Harry’s the other Senator from Pennsylvania, but now that Dick’s President, he’s the senior Senator. Woman adore him because of his unapologetic love for his wife. Always introduces LGBTQ+ friendly legislature to the forefront (because he’s a great ally) and big on affordable education for everyone.

Luz is the White House Press Secretary. Everyone loves him. He’s out here making sure you’re having a good time and getting relevant, factual information.

Lip’s the Chief of Staff who everyone thinks is a cinnamon roll and will straight out gut you if you don’t get your shit together and do right by the American people.

Malarkey, Skip and Penkala are a gaggle of journalists that always show up to ask questions, write marvelous opinion pieces, scathing law reviews and generally be amusing, lovable, pains in the ass of every politician on Capitol Hill.

Web and Lieb are speech writers. It’s always WWIII in their office, but their speeches are a thing of beauty. 

On the Marine Side - Eddie’s a Unicorn: an openly gay Southern Senator that actually wins his elections. Head of the Agriculture, Nutrition and Forestry Committee and member of the Investigations Subcommittee, met Andy in office and the rest is history.

Sledge is a junior Representative who Eddie and Andy take under their wings. Eventually becomes friends with Burgie (D-TX), Jay (D-CA) and Bill (D-NY) Very passionate about everything.

Leckie’s a Senator who has Opinions and is not afraid to voice them. Liberal and doesn’t give a fuck. Hoosier’s a reporter who is unfairly amused by this verbose idiot (Leckie’s kind of jealous that Hoosier gets to write for a living) and then realizes - to his horror - that he actually believes Leckie will change the world and finds all that indignation charming.

Snafu’s a jaded Representative (D-LA) and has basically only one fuck left to give until this doe-eyed Alabama guy shows up to heal his cracked heart with the power of love. And justice.

#i made a thing #based on something that came to me as i was replying to comments #obviously all the sponsors are not real #but i figure i need to say it anyway #band of brothers #the pacific #modern day political verse #headcanons #bob headcanons #the pacific headcanons #winnix #andyeddie #sledgefu #loosier

[stonerbughead]

love in the time of coronavirus ch 5 preview

because it’s coming slow, but i think we all need a little bit of this jarchie energy in our lives rn. 

“I promised Kevin I would call on day 10 and ask you two a question.”

“Oh, yeah, and what’s that?” Betty asks challengingly, the very mention of Kevin making her eyes narrow. Jughead grimaces; thinking of Cheryl’s knowing look the other night, he squeezes Betty’s shoulder. 

“Well, based on the sounds I heard when you answered this call-” Betty buries her head even further into Jughead’s chest. “-I feel like I already know the answer. But Kevin insisted I ask: have you two fucked already or what?” Archie says. 

Betty grabs Jughead’s phone out of his hand and aims it at the both of them. Jughead blushes: it’s truly something to see, a flushed Betty, wearing his t-shirt while very clearly straddling Jughead’s body. “What do you think?” she says sharply, rolling her eyes when both Jughead and Archie’s faces look back at her with complete surprise. “What?” she barks.

Archie whistles lowly. “Betty Cooper,” he says proudly. “Finally. Kevin will be very happy to hear the news.”

Jughead shakes his head. “If all of you thought it was this obvious that me and Betty liked each other, why wouldn’t you be your usual meddling selves and try to get us together? Because apparently we were the last to know.”

“Yeah!” Betty says, running her hand through Jughead’s hair instinctually. “We come to find out we’ve both been literally pining for each other for years. And you, our very best friend, just let us!”

Archie shrugs, though he looks sheepish. “It’s better this way,” is all he says.

“Well,” Jughead says. “We weren’t sure when we were gonna tell you but I guess you know now. We’re together.”

Archie claps his hands together and something inside Jughead collapses in relief. “The only good news I’ve heard all week.”

Betty shakes her head, removing herself from Jughead’s lap. “Thanks, Arch. But uh...nature calls.”

Jughead watches her go, waiting until the bathroom door closes behind her to face his best friend again. “You really knew this whole time?” he asks.

“Pretty much,” Archie says, shrugging. He’s relaxed back on his couch now, angling the camera so the light pours in his window and backlights him. “I mean, you’re both my best friends and neither of you are like, serial monogamists. You’ve both only really liked a handful of people, ever. It’s not hard for me to tell what it looks like when it’s…”

“Real?”

Archie nods. “Exactly, man.”

“This is the only time,” Jughead says. “The only time it’s ever felt real. With anyone.” The words come tumbling out and suddenly Jughead is weirdly grateful that Archie called when he did, if only to force him to say the words he was far too scared to say. 

“I’m so happy for you, Jug,” Archie says, in that genuine way that makes Jughead’s heart hurt it’s so reminiscent of the late Fred Andrews. “I’m not surprised, though,” he adds. “You two are so perfect for each other. I knew if you finally got the timing right, you’d be something special together.”

It might be one of the most beautiful sentences he’s ever heard come out of his best friend’s mouth and Jughead would stop to revel in it if he didn’t have one more thing to ask before Betty emerges from the bathroom. “Hey, Arch,” he says quickly and Archie seems to note his urgency. 

“Yeah?” he says.

“Why did you never...really tell me how you and Betty first met?”

Archie grimaces, looking a little embarrassed. “She told you the full story, huh? Get you two alone together for ten days and all the secrets come out.”

Jughead looks at Archie pleadingly through the screen. “Arch.”

“I could see the way you looked at her almost right away, Jug,” Archie says. “I’ve never seen anyone look at Betty like that. And I’ve certainly never seen you look at anyone like that. I just...I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think that for even a second I’d had any romantic interest in Betty - because, really, that’s all it was, a single drunk second before she put me in my place. Showing me why she was the most badass girl I’d met all night, but that we were much better off as friends.”

Jughead nods, taking in the information with a neutral expression on his face. “You thought I would be upset if I knew you’d hit on her once?” 

Archie shrugs. “Not necessarily upset, Jug. But think about you three years ago when you first moved here. You weren’t nearly as confident as you are now. I didn’t want you to think—I don’t know—that I was your competitor or something.”

“Archie, that’s misogynistic bullshit.”

“I know. I know it is. But that’s why I didn’t want you to think…”

Jughead shakes his head. “I get it,” he says. “I mean, you’re right. I totally would’ve short-circuited...at least a little bit, if I’d heard that shit three years ago.”

Archie shrugs. “It’s not that I thought you couldn’t handle it. It’s that I was afraid you’d use any excuse not to act on your feelings. And I didn’t want to give you another one,” Archie says. “Whether or not it was right, I’m glad you guys found your way to each other in the end. Even if it was…”

“Under the weirdest circumstances ever?” Betty says from where she’s—apparently—standing behind the couch, startling both Jughead and Archie.

“You’re sneaky,” Jughead says flirtatiously, turning to grin at her. She smiles back, patting the couch as she settles down. Jughead notices she’s slipped leggings on, though she’s still wearing his soft blue S t-shirt. He repositions himself next to her on the couch, propping his phone up on the coffee table so the camera is aimed at them once again. 

“How much did you hear?” Archie asks.

Betty shrugs. “Not everything. Don’t worry, some of your bromantic secrets are safe.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jughead says, jokingly holding a hand over his heart. 

“Anyway,” Archie says. “Have you two watched Tiger King yet?”

(thx for being patient with me, y’all! my tumblr break continues but ima drop in when i have new work to post! love you all! im still on the discord server if you wanna chat!!!!) read from the beginning / moodboard by @literatiruinedme​

#bughead fanfiction #love in the time of coronavirus #bughead #omg they were quarantined #jarchie #mine

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.6

Summary: Rose spends an idyllic holiday season with the guys before tragedy strikes, threatening to disrupt the timeline that Rose is trying so hard to keep on course.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re in full swing relationship mode now and I just adore the whole “stucky x reader” set up. Prepare yourself for sweet fluff and a pinch of angst before even sweeter fluff. Because ya’ll should know by now that’s my jam lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Six

Dating the guys turns out to be very similar to what you had been doing up until that point. They come over every other day, sometimes every day if your schedules align. In public Steve is your boyfriend and you happily chit chat with the girls at the office who all are curious about how smitten you are with the tiny, shy, artist. There’s always that ache in your chest though, when you want to share something about Bucky but can’t. He’s your boyfriend’s best friend and while you can tell the occasional story about the three of you hanging out, there’s so much you can’t share. The truth is, Bucky is actually the sweeter of the two. He’s desperately affectionate and tactile with you and Steve. While Steve will spend an afternoon drawing something in his sketch pad, Bucky isn’t happy unless he’s tangled around you like an octopus. You indulge him often, surprised by how easy it is to be close with him. Steve jokes that it’s nice having someone else for Bucky to throw himself on for a change. Not that Steve isn’t affectionate, but he’s more like a cat; coming to you in infrequent bursts when the mood strikes him. 

The holidays come and go quietly. Bucky and Steve head up to visit Bucky’s family for a few days and you stay home eagerly awaiting their return. You made them promise not to get anything but they both show up on your doorstep with gifts in hand when they get back. Steve gives you a sketch of the three of you sprawled out on the sofa together. It’s beautifully done and you promise to keep it on your bedside table. Bucky gives you a pair of the thick woolly socks you steal from him whenever you spend time at their place. They’re your favorite and you’re touched knowing he put a lot of thought into your gift. You grumble about them spending money on you but they ignore it, doing the same when they unwrap their packages. 

You had wanted to get them things they wouldn’t have bought for themselves. Steve has to stop halfway through thanking you for his new art supplies, choking up with emotion until he finally just pulls you in his arms for a hug that lasts for what feels like forever. Bucky actually is rendered speechless by his coat and gloves. He showers you with kisses when his brain finally catches up and you know he’s appreciative of the gift. He had gone without a new coat for a few years now, his getting more worn and threadbare each season. Bucky always claimed getting a warm coat for Steve was the priority, letting his own wait even when it really couldn’t. The gloves were likewise necessary. His hands were always chapped from the bitter cold and dampness down at the docks and they couldn’t afford good leather gloves that would keep his hands dry. 

The three of you spend the whole weekend in your apartment, snuggled safely away from the world. The guys are both gentlemen through and through, volunteering to take the sofa and the floor to sleep on. You know girls aren’t supposed to be so free in the ‘40s but you can’t possibly let them sleep uncomfortably when you have a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. Bucky caves first, pointing out that Steve has enough health problems without him sleeping badly and aggravating his back. You lead them both down the hall to your bed where they slip in next to you like they belong there. Bucky claims the middle, the prime cuddling spot, or so he claims, leaving you and Steve to trade amused grins over him. 

New Years Eve and Day are spent at their apartment, Steve claiming it’s only fair since they celebrated Christmas at yours. He cooks up a small hunk of corned beef, simmering it slowly all day with cabbage, potatoes, and other root vegetables he was able to get on sale. It’s quite different than the pork and sauerkraut you’re used to but you go along with their traditions without complaint. You sit around dreaming up plans for 1942 together, places to go and things to do. Bucky mentions the rink at Rockefeller center, everyone has been talking about it since it opened a few years ago and it’s supposed to be quite an experience. Steve agrees it would be a good time and tells Bucky they should start saving now so they can take you before spring comes. You shake your head, “Why wait?” you ask them, “It’s probably still decorated from Christmas. What better time to go than when it’s at it’s best? We can go tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, a tight smile on his face. “We’re just dreamin’, doll. As much as we want to take you, that place is for those fancy Manhattan folks. Last I heard, it was a dollar a skate and then we have the subway cost to get there and back.” 

“So I’ll pay for it, I don’t care. I want to take you two out and do something fun. Start the new year off right.” 

The pinched look on Steve’s face deepens, “We don’t need your charity…”

“My what!?” you bark at him. Bucky has inched back, wisely staying out of the escalating argument. He has enough sisters to know that Steve is not winning this one. 

“I know this isn’t the most traditional relationship but you gotta let us take care of you, doll. Like a man should.”

“Steven. Grant. Rogers.” you grit out in outrage, “If I want to take you out I damn well will. Don’t start with that antiquated, patriarchal, misogynistic bullshit!” 

Steve flushes, his cheeks burning brightly, and he stands up from his seat on the sofa to storm off to his bedroom where he slams the door behind him. 

Bucky shoots you a raised eyebrow, making sure he isn’t in trouble by association. You shake your head and sit back heavily, worried you ruined New Years Day. 

“He’ll be okay, just give him a minute to calm down.” Buck assures you, “You and I both know Stevie supports the women’s rights movement but it’s still a hard habit to break, wanting to take care of our best gal.” 

You climb into Bucky’s arms, wanting the comfort it brings you, “I’m sorry for ruining the holiday.”

“You didn’t ruin a thing. Just give him a few more minutes and then go talk to him. You have to understand, we didn’t grow up with money. I know you did so it’s not something you worry about, but that’s hard for us to adjust to.” 

You snuggle in against him, letting the minutes slip by until you can go to Steve and make things right. 

When you do finally go to him, Steve is staring out the window, brow furrowed under the weight of his thoughts. You apologize, and so does he. You both know your hearts were in the right place even if it doesn’t always come out that way. 

The next day you take your guys ice skating at Rockefeller Center just like you had wanted to. They insist on buying lunch and you let them, a quiet compromise to keep everyone happy. You skate for hours until your legs are weak and your fingertips and noses are frozen from the cold. Bucky fusses over both of you the whole way home, worried you’ll catch your death. It was the best day you can remember having in years, and one you’ll cherish the memory of forever. It was also the last good day you had together before it all went to hell. 

xxXxx

Bucky’s concern over Steve or you getting sick turns out to be legitimate. Two days after your trip Steve is coughing deep and rough, his asthmatic lungs not faring well against the illness he’s caught. By the third day he’s in bed with a fever that climbs faster than the medicine can work. Bucky can’t take the time off work, not if he wants to keep a roof over their heads, and so you call out from the SSR office, letting them know your boyfriend is not well. 

Seeing Steve suffering is a new level of hell. He’s sweaty from the fever, shaking from chills, and the cough in his chest could wake the dead. It’s amazing his body doesn’t just shatter apart from the force of it. You stay by his side, giving him sips of warm broth and tea when he can manage and reading to him from his favorite books. After a week he looks like a skeleton, shrunken on himself and devoid of the liveliness he normally radiates with. Bucky calls the doctor then, scared of the cost but more afraid of losing the love of his life. 

You can’t help but blame yourself. You knew Steve was prone to getting sick but you had pushed to go skating with them. It was selfish, so selfish, and now Steve was paying the price. Bucky tries to soothe your fears and guilt, reminding you Steve caught pneumonia just by stepping outside most years. You put on your bravest face and smile so Bucky will have one less thing to worry about, but it doesn’t alleviate your guilt in the least. There’s also the undercurrent of fear that you’ve messed up the timelines now and ruined everything. He has to pull through. He has to, so he can go be Captain America and save the world, you tell yourself.

Bucky won’t let you pay for the doctor who comes or the medicine he prescribes. You argue over it briefly but Bucky insists he saves for things like this and they’ll be fine. Steve comes out of it a few days later, the new medicine doing its job at last. 

“Hey,” Steve croaks, his voice rough from disuse. 

Your eyes fly up from the book you’re reading to meet bright blue eyes that are focusing on you for the first time in ten days. “Steve.” you squeak out through the tightness in your throat. You can’t contain your relief. “Oh honey, I thought we were gonna lose you.” you sob.

Steve reaches out with a painfully thin hand, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“God, I was so scared.” 

“Come on, get in here with me if you can stand the smell.” he jokes weakly.

You carefully climb into bed with him, pulling him close until you’re lying flush against one another. You stroke the sweat sticky hair from his face, running your fingers over the sharp bones of his cheeks. Steve is too worn out to protest as you sprinkle kisses across his face. 

“If this is the treatment for whatever I had, sign me up for another round.” 

You frown at him fiercely. “Don’t even joke. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.” 

“I’ve done nothing else for ten days. I can’t lose you, I love you.” Tears are still falling from your eyes but you catch the change in Steve’s expression. You hadn’t even realized you said I love you out loud, having repeated it so often in your head while at his bedside that it feels natural now. 

“You love me, huh?” his eyes shine with amazement, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” you admit, not wanting to take it back now that the truth is out. 

“I love you too, Rose. Does Bucky know yet?”

“I haven’t said it to him yet. I will though, tonight.” 

“Make sure I’m there when you do. I’m sure he’ll react much better than when I said it to him the first time.” he huffs out a weak laugh and you reach back to get him a cup of tea from the side table. Steve sips slowly, letting his body adjust. “Do you wanna guess what that jerk said to me when I told him I was in love with him?” 

“I can’t even imagine.” 

“I was fifteen and he was sixteen. It was summer and we were flush after he got his first paycheck from helping sweep up at the docks where his dad worked. We spent the day at Coney Island eating hot dogs and riding the ferris wheel until they kicked us off. We were sitting down on the beach watching the waves as the moon came up, everyone else had left by then, and I realized it was the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked over at him and said ‘I love you, Buck’ to which the idiot said ‘love you too, pal.” easy as could be. So I told him ‘I’m in love with you.” and the great buffoon shoved at me and said “You do not!”. So then I shoved at him back and we ended up rolling around scrapping on the beach until finally, one of us let up. It wasn’t until we’d gotten home to my place that said he was in love with me too.” 

“That’s terrible and wonderful. I love it.” you tell him. 

“I never thought we’d find someone like you. I can’t believe I got this lucky twice.” 

You blush at his words, unable to believe his love for you could be even remotely close to his feelings for Bucky. 

“What time is it?” Steve asks squinting at the clock.

“Quarter after four.” you reach to the nightstand for his glasses so he can see for himself too.

“I hate to ask this of you, but could you help me to the bathroom? I could really use a shower.” 

“Honey, it’s okay. Bucky and I have been taking turns caring for you so it’s no big deal.” 

“Great. Not exactly the first impression I’d like to leave when you see me naked the first time.” 

“Hey, don’t be like that.” you scold him as you let him support himself on you to stand, “If you think for one minute I’m going to see something I don’t like when I look at you, you’re crazy.” 

Steve grumbles but decides he wants to be clean more than he wants to act tough. You half help, half carry Steve into the bathtub, setting him down carefully inside it while you get the water nice and warm. He tries to wash himself but his arms are shaking after a minute and you take over washing his hair for him, getting it nice and clean for the first time in over a week. The bath exhausts Steve and he naps while you make dinner, barely keeping his eyes open to dry off.

Bucky is ecstatic when you tell him Steve was awake and talking earlier. He barely stops to give you a kiss before he’s barging into the bedroom to see Steve. You join them a little while later, eating dinner in bed on trays so that Steve can rest but still be included. He’s sleeping again before he even finishes his soup, his tray whisked away to let him rest peacefully between you and Bucky. You talk quietly over him, catching up on your days and sharing in your relief that he’s finally improved. 

“Thank you for helping me care for him. It got really bad this time. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” Bucky says again, grateful for all your help over the past week.

“It was no problem. I love him, of course I wanted to take care of him when he’s sick.”

Bucky looks over, surprised. “You love him, huh?”

“I do.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s easy to love.” Bucky looks down at Steve with such sweetness it’s hard for you not to jump over Steve and kiss him.

“Hey Buck.” you catch his attention again.

“Hmm?” he finally looks over at you.

“I love you too.” 

Bucky smiles wide and warm like the sun. “You do, huh?”

“Yep.” you chew on your lip, waiting for his next move.

“It’s a good thing then. ‘Cause I love you too.” Bucky gets up, coming around to your side of the bed where he can pull you up into his arms. 

“I love you.” you whisper between kisses.

“I love you, so much doll.” he replies, burying his face into the curve of your neck. 

“Ah shit. Steve wanted to be awake for that.” you groan.

“What? Why?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

“He wanted to make sure you didn’t shove me after I said it.” 

“Oh no, he told you the story!” Bucky is cringing, embarrassed by the memory. 

“It’s sweet.” you assure him. 

Bucky starts trailing kisses up your throat again and you sink into his embrace, letting yourself enjoy the contact after a week of tense worry. 

Steve really will be okay, you’re sure of that now. The timeline is intact despite all of your involvement in their lives and you just have to get through the next four months without disrupting anything else. Though how you are going to walk away from the two of them is getting more and more complicated.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz​

#one in a million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #named reader #captain america #stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #time travel #1940s setting #marvel #marvel fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader

[userpoe]

ever since my first watch of the sequel trilogy, i've been a whore for commander dameron as we know. and i've searched a shit ton of videos on youtube with his scenes and shit, and there was this video that never sat well with me. i never watched it but the title had poe and holdo and misogyny. and don't get me wrong, misogynists can fuck off, but poe wasn't being one of them when he want against holdo. and the way they made her a martyr at the end like she's some sort of hero pisses me off — ✨

buddy i know we’ve already agreed we’re soulmates, but man. we are soulmates. i agree with everything you just said. i’m gonna put this in a read more, because...well i’m me and this is gonna be long, and i don’t want to clog up anyone’s dashboard if they happen to be fans of you know whomst.

you know that “did x effectively utilize girl power” meme that’s been going around? that’s fucking holdo in my opinion, like oh my gosh. I have never understood the idea that Poe was misogynistic, and it annoys me to no end that THREE WHOPPING YEARS LATER it’s still apparently a popular opinion????? fellas [wild hand motions] how??????? 

(I’ve also seen people call Poe an example of ‘toxic masculinity’ and I’m just. Yes, the man who sews up the jacket in between an evacuation to give to his crush friend and politely introduces himself to Rey and also, yknow, flips his shit when his droid is damaged is a fantastic example of toxic masculinity, I have to laugh /s).

Poe’s actions are not the ones of a “sexist who doesn’t respect women”, they are the actions of someone who is highly and recently traumatized, faced with the VERY REAL threat of losing everything he has left, and the possibility that the person put in charge might actively be trying to tear down everything Leia has fought to build. The Resistance is not the Rebellion, the Resistance is 400 people and a handful of squadrons - that’s it. They didn’t have any support, they’re now actively fleeing for their lives, and now there’s someone in charge who seems plenty happy sacrificing most of their fleet, isn’t offering any hope to anyone, and refuses to trust people with her plan - yeah, I can see how Poe would be thrown and upset, yknow? 

I just cannot narratively read tlj in a way that paints Holdo in a good light, or paints her in the “right”, believe me, I have tried. I have tried to like her, but I just can’t. I’ve tried to understand her, and I can’t. Not really. And honestly, the more I explore the film, the more I inspect, the more I think I’m not supposed to?

I already shared an snippet from the tlj novelization, but like. if you thought the film was bad, she is horrible in the novelization. it seems like her favorite past-time is belittling Poe at any chance she can get, even when he hasn’t done anything. He follows her orders and aides in the evacuation of the medical frigate, doesn’t so much put a toe out of line, and she still grounds him inexplicably from aiding in any other evacuations and also bans him from the bridge? The book constantly shows us what the film doesn’t really get a chance to explore: how dire things are on the Raddus. The Resistance is losing hope, more and more people are giving up, and Poe spends most of his scenes trying to boost morale until, finally, when the last support ship goes up, he finally confronts Holdo.

I know some people have said Holdo is “warm and maternal” but I just. cannot see her in that way? I’ve seen Laura Dern play warm and maternal before, but Holdo does not come across that way at all to me. She makes me extremely uncomfortable, the way she’s constantly encroaching on people’s personal space (particularly Poe’s, in their first scene together? It makes my stomach churn). Especially the sequence when Poe’s unconscious and she cups his cheek?? like?? no get away from him do NOT touch him that’s creepy as all hell to me, I feel like hissing like a cat every time it happens like. no??????

I’ve genuinely started calling her “Purple Haired Tarkin” because she reminds me so much of him (and also because he’s the only other character in sw I dislike this much). I’ve actually made a parallel gif of them before, because I noticed how similar the framing is between Poe and her’s conversation with Leia and Tarkin’s on the Death Star.

And honestly, I’m gonna rag on her leadership abilities here for a second. I would like to point something out for a second: in tfa, when the Resistance is working out a strategy against Starkiller, everyone is present including Kaydel, who hasn’t even been made a lieutenant yet. Leia welcomes everyone in, trusts the people who work under her, which inspires trust in her.

Holdo doesn’t do that. You could make an argument that she didn’t trust Poe because of his recent demotion, however, Holdo doesn’t trust anyone except maybe one?? person??? with her plan??? out of the whole Resistance staff? Not to mention the fact that she seems to dismiss almost everyone? The way she calls Poe flyboy drives me up a goshdang wall, but also the way she reacts to Poe telling her about what Finn and Rose are up to “an ex-stormtrooper and a who now?” according to the wookieepedia, she brought...Rose...aboard the Raddus. and can’t be bothered to remember her name? And she doesn’t even consider Finn anything beyond “ex-stormtrooper” despite the fact that he, yknow, helped topple Starkiller and almost died fighting Kylo Ren.

Not to get on my rogue one bullshit, but trust has to go both ways!! rebellions are built on HOPE, Holdo wasn’t nurturing either of those things. In fact she was making things worse: in the novelization, Rose notes there’s rumors going around that Leia has died or that they’re planning a surrender to the First Order, which heavily implies Holdo didn’t even inform people that Leia had survived - Leia, who is constantly heralded as the Resistance’s main source of hope. And she’d ordered the techs to...tase and restrain people who tried to escape?????????????

And I also noticed the last time that I was skimming through TLJ that when Poe confronts her on the bridge finally, Kaydel is nowhere to be found, despite being there the last scene we had on it, where she questions Holdo on what her plan is, which makes me think that she might have banned Kaydel too??? from the bridge??? since Kaydel should be there working as a comms officer???

I’m cutting myself off here but this....isn’t even half of the reasons I dislike her so much. I go into more (coherent) detail in it, in that Kaydel fic I teased earlier but I’m still afraid to post it jatoajtoajtaota

#ask box #stardust #how many tags do we skip now #to avoid #them actually going into #tags #because i don't want #this to show up in tags #but i want people to be able to blacklist it #hhhhh #anti amilyn holdo

[redandfranticfeelings]

My friend is getting really into Homestuck, and I'm tempted to grab your critical posts about it and show it to her But I want to legit know your so critical of HS, but you enjoy SP, when it's probably worst?

i mean if your friend is getting into homestuck, then let her enjoy it? she’ll probably discover the flaws in her own time, just make sure she doesn’t give credit where it isn’t due or that the comic doesn’t trigger her or anything. i think it’s silly to constantly remind people that their interests are problematic (i may have believed this when i was like 15 but i’ve grown past it), you should give them the chance to be informed but also give them the benefit of the doubt, unless it’s, like, literally propaganda.

as for the difference...a lot of it boils down to personal taste and my relationship with the fandom. and this got....long.

i believe south park is the worst fandom i’ve been a part of, both on and off tumblr, but it has a good subsection of people who are quite critical of the show, and enjoy it in the way i do: understanding why it became popular while also constantly pointing out the key failings in its satire. most people in my personal fandom circle know south park’s infamy and make it clear they don’t stand by it; i’ve gotten a people on my ass for calling out the show’s transphobic messages and such, but it feels good to watch the show just to pinpoint why it has such a bad impact. the show is also a simple enough premise to redo in fanfiction, and i have a lot of fun taking these characters out of their environment and finding the unearthed potential while the writers just continuously show they don’t give a shit.

homestuck is probably better, at least in terms of intentions, but i have issues with the way fandom interacts with the comic. a lot of them brush the problematic jokes in the early comic under the rug, or praise hussie for his modern inclusiveness as if he didn’t make incest canon less than two years ago. every single fan seems to defend characters who do shitty things while chastising other characters for doing shitty things- there’s people who chastise eridan but sweep vriska’s ableism and sexual abuse under the rug, people who chastise vriska but sweep eridan’s genocide under the rug, etc. vriscourse is really what pushed me out of the fandom because one of my biggest pet peeves is when a complex female character gets her character twisted so you can’t criticize anything she ever does or you’re misogynistic, even if you do like her character and accept her flaws are what make her interesting, and the homestuck fanbase really started crossing lines for me by trying to recontexualize vriska’s abuse victims into the bad guys (saying tavros was a chaser based on flimsy evidence from when vriska wasn’t confirmed trans yet, etc).

also generally i hate the new loose way they do canon, especially in the context of LGBT canon, because if you have to argue about the canon then it’s cowardly IMO, even if i do appreciate the new representation like with roxy i fucking hate that it only cropped up once hussie and company decided canon no longer mattered. fandom has been praising hussie for poor representation since that agonizing meenah/vriska bullshit (which was unhealthy and fetishized by in-comic hussie but he praised it as ‘better than korrasami’ which reeked of wanting brownie points to me). and if more people could enjoy the comic critically then maybe i’d still be into it but i’m constantly afraid of being dogpiled by not just the fans, but the writers themselves who are former fans with very strong opinions and have their own controversies behind them. plus i could never truly follow the plot and it got even worse with the epilogues, especially when characters i liked kept getting sidelined constantly which especially stung with jade’s deliberately-bad characterization in the candy storyline. some people might enjoy that but for me it makes everything harder to follow, and doesn’t inspire me to rework it anymore because i just associate the comic with ship wars and fandom wars and biphobia and misogyny and ableism and just. frustration overall.

south park constantly frustrates me, no shit, but i expect that from the show. it doesn’t take itself seriously anymore, and i understand that, which makes it more rewarding to take it seriously and remind people of the impact it has. and i enjoy my selective fandom because it calls out the bullshit and makes it better. and i know not to take shit from the people who get mad at me, because they’re a bunch of anti-sjws who aren’t arguing in good faith. it’s fun to feel like i’m taking this show back from the assholes it’s meant for.

homestuck frustrates me because it could be better. it takes itself more seriously than south park, and the fandom probably takes it even more seriously. and it’s frustrating because not only can i no longer follow the comic (my attention span just isn’t made for it if it’s not a special interest anymore), i can’t find enough people in a fandom circle who can criticize the comic without pulling some other frustrating “[x] did nothing wrong!!!” bullshit. there’s too much discourse, complex discourse, often about complex topics like abuse and LGBT representation, and it just isn’t fun at all for me when i barely care about the plot anymore. that’s really it.

#note that i USED to love homestuck #and then vriskagram killed it #also i try to keep sp off of my main but sighs..... #answers #long post #sp critical #hs critical #Anonymous

[translusense]

Didn’t follow my gut yesterday & went to the beach with my best friend who I’ve known since I was a baby & who also was my boyfriend of 3 years, but now is my best friend again. & his guy best friend as well. I knew I wanted to write, and writing at the beach sounded nice. They were busy fishing & as I wrote down word after word, I got the feeling that I shouldn’t have gone with them.

I originally wanted to stay home and rest, but when I heard they were going to the beach instead of the lake, I was so in. What I forgot was we were going to be on a windy pier, papers flapping everywhere as I write. I made do until around 7:00 as it got colder and I told them I would wait in the truck, I have air, a charger, Netflix & myself. It would be amazing.

And it was, after, let’s just call him Rabbit, walked me back to the truck. I binge watched multiple episodes of 13 Reasons Why, season 3. Which also sparked a lot of thoughts that turned into questions, that soon became answers & I was feeling so good, by myself. They get back to the truck, my peace is interrupted & I tell myself not to let my peace of mind escape me just because I am feeling their energy mixed with mine now. (I will get into that later)

We then had to find a new spot, it’s getting later and now Drunkie (Rabbit’s best friend) is inviting more people to come fishing. My head, still pounding from the insane amount of alcohol consumption from YES, the night before. I just want to go home and lay down in bed. We move from Santa Monica, a few beaches over to Marina Del Rey.

This is where Drunkie’s friends show up. Seeing alcohol triggered me, it did. But because it was still day 1, I felt great. I had the willpower & the temptation subsided fairly quickly, especially when I stuck headphones in my ears and continued to watch my show. The show that I was being dedicated to, rather than my addiction.

The main thing that occurred to me last night, is why I was drinking in the first place. The vulgarity coming out of these guys mouths, it’s no wonder I wanted to suppress that bullshit. Having to be surrounded by misogynistic, big headed clowns. I realized my surroundings (before I decided to stop drinking) were a reflection of what I was choosing to ignore all along.

I stand proud today, being able to face these demons. But I can’t deny that I chose drinking and mindless conversation over authenticity for a long time. I was afraid of confronting the demons that held me so dear to the bottle. The fact that I love, but don’t like the people I hang out with. If I was sober, which I am now, I wouldn’t be hanging out with a crowd like that.

So my next move while battling a burning passion for the taste of a drink, is self isolation. Not to the point where I become a crazy cat lady and speak to them rather than humans, which I already do anyway, but at-least to re-evaluate my decisions and mindset from the past however many years.

My head was clearly in the clouds. The clouds made out of vodka & just about anything that had an alcohol percentage on it.

Here is my situation today; (check in later)

I am going to Long Beach to celebrate Rabbit’s birthday with his family who still thinks we’re together because he hasn’t told them yet & they are raging alcoholics themselves. WOW. Sounds great right? I’m gonna spend my time swimming with his little sister, she’s mature for her age and she can’t drink. We talk about Tarot cards & manifestation. She’s 13. I love her a lot. She’ll have my back today. And so will I.

Breathe.

#sobreity #alcoholic #alcohlism #rehab

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'

-’Falling’ by Harry Styles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRDKoMcgavw

I’ve seen and read a lot of fanfictions where it’s told from the POV of one character and that inspired me to write this but... it’s not happy... much... and Harry Styles’ song just also inspired me to write out this fairly sad piece because that song is such a tearjerker man..

I like to this of this as an inside look of the witch's mind and thoughts as well as her opening up about her issues.

WARNING: This small piece contains mentions and/or references to suicide and intrusive thoughts. Reader discretion is advised.

Interestingly... I've come to realize that Amy's behavior makes sense if you know what Borderline Personality Disorder is and what the symptoms are. Many of which she actually checks out for. I study a lot of psychology in my spare time and to my surprise, Amy ended up showing some symptoms even though I swear to God it wasn’t my intention, it just kinda... ended up like that.

For more info or insight on BPD: 

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/comic-perfectly-shows-jealousy-looks-232343129.html

https://psychcentral.com/lib/loving-someone-with-borderline-personality-disorder/

Amy’s POV:

Apparently most children get their quirks at the age as early as 3 or 4, but when I was 4 years old I didn’t get mine. 5, 6,7,8,9, still nothing. That was it, I guess that just meant I was going to be quirkless forever, on the bright side at least I would be part of a minority that I could one day fight for I thought. If I’m gonna be quirkless I would own it. That’s what I told myself.

But then one day when I was 9 years old I woke up over my bed, floating around my room until my mom came in to make sure I came down safely. She told me everything, how her side of the family has a bloodline of witches that dates all the way back in the 1800’s and one of my great great great grandmothers or something had the same genetic affliction. Just like that everything became different, when I thought it was awesome at first, started to learn just what I am and who I am, and the history of all the great witches of the past. Slowly but surely I discovered more powers about myself, more powers I would one day learn.

Everything was brilliant… until the following year my parents were killed by witch hunters. Dad wasn’t even a witch, he was just an ally, he loved my mom and I more than anything, and they killed him for that. Worst part? When the heroes got to me before I could get barbecued, they didn’t even kill them.

I suppose that’s where it all begins though, after that they decided I wasn’t going to be safe enough here and that my new powers that were manifesting would be too much for them to handle. And because they didn’t want to deal with me, they called on the other witches on the other side of the world. From then on out, I had to leave my old life behind, my best friend and his family who treated me like family. I went from orphaned, to abandoned, to a bloodbath. 

As soon as I got to New Orleans everything else was just as unsafe. Asshole frat boys, an actual Minotaur man, fucking zombies, voodoo witches and of course MORE witch hunters trying to kill us. And also an immortal racist, a Frankenstein Frat boy, a tongueless butler who has tea parties and sex with dead teenage girls, a wicked voodoo deity and an old, axe-wielding serial killer that was once a ghost in Robichaux. Yup. But that’s just a perfectly average day at Robichaux, and a perfectly average day in my fucked up life.

At least I had my sisters like Zoe, Madison and Misty, and Ms. Cordelia and how can I forget Ms. Myrtle? That woman needs to be a fashion icon and I will do justice by her and make sure the world knows who she was. And even Ms. Fiona. The bitch who used to be in charge was pretty badass, I mean if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be the strong, independent witch bitch I am today. Yeah I have a ton of issues because of the borderline emotional abuse she dished out on me and the other witches but still...

My new sisters were by far the least terrible part of the entire thing. Which is why it still breaks my heart to think about how some of them died, because not all of them came back... 

Through all of that I kept myself up though. I learned how to fight back and fight alongside my sisters. I learned how to be strong, how to rely on myself and my sisters because we knew that no hero was going to come to our rescue. I had to be strong, I had to have thick skin and an elastic heart. Yeah that’s right I referenced Sia, she’s an awesome singer, just like Stevie Nicks. Amazing women, inspiring...

Sorry, getting off-topic. Anyhoo, I’ve realized though that it’s better that way. Being with the witches showed me the truth of the world, how the world looks at us and how it wants us to look. We have to be perfect, we have to be charming, we have to smile and look pretty. Why? Because the heroes have to be there to save the cute and pretty damsel in distress so they can feel powerful. 

This idea of heroes and villains is really all just bullshit... all of these villains I’ve seen thus far... they’re kittens compared to the evils and horrors I’ve seen here. It’s not just New Orleans, but I mean Bloody Face was a monster back in the 50′s, then the man who made the Hotel Cortez, he was pure evil and still haunts that hotel to this day. James Patrick March. Evil. Pure Evil and he murdered just to feel something, innocent people who didn’t deserve it. Dr. Arthur Arden, a.k.a Hans Gruper, the Nazi doctor who hid under a disguise and performed horrifying experiments on humans in the insane asylum of Briarcliff. Instead of helping those poor people, he just murdered, butchered and tortured them for his sick experiments. So many lives ruined, mutilated. The victim’s last moments were nothing but pain and a desperate wish for death until he put a bullet through their heads.

Murders, monsters, all of them. They all murdered for fun, and then even normal people were evil, the ones who valued their pride and selfish desires over anything and destroyed innocence itself just to achieve that. 

Those are the real evil people. All For One? Overhaul? Shigaraki? They couldn’t slice a loaf of bread with the amount of sharpness they had all put together. 

Those ‘villains’ that All-Might and my friend Midoriya have fought thus far are nothing compared to the monsters I’ve seen. They’re all a bunch of kitty cats, but I’ve seen and known killers. Real killers. Real monsters. 

A woman from an old asylum once said that ‘all monsters are human’ and she was right, because the monsters I’ve seen were humans. The worst of humanity and I've seen it all. What heroes choose to ignore though is that it's in all of us, and that those who choose not to do shitty things is what makes a hero apoarently. What a crock of shit...

But I guess monsters are just another thing that the heroes like to glamorize so they can fight and save the world from what they deem as the real monsters of the world. When I showed that I wasn’t a sweet and gentle girl as he believed, Midoriya looked at me like I was a monster, which just proved to me that he’s a part of what I’m fighting, and that that’s what this society wants, a good little girl who does good things all for the sake of this society. And I’m a monster because I’m not a good little girl, my sisters aren’t good little girls, no, we’re not a bunch of sad girls who are just waiting to be rescued, we’re witches. We’re not giving those motherfuckers the satisfaction of saving the poor damsels in distress because we’re not, we’re powerful and we don’t owe them anything, not a thanks, not a hug, not a flash of our tits and especially not a goddamn smile that men just love to see on women. 

Men like that are afraid of women like us, they’re afraid of women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and dirty our hands with blood. Afraid of women like me. And I learned how to fight, I was able to keep myself flying, because that was my first power, flight. I can fly based on how I feel, or on how much willpower I put into it. My power comes from my emotions and no fucking misogynist can tell me my emotions make me weak because I can do anything I want based on how I feel and how much willpower I have.

Lately though, it’s been nothing but willpower, as the older I get the more I realized that I’m not loved in this place. I wouldn’t be missed if I disappeared and I know it. I know it. But in life young people like me have to keep going even though we’re also gifted with the power of being painfully aware of all the bullshit that adults try to tell us is the truth, but we know better than that, they just don’t get that we’re not as stupid as we look. Although the sad part is, some of us ARE and they buy into the bullshit and try so hard to be the perfect little shitheads these assholes want us to be.

I can’t do that though, that’s not me. I wish it was sometimes though, who knows, maybe if I was that kind of person then maybe I would be liked by everyone, but that’s not me. Maybe that’s why I won’t be missed, maybe that’s why I’m forcing myself to fly every damn day just to make it through. Forcing myself to pretend that everything’s fine and smiling like a fucking idiot just to make everyone happy and not let them be miserable as me, but this shit’s hard, it’s hard to act like you’re okay when you’re not.

And I’m too aware of this shit, too aware to be truly ignorant and I call people out if I think they sound ignorant. So I’m not surprised when they end up leaving me or trying to tell me to be nicer and that I shouldn’t be blaming anybody or anything just because I’m a cynical and miserable bitch. Yeah, I’m a bitch but I can’t help it. At least I know my shit, I’d rather be a miserable bitch than an ignorant one.

Yet here I am, constantly miserable, constantly thinking and constantly aware that I’m nobody’s favorite person.

That’s just it. I’m not surprised by anything, because everything I do, everything I say, there’s always something bad behind it, that’s the idea I give everyone. I know it, it shouldn’t bother me but apparently, I can’t bring myself to fly because I’m happy, because I’m not. And then there’s always something that shows up in my life, something to make me feel some type of way, not a good way though. I can’t help the way I react to some things, I wish I could though, a normal person would be able to just go out and live life the way everyone else does. But I’m not normal. I never was. And every single day I’m reminded of it, every single day I remind myself it.

Every time I fly it’s through willpower alone, not because I’m so excited that my feelings can make me fly. No, lately I haven’t been able to feel a goddamn thing, and ironically that’s what hurts the most.

For someone who’s first gift was flight and for someone who’s powers allow them to fly, I’m just… falling. 

Constantly, every time I fly, I just feel like I’m falling as the weight of this world just keeps beating me down until one day I eventually hit rock bottom.  I don’t expect anyone to catch me, not even my loved ones. I feel like I’ve hurt them enough. Everyone I love, I end up hurting in some way because I’m just a jealous, overzealous, toxic and cynical bitch. I don’t deserve them and they don't deserve this. All this poison, all this anger and problems, I don't want that for them.

So I don’t tell them that I’m falling when I’m flying. If I’m gonna fall, I’m not going to drag them down with me.

Rock bottom almost doesn’t sound like a bad idea at this point. There are times where I get so frustrated with everything, so angry and so pissed off that I need to get away from everything and everybody and I let myself fly upwards. I just fly as high as possible, so high that I’m in the clouds and I can no longer see the rest of the world beneath me. 

God... sometimes I get so high that I just want to stay up there. I want to stay feeling so high and so powerful like nothing can stop me. I’m invincible when I’m up so high. And yet that honestly terrifies me too, because when I’m up so high I forget everything, even the things and the people I don’t want to forget. How could I ever want to forgive some of the people I love the most? 

When I remember them, that’s when I regain my vision and I start to see how high I’ve gotten, and how far it is to go back down. Everyone can see me and they can see how far I’ve gone, even up that high I can still see their disappointed faces and that just no longer makes me feel so invincible anymore. Because then I start to think ‘here I am’ up on top and yet I’m all alone up here. 

Sometimes when I’m up that high is when I start to think about just letting go of the willpower and letting myself fall from such a distance, close my eyes and just let everything go. Let the gravity just bring me back down until I hit the ground.

 And then I wonder, would that matter at all? Would it be better that way?

But as usual, I can never think of a fucking answer… other than that I should probably just go back home because I have people waiting for me. Ashlen, Hitoshi, Katsuki, Madison... I hope they're not too worried about me... I know they want to see me come home even though I’m the last person I want around, and I honestly don’t know how they want me around. 

Yet I guess it’s enough to make myself fly a little more, just to go back to them, because in the end I feel a little bit of something when I’m with them. They’ve moved my wicked heart, even when I think I’m better off dead, they make me fly. 

I don’t know if I saved myself, or if it’s them who saved me, because frankly it’s too late to save me, but I’m still here. I’m still here so I can go home and see them.

God... I haven’t been home for a while, but I’m on my way back home, I know they’re waiting for me, probably worried about me too.

Ash, Toshi, Katsu, Mads... You guys don’t have to worry, I’m coming home now. After all, I wouldn’t miss seeing your smiles for the world. 

#amy martinez #american horror story #american horror story coven #ahs coven #ahs coven oc #ahs coven original character #american horror story oc #american horror story coven original character #american horror story original character #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha oc #mha oc #boku no hero academia original character #my hero academia original character #witches #sad #feminism #happy International women's day #mental health #ahs asylum #American horror story asylum

[violet-bookmark]

Princess of Dorsa, by Eliza Andrews, Ch. 1 & 2

I will make a chapter by chapter review of this book because I have a lot to say about it. Obviously, beware of spoilers if you want to read it. 

Quick summary: Princess Natasia doesn't expect anything more than to marry a man of her father's choosing that will be the heir of the Empire. But after an assassination attempt, the Emperor is afraid that other noble families are conspiring against the Dorsa family, so he names Tasia his heir instead. But the Empire is crumbling and several kingdoms and spies are trying to sow discord inside the court. 

TL;DR: Game of Thrones but with a bisexual protagonist. 

We begin with the protagonist dreaming about her mother before she abruptly wakes up; she's at Marka's house, the son of an ambassador. They just had sex and fell asleep, and Tasia is not pleased because this means she has to run to the palace before the guard shift, because the night guards are her friends but the morning guards would rat her out without a second thought. She doesn't seem to like Markas a lot, mostly she seems to be with him because she finds him physically attractive. 

Jump to the assassination attempt, which is very illogical. The book mentions that, just after the princess gets out of her lover’s apartment, a shadow starts to stalk her. So the assassin followed her out of the castle, waited for her while she had sex with Markas and even left them enough hours to have a nap afterwards, and just after the princess went out of the apartment he tried to kill her? What a gentleman. Why didn't he sneak in while they were asleep, killed the princess and blamed her lover for the murder? Even if her boyfriend woke up, there is an easy solution to that. Kill him as well, pretend everything was orchestrated by another jealous lover and bam, instant murder without anyone from the nobility being suspicious. After all, the princess is dressed like a commoner and she had the poor sense of not bringing any bodyguards with her in case things went awry. It would have been super easy to pass this as a murder committed by a civilian. Which is the reason that princesses and queens in real life were more cautious than this, and even then some of them ended up being killed by civilians anyways (see Elisabeth of Bavaria, Empress of Austria). 

I understand this scene was to show us that 1) Tasia is rebellious and sexually adventurous, as she sneaks out of the castle at night disguised as a baker's girl and mentions having other lovers, 2) that she can be rowdy like the night's guards, who she is friends with by virtue of bribery and sharing dirty jokes. This could have been shown to us in another scene without having the attempted assassination thrown into the mix. Or even then, the scene would have been way better and more realistic if she at least had a bodyguard with her, something normal for a princess. It would have also added drama to the scene and some real fighting. 

The princess and the assassin have a clumsy fight, and then, this happens:

He put her knee against her back, pinning her to the ground. When he leaned close to turn her over...

Why is the assassin turning her over? To say hello? He could kill her while she is on the floor, face down, immobilized and at a greater disadvantage. His knife could reach her heart and lungs perfectly from that angle. He is an assassin, he should know that. Why isn't he killing her? 

As I said, he is such a gentleman. 

She resists, but due to the fact that she doesn't know how to fight, she is easily overpowered and about to die yet again.

Then the chapter ends, which I don't understand because there was no need to cut the scene in two like that. It feels anticlimactic. If the second chapter was from the Emperor's viewpoint or from a guard's viewpoint, I would understand, but it's not. But back to where we left: due to the fact that we can't have the protagonist die, the assassin rises his knife dramatically again despite the fact that he was already about to stab her before and waits enough time to be captured by a couple of guards who happened to be in the vicinity. He heard his screams, but instead of finishing the job or, you know, running away, he just stood there like ??? Until he got captured. Amazing murder skills. 

After that, Tasia grabs her royal ring from inside a loaf of bread (??? Who does this? Who bakes a loaf of bread with a royal ring inside? What if someone steals the bread? What if somebody crashes into her and the bread falls and she loses the right loaf among the crowd? There is so much potential for things going wrong here...) And puts it on her finger, but makes sure to turn the royal crest down so nobody will see that she is the princess. A bad decision really. She was almost murdered by a man who knew who she is, why should she hide her identity? She will get in trouble, but she almost got killed because she is the princess, the guards should be informed. But it's her lucky day: neither guard seems to pay attention to the fact that the supposed baker girl was tearing her own bread apart to get a ring out of it, and therefore don't find out about her royal status.

She weighted both options. Nearly losing her life was deeply disconcerting. But explaining to her father why she was leaving Marka's apartments at four-of-the-clock... That was even more disconcerting.

Also, she could try to make up an excuse, there are a lot of reasons royals might want to sneak out of the palace. She doesn't have to tell him she was seeing Markas. I would understand her fear of being found out if her father would lock her up upon discovering that she has a lover, or if he was going to do something as equally as horrible to her. But the way she explains it, she makes it sound like he will be disappointed and lecture her for it, which is obviously not as bad as being almost murdered.

After that, one of the two guards walks her home, but obviously she lives in the castle so she has to think of a way to distract him so he doesn't find out she is the princess (this whole thing is just stupid). The guard thinks that she is a prostitute and sexually assaults her and it is too early for this bullshit. There was no need for this whole scene apart from the fact that the author wanted to be edgy and show us how misogynistic the guard is. Sexual predators do take advantage of circumstances like that, but this whole scene doesn't make a bit of sense to start with. Why is she putting up with this? She is the princess, surely disappointing her father is better than almost being raped. There is no need to write about the princess being degraded like that, especially when the situation makes no sense to begin with. It is purely gratuitous and disgusting.

After running away from the pathetic wannabe rapist guard, who is still chasing her by the way, she goes to the palace and calls for the night guard to help her. Pathetic wannabe rapist catches up with her and starts to scream obscenities at her, but then the night guard comes to the princess's rescue and he chickens out. 

She sighed heavily, because she knew what she must do, even if it was distasteful to her. Revealing what had happened tonight to her father was no longer a choice to be deliberated but something unavoidable. 

Servant of the Empire before servant of my desire, she recited to herself. It was probably for the best. If there was someone who knew her movements well enough to attempt an assassination tonight, then her father needed to know.

... Couldn't you have reached this conclusion sooner?

The cat is out of the bag, and this begs the question of why the entirety of chapter 2 happened when she got found out anyways. Once again: this was stupid and gratuitous.

The worst part? Instead of calling for pathetic wannabe rapist's removal from the guard, as he proved to be unfit to protect anyone, the princess tells the night guards that he is a ~hero~ and that he protected her. What the fuck. You're the princess! He's just a guard that took advantage of you! Obliterate him!

#Princess of Dorsa #Eliza Andrews #bisexual literature #bisexual protagonist #wlw books #fantasy #Violet reviews #chapter by chapter review

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 5 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 5 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link the previous chapters. This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.

Summary: Courtney continues to deal with the fallout from her adventure with Valentina. Adore and Bianca help. And judge her. But also help.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

VALENTINA: I’M CALLING YOU AGAIN, PICK UP!!!

VALENTINA: Courtneyyyy!! Picckkkk uppp!!!!

VALENTINA: Why are you ignoring me???

VALENTINA: Who the fuck do you think you are?

VALENTINA: Some washed up nobody, working as a fucking extra

VALENTINA: YOU WISH YOU COULD GET SOMEONE LIKE ME

VALENTINA: Please, please answer! 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

VALENTINA: You rude bitch

***

SHEA: Why in the fuck is that crazy cunt posting messages about you all over everyone’s walls?

COURTNEY: I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

SHEA: It’s not your fault. She’s a straight up psychopath. But try to distract her with a shiny object and run as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

COURTNEY: <3

SHEA: Coming to Alexis’ bday on Sunday?

COURTNEY: Yeah

SHEA: Don’t bring Valentina

COURTNEY: HAHAHA, YOU’RE SO FUNNY

SHEA: I KNOW RIGHT

***

VALENTINA: You’re all I think about. I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me. I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone. I know you felt the same way - why won’t you just talk to me? 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

COURTNEY: Please listen to me. I am not interested. I’m not going to respond again. You need to stop.

***

Courtney sighs, drumming her fork nervously on the table. Valentina has been calling all week with increasing frequency. She flips her phone over so that she doesn't have to see it lighting up with her name anymore.

“I’m telling you, block her number,” Adore says, turning her hat around. Today it says “FUCK OFF.”

“That’s really extreme. I told her to stop. Now I’m just gonna ignore her; she’ll get bored.”

Bianca shakes her head.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Joan Jett over here. Block her crazy ass before she boils a rabbit.” She takes a bite of lasagna.

“That’s funny,” Adore laughs, mouth full. “She’s funny.”

“I told you,” Courtney says.

“I guess you do have more to offer than your tits,” Adore says. “Cheers.” She holds up her plastic cup.

“Forget it, I don’t agree with anything she says, ever,” Bianca says, rolling her eyes. “Go with your instincts.”

Courtney laughs.

“Thanks, you’re both very helpful.”

“Why don’t you wanna block her?!” Adore asks, exasperated.

“Well...I feel a little responsible,” Courtney takes a bite of her salad, grimacing.

“How are you responsible for her being a psycho?”

“Ehhhh…I maybe gave her a little bit of the wrong impression last weekend. Like, not on purpose, but...you know how it is.” Courtney bites her lip.

“How it is?”

“Well, not for you. But some people, you see, equate sex with emotions,” Courtney explains slowly.

“Uh huh. Fascinating. Tell me more...” Adore leans forward, pursing her lips questioningly.

“Yeah.” Courtney laughs. “And plus, you know...she was very...uh...passive. You know what I’m saying?”

“No, I’m not following you,” Adore says, head tilted, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Adore.” Courtney knows what she’s doing. She’s going to make her say it out loud, in mixed company. Well, fine. Courtney’s not ashamed. “She was a pillow princess, okay?”

Adore bursts out laughing, tossing her head back. Bianca wrinkles her brow in confusion.

“What’s a pillow princess?”

“It’s like, when a girl wants you to eat her out, fuck her, and whatever else, but doesn’t do anything in return. All take, no give,” Adore explains.

“That sounds boring.” Bianca sips her Diet Coke pointedly.

“Yeah, it is,” Adore agrees. “You gotta be really fucking hot to get away with it, too.”

“Well, she was hot!”

“Oh, so you enjoyed yourself?” Adore teases. “Maybe you should answer, then.”

“It wasn’t the worst sex of my life, is all I’m saying.” Courtney isn’t sure why she’s defending Valentina. Or where this vague annoyance is coming from. She can feel Bianca’s eyes on her, and she suddenly gets very interested in the heirloom tomato salad she’s eating.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Adore says. “But what I’m still not understanding...are you saying that you rocked her world so hard that it’s your fault that she’s stalking you?”

Courtney stretches, smirking, giving a small shrug. Adore throws a dinner roll across the table.

“Arrogant slut.”

“You weren’t there,” Courtney laughs, then groans as her phone starts buzzing again.

***

VALENTINA: I don't understand why you're doing this 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

VALENTINA: I thought you liked me

VALENTINA: This isn't fair!!! 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

VALENTINA: Tell me what you want from me

VALENTINA: How can you be so heartless???

VALENTINA: 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

***

Courtney is unusually quiet on Monday, sitting in a chair with the dogs in her lap while Bianca finishes with one of the other actors, absentmindedly stroking their ears.

“You alright?” Bianca asks her at one point, after Kyle has left, as she settles back in front of her sewing machine. She’s pretty sure that Courtney’s going to be called to set in a few minutes. She’s dressed and ready to go, but seems distracted. Not her usual bubbly self.

“Yeah,” Courtney sighs. “I’m sorry, this is such a dumb situation.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“I’ve just been kind of obsessing about this idea that...like, it was totally avoidable, but I...I missed all the warning signs. Almost like I brought it on myself. Which in a way, is even more disturbing than what she’s actually doing.”

Bianca stares at her for a second, then goes back to sewing, jaw clenched shut. After a few moments, she realizes that she’s sewing in the wrong direction and uses her seam ripper to aggressively tear the stitches out, repositioning the garment in the machine.

“Are you alright?” Courtney ventures curiously.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Bianca bursts out.

“I-”

“No, I mean honestly? I let it go when you said it was your fault last week. Because, you know, I thought that was you trying to be cute, with Adore, about your sex life, or whatever. But this? Would it be your fault if someone assaulted you? If someone beat you? Would that be your fault?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

“Because what she’s doing is harassing you. She’s committing a crime. And any concept that you asked for it, or that it’s your fault - that is fucking patriarchal bullshit! It’s no different than saying that women are asking to get raped because of the clothes they wear! Or that women in abusive relationships are to blame for their partner’s behavior because, you know, they set them off. It’s fucking misogynistic nonsense and I thought you were better than that!”

Bianca yanks the dress out of the sewing machine and stands up, breathing hard. She feels a rush of shame, unsure why she’s so heated, where this rage is coming from, but too far gone to stop it.

“Just because she’s a girl, doesn’t mean she can’t be an abusive person. That’s also sexist bullshit. So don’t tell me that any of this is your fault!”

“B...I agree with you, okay?” Courtney says softly. “That’s...I mean, I don’t think that anyone is responsible for crimes committed against them. I know that everything she’s doing is her fault.”

“Good!” Bianca’s eyes still blazed, but she felt her pulse begin to slow down.

“I’ve just been...I don’t know, reflecting on my own behavior. Which I don’t think is a bad thing. Trying to figure out if there was something...I don’t know, that specifically drew me to that kind of toxic energy. And maybe there wasn’t. Maybe it was a fluke. I just...think it’s okay to think about my own choices here. Does that...make any more sense?”

Bianca sighs. She still thinks it’s a slippery slope to victim blaming, couched in New Age-y language. But she realizes that Courtney is an adult, and she has no right to tell her how to feel. Guilt gnaws at her stomach, for unloading so much onto her.

One of the set PAs pokes his head in the trailer. “Courtney? We’re gonna need you on set in 10. There’s a van coming now.”

“Be right out,” she says, rising from her seat, placing the dogs gingerly back into their carrier. She reaches for the lint roller but Bianca stops her.

“I got it,” she says hoarsely, gently rolling it over her dress.

“Thank you.” Courtney licks her lips, unsettled by the tension between them, but not sure how to fix it. She takes a shaky breath. “Are we okay?”

Bianca exhales, nodding.

“Of course. Just...be a better feminist.”

Courtney laughs, then leans over and presses her lips against Bianca’s cheek. “I’ll do my best,” she says with a soft smile.

***

By Wednesday night, Courtney’s nerves are shot. Text messages, calls, constant stalking on Facebook of not only her page, but her friends’ pages as well. Red roses are delivered to her door for days, until she thinks she’ll scream if she ever sees another one. She’s afraid to block Valentina’s number because she thinks that will just inspire her to get a different phone and even more aggressive. As it is, she’s getting some weird messages from a random 323 number and she’s pretty sure it’s one of her friends.

Courtney tosses and turns all night, unable to sleep. Finally, at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning, she drags herself out of bed. After a failed attempt at meditating, she stretches and goes for a run on the beach, trying to sweat out the nervous, toxic energy.

After she’s showered and eaten breakfast, she checks the time and sees that it’s still hours until her call time, but she can’t just sit around. She’ll lose her mind.

***

Bianca is in rare form today. They have a ton of extras, and so she’s got some new PAs, doe-eyed looking kids who are tripping over themselves to impress her as she barks orders and snaps her fingers in their faces.

Courtney sits, curled up on a bench in the corner with a kale smoothie, biting her lip to keep from laughing, thrilled for the distraction from her personal hell. She wonders if Bianca knows how adorable she is when she rolls her eyes and throws up her hands.

“Jamie, we’re on a fucking deadline here! That rack has to be totally done by 10, or we are fucked! If you need help, tell Trevor, that’s what he’s here for. If you don’t speak up, this is on you, which means it’s on me, which means I will fire your ass!”

Courtney lets out a giggle and Bianca turns to glare at her.

“Do you need something?” she snaps, sitting down at the serger.

Courtney opens her mouth, suddenly self-conscious. No, but I had a shitty night and being around you makes me feel better. She can’t say that. Her cheeks burn.

“No...am I bothering you? My first scene isn’t until after lunch.”

“Oh. Uh...no. But if you’re gonna be here, make yourself useful. Hand me those scissors.”

“Isn’t this some kind of union violation?” Courtney asks, handing Bianca a pair of scissors from the work table, smiling coyly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bianca goes back to her sewing machine.

Courtney smiles to herself, leaning against the wall, watching her work.

In the adjacent trailer, where the PAs are working, there’s a crash, followed by “Shit!” and a bunch of nervous laughter. Bianca stands and marches over, throwing open the curtain.

“Okay, pick it up and fix it! What the fuck are you waiting for?! Move! You think we’re doing this for our health?!”

“In Australia, we say ‘we didn’t come here to fuck a bunch of spiders,’” Courtney offers.

“We didn’t come here to fuck a bunch of-” Bianca starts, then does a double take back at the blonde. “What?!”

Courtney shrugs.

“Okay, just...hurry up,” Bianca finishes to the PAs, closing the curtains, then looks at Courtney. “Fuck spiders? What kind of deviant shit are you into down there?”

“It’s just an expression,” Courtney laughs, sipping her smoothie.

“Sick Aussie freaks. How big are your spiders, anyway?”

“Really big.”

"Jesus Christ. Remind me never to go to Australia." Bianca shakes her head, settling back down at the sewing machine.

Courtney laughs again, resting her chin in her hands.

***

After work, Courtney arrives home, feeling more peaceful than she has all week. She's finally managed to tune out the constant barrage of messages and reach a state of relative tranquility. She enters her kitchen through the back door and begins pouring a glass of wine when she almost has a heart attack.

Because standing on her front porch, face pressed to her huge picture window, looking directly into her eyes...is Valentina.

Courtney considers calling the cops. Or a friend. Simon would come over in a heartbeat. She briefly wonders if this girl is actually dangerous, heart hammering in her throat.

But then she remembers her soft, pleading eyes, and guilt takes over. She exits through the back door, the way she came in, and walks around to the front of the house, joining her on the porch.

“I guess this means you’re not inviting me inside.” Valentina's chest rises and falls rapidly. Courtney can tell that she’s working very hard to contain her rage. Her eyes blink rapidly.

“No.”

Valentina sits down heavily on the steps, tears filling her eyes. Courtney leans against the bannister.

“Look. I’m sorry...okay? For whatever I may have done that hurt you. But this...you can’t do this. You can’t come to my house.” Courtney bites at her cuticles, unsure of what else to say.

Valentina puts her head in her hands.

“I thought we had a real connection. I thought you really liked me,” she whispers mournfully, looking up at Courtney, black tears streaking down her cheeks.

Courtney does feel bad. Mostly because, if she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t actually feel anything for this girl at all, other than vague annoyance, and a strong desire to be left alone.

“I did. I mean, I thought we had a good time. I wanted to see you again, but then...the way you acted. I didn’t feel comfortable with that. I don’t jump into relationships quickly. The last exclusive relationship I had was two years ago.”

“But it was a joke.”

“It freaked me out. And then, the way you responded freaked me out more. You got super hostile really quickly, and I just...I don’t like that energy. I’m not making a value judgment about you or your life. But I can’t be around that. And that’s my decision. You need to respect that.”

“I told you, I’ll change. I just want a chance.”

Courtney sits down.

“I don’t want you to change. I just want you to move on.”

Valentina hugs her knees as the tears begins to flow again.

“I’m going back inside now. You can...stay as long as you need, to get yourself together. But please don’t come back. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m really sorry, but this ends, tonight.”

Valentina continues to cry, face buried in her knees.

“Okay. Um...Goodbye.”

Courtney gets up and walks back through her side gate, through the back door, then collapses on the living room sofa, exhausted.

***

“Stand still!” Bianca orders, eyeing the shoulders on her dress, pins in her mouth, concentrating.

“Sorry!” Courtney laughs, planting her feet, trying to stop her eyes from drifting down to the cleavage of Bianca’s v-neck t-shirt, which reads “COLUMBIA NYC.” Courtney clears her throat. “Did, uh...did you go to Columbia?”

“Yup.”

“Ivy league, huh? Were you in a sorority, that whole thing?” Courtney can picture Bianca running a sorority. She’s exactly the kind of Type A personality born for that kind of stuff.

“The whole thing,” Bianca affirms with a light laugh. “But don’t worry, I was on a full scholarship.”

“Smarty pants.”

“Well, it was the only way we could afford it, so…”

“Sometimes I regret not going to university,” Courtney says wistfully.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well...I came over from Australia when I was 15, after I got scouted by this modeling agent in Sydney.”

“You were a model?”

Courtney glares at her.

“I don’t like the amount of surprise in your voice right now.”

“No, I mean, you’re beautiful,” Bianca laughs. “Like, very beautiful, but...you’re also five feet tall.”

“I’m 5’5’, and not all modeling is runway, you judgmental cunt,” Courtney replies, hands on her hips. “For your information, I was on the cover of Seventeen, okay? I was the face of fucking Neutrogena.”

“Oh, so you were legit?” Bianca responds, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I was super legit. Alright? I made so much money, my mum got a coke habit. And I bought a house in Venice when I was 20. Did you have beachfront property when you were 20?”

“Sure didn’t.”

“Well there you go!” Courtney tongue pops triumphantly.

“Your mom had a coke habit?”

“Yeah, that was a little rough,” Courtney admits. “I don’t know what got into her. Anyway, I bought the house and I really wanted to stay, and when I was like 21, I applied for citizenship, and here we are. I’m a tax-paying dual citizen.”

“Lucky for us.”

“I bet I’ve voted more times in this country than you, too,” Courtney says.

“That’s not possible”

“Wanna bet? If I’m right, you owe me lunch tomorrow.”

“Deal. But you’ve only voted in one election, so you already lost.”

Courtney smirks, knowing that she’s got her, simply from that one comment.

“Who’d you vote for for Lieutenant Governor in the special election last month?”

Bianca stares at her, confused.

“Or on the city measures last spring? What did you think of that Water Tax Increase? It was written in kind of a confusing way, huh?”

“I...meant like presidential elections.”

“I know you did. That’s why I win,” Courtney says smugly. “I think I’m in the mood for Italian...”

Bianca bites her lip. She just lost a bet, but she feels like she’s won, since she suddenly has an excuse to see Courtney on their day off. But she knows she’s supposed to be annoyed, so she feigns some huffiness, crossing her arms.

“Well, fine,” she sighs. “I guess a bet’s a bet.” She almost gets away with the act, too, until Courtney catches her eye and she can no longer stop the dimples from appearing in her cheeks.

“One p.m. tomorrow work for you?”

“Sure.” Bianca doesn’t bother hiding her grin anymore, picking up the polaroid and ignoring the persistent fluttering in her chest.

***

Courtney giggles, twirling her hair, watching Bianca’s emphatic hand movements as she tells a story about some shenanigans on a family vacation during her teen years.

She’s sitting with Bianca in one of her favorite Italian restaurants - where you can get gluten free, vegan pasta, or even dishes where the noodles are swapped out for shredded vegetables, to Bianca’s horror. (Although she’d calmed down a little once the waitress showed her the entire page of the menu with homemade ravioli and tortellini, and admitted that maybe this place did in fact have something for everybody.)

“...so anyway, then Liz started screaming bloody murder, and Vanessa and I are laughing our asses off, because we’re the evil ones, and Lynne is wringing her hands all worried that we’re gonna get in trouble, and I realize that we probably will if she rats us out, and-”

Courtney suddenly stops laughing as her phone lights up, buzzing, and a familiar name on the caller ID causes a chill to run down her spine. Bianca follows her gaze to the phone, frowning.

“I thought you said that you got rid of that crazy bitch?”

“I...I did. I mean, I thought I did.” Courtney hits ignore and shoves her phone into her purse.

“Right. What did you tell her, exactly?”

“That she needed to stop. That I was sorry for hurting her but that I’m not interested and she needs to respect that. She seemed to understand.”

“Did she now?” Bianca asks, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Courtney pauses to swirl the ice cubes around her glass.

“I feel like you’re mocking me.”

The phone starts to buzz again.

“Give me your phone, Court.”

“What? Why?” Courtney eyes Bianca skeptically.

“Because you’ve been trying it your way for two weeks now, and she’s obviously not getting the message. Being nice and calm and sweet is not working. Now we’re gonna do it my way. Give me the phone.” Bianca’s voice is even but forceful, and something tells Courtney that arguing with her would be futile. And she’s not sure she wants to, anyway. She reaches into her bag and holds out her phone.

Courtney’s always had a lot of friends, and some very close ones. But she’s so used to being on her own, being independent, that it’s rare for her to let another person step in and help her the way Bianca is about to. She is used to being in total control of her life, and she likes it that way. The most surprising thing, right now, is how natural it feels to surrender.

“Just...don’t be too mean, okay?”

Bianca chuckles, snatching the phone out of her hand and pressing the button to accept the call.

“Oh, now you want to answer the phone,” Valentina snaps, only making Bianca angrier.

“Listen to me very closely-”

“Who is this? Put Courtney on the-”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, which she’s already told you multiple fucking times. So I suggest you shut the fuck up and put on your listening ears, if you know what’s good for you.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, a puff of air that sounds like a pouty scoff, but Valentina doesn’t say anything.

“Good. Now. What you’re doing, is harassment. It is illegal. If you keep it up, we will get a restraining order against you. That will be a part of your criminal record, forever. Are you following me or do I need to use smaller words?”

“I...I’m just trying to-”

“A simple ‘yes’ if you understand if sufficient. Do you fucking understand?”

“Yes, but-”

“Great. If you break a restraining order, do you know what happens?”

“Is Courtney even there?! This doesn’t sound like what she would-”

“Oh, I know! That’s why she handed the phone to me. Courtney, say hello, just so Valentina knows that you’re here. Go ahead.” Bianca holds the phone out to Courtney, gesturing emphatically to her.

“Hello,” Courtney says tentatively.

Bianca takes the phone back.

“Heard that? She’s here. So back to my question. What happens if you break a restraining order? You go to fucking prison. And here’s the thing. I’m not sweet and chill like Courtney. I don’t give a fuck about you. So, I have no problem coming after you, with a fucking bloodthirsty vengeance. Understand?”

“Please, just let me talk to her…” Valentina sobs.

“No! No, you fucking idiot! No more! This shit ends tonight. And if you continue to harass my friend, let me tell you, nothing will make me happier than to destroy your life on a level that you could not even imagine. Can your tiny little stalker brain understand that? Huh?”

“Y-yes.”

“No more calls. No more texts. No more Facebook messages. Don’t come to her house. Ever. Again.”

“Okay.” Valentina’s voice breaks.

“P.S...if you’re gonna be a lesbian, you should probably learn how to eat pussy.” Bianca hangs up the phone and tosses it down on the table.

“Bianca!” Courtney admonishes, eyes dancing with laughter.

“What?” Bianca rests her chin on her hand, eyebrows raised. “Am I wrong?”

“Well. Not entirely, but…” Courtney laughs, pressing her lips together, putting the phone back in her purse. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Can we finish our fucking meal now?” Bianca asks, dimples deep in her cheeks.

“Yeah.” For the first time since the messages started, Courtney feels one hundred percent sure that she’s going to be okay. Because now, even if Valentina messes with her again, she knows that someone has her back. Courtney smiles back gratefully, a weight lifted off her shoulders, telling herself that the warmth blooming in her chest was just due to having a loyal and dependable friend.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #adore delano #valentina #oc #lesbian au #fluff #angst #no smut wahhh #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw emotional abuse #concrit welcome