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raifenlf · 3 years

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Why Loki’s Sylvie Is A Mary Sue

So I am firmly in the camp that Sylvie on the Loki series was/is a Mary Sue. The last episode made me feel better and like maybe the show was doing a thing where they were faking you out that she was a Mary Sue only to show she was actually sort of a bad guy and I liked that. But all the recent interviews make me think the show wants to go back to her being a Mary Sue.

But I feel like when I call her out for being a Mary Sue people tell me what are you talking about, she’s not a Mary Sue, bad things happen to her, etc. But that doesn’t actually make her not a Mary Sue.

Also, before we start, I know some people find Mary Sue sexist. But I personally use the term for guys and girls. I don’t use the term to belittle women. I use the term to criticize a poorly written character.

And I know Mary Sue is often used to describe fanfic characters. But to me, this series is kind of like a fanfic because the writers took a character who had been in canon MCU material for ten years and then created characters around that character. So, I kind of review it like I would a fanfic. It’s very different than if the writers had created a brand new show with all of their own new characters.

Anyway, if you are not totally familiar with the Mary Sue term, then check this out:

I know the term Mary Sue probably means different things to different people. But I have always used these guidelines when I write my own fanfic to make sure my characters never come off as a Mary Sue.

This article really gives you a full scale of what a Mary Sue is. If you start reading it, you’ll immediately see why Sylvie is. But I’m going to take out the parts that most fit Sylvie just to highlight why I believe she is a Mary Sue. I apologize for this being so long.

Mary Sue Character Traits

Personality

Erm... what personality? The typical Mary Sue doesn't have one per se, because she isn't meant to be a character; rather, she's an entity by which the author makes cool stuff happen.

I feel like that is Sylvie in a nutshell. She doesn’t have a personality. I feel like even though she ate screentime, I still don’t really know her at all. The writers love to say she’s badass. That’s not a personality.

Sometimes when I am writing stories for fun and creating new characters, I like to take surveys as my fictional characters. Like the kind of surveys you’d see in a magazine, like personality types, what’s your dating style, etc. I figure if I don’t know what my character would do in any of those situations, then I need to keep working on my character. And if I was trying to fill out a survey pretending I was Sylvie I would have no idea what to answer because she doesn’t have a personality. She’s just “cool”.

What little personality a Mary Sue has isn't as important as how other characters react to it. No matter how shy or socially awkward Mary Sue is supposed to be, other characters will be inexplicably drawn to her

This is so Sylvie. Loki falls in love with her...why, exactly? He falls in love with her in the big Nexus event moment...why? Because she had a tough childhood? Mobius spends like two seconds with her in a car and goes from hating her to saying she’s his favorite Loki. For. No. Particular. Reason.

She's extremely persuasive; everyone finds her opinions to be better than their own

She enchants Hunter B-15 and then immediately Hunter B-15 makes it her whole entire life mission to back Sylvie up.

And occasionally she'll be a complete asshole...This can manifest itself in several ways...The author wants to write a badass but doesn't know how. This leads to a character who mistreats everyone around her and is never called out on her abrasive, casually abusive behavior.

Sylvie talked down to Loki and treated him like garbage for all of episode three, but it was never portrayed as a bad thing and we never got any impression Sylvie later felt bad for the way she treated Loki

The author doesn't know how to hold back the character, meaning that she will succeed at practically everything. This means that when she encounters rules or authority figures who would otherwise prevent her from doing what she wants to do, she rolls right through them (and they praise her for her "boldness" in defying regulations). If a bad guy is violent and aggressive, she can beat him by being more violent and aggressive (with all that entails). It's impossible for her to go overboard because she's protected by Protagonist-Centered Morality.

Sylvie is shown as a kid to immediately be able to grab a Tempad and run away. And she can kick ass way better than Loki, for no known reason. She is always able to fight back against the TVA when they attack her. And she can kill lots of innocent TVA agents but it’s okay because TVA bad, Sylvie good.

Skills

She will always be superior to the canon characters, regardless of what canon has established they can do or whether it makes any sense.

Whose skill was needed to defeat Alioth? Sylvie’s. Of course. Sylvie needed to teach Loki her skills in order for him to succeed (!). And again, she is literally called the superior Loki.

Relatedly, there's no effort to her skills. She never actually trains or learns anything to become more powerful; she just wins the Super Power Lottery, or is a freakish natural learner, or is just Inexplicably Awesome

We’re told Sylvie literally taught herself magic. She literally taught herself to enchant people. That. Makes. No. Sense. Like, I have so many questions. Like, why would it even occur to her to teach herself that? And how???????????? This is really lazy writing.

Canon Character Relationships

Mary Sue is often designed to hook up with another character, often as a form of Wish Fulfillment. This isn't that bad in and of itself (okay, it is kinda weird), but Mary Sue accomplishes this without any sense of realism. She just grabs her lover's attention straight away, and their relationship will never face any obstacles or tension; it's true love from the start and nothing else. The biggest giveaway is if the love interest is explicitly the author's favorite character, and she essentially "cures" him of all the angst that ails him (at the expense of his characterization).

Yeah, so...this one should be pretty obvious to anyone who watched the show. Loki literally falls in love with Sylvie immediately, and then he suddenly turns from “villain” to “hero” just because of loving her. And this was definitely at the expense of his characterization. And Loki just knows he falls in love with her. There’s not even any moments of hmm what do I feel for this person? It’s just true love, immediately.

She will be related to a canon character in some way. This (marginally) helps explain such phenomena as her being a Copy Cat Sue and other characters accepting her so easily.

Sylvie is a Loki variant. They use this to help explain why Loki is drawn to her and why their falling in love immediately “makes sense”.

Most characters give her more heed than they normally would. The good guys never stop praising her

Seriously, it was so over the top and OOC for Loki to gush over her. He literally tells her she’s amazing. They don’t even make it subtle.

Characters' previously established personalities change in reaction to her. Proud, arrogant gimps suddenly acknowledge her superiority in everything. Reckless youths will listen to all her advice. Responsible leaders will defer to her instead. Villains will obsess with her to the detriment of all else. Extremely competent characters will become stumbling buffoons who require her help to do anything. Sweet, mild-mannered characters whom the author doesn't like turn evil and insult her. They all become unnaturally focused on her in some way.

Again, Loki’s whole personality changed in reaction to her. He became a buffoon who needed her help to enchant the Alioth because of course he couldn’t do anything without her! Hunter B-15 goes from doing whatever the TVA said to fighting the TVA just because of Sylvie.

Story Elements

Mary Sue is without exception a single-person Spotlight-Stealing Squad. The entire story hinges on her existence; if you removed her, there would be no story.

Sylvie undoubtedly drove the whole story this season. It all became about HER meeting the TVA heads because of HER trauma. Loki’s life was only saved at the beginning because the TVA was trying to capture HER. And SHE was the one who started the whole multiverse (!).

Mary Sue is The Chosen One, even if the setting already has one. There are many ways she can accomplish this: she can be a Sailor Earth type who "shares" the position with the canon hero; she may be vaguely "destined to help the destined one fulfill their destiny" (i.e. do all the work except the final blow so that the prophecy is still technically correct); or the canon hero may be revealed to be a Fake Ultimate Hero all along. Being the Chosen One doesn't necessarily involve her being a God-Mode Sue, especially as authors become aware of the phenomenon and try to avoid it, but it does make her critically important to the world and allows her to continue stealing the spotlight without the "god mode" label.

HWR wanted Sylvie to come with Loki in the end, like she was chosen all along right alongside Loki. Like one of the most important characters in the entire MCU is now this character who we only met a few episodes ago.

Most Sues have an unusually Dark and Troubled Past. It's often used to create a Sympathetic Sue, but any type of Sue can have one

They tell us, over and over, how hard Sylvie’s life was because she was kidnapped by the TVA in order to create sympathy for her.

She almost never does anything wrong. In the rare instance that she does, it's usually; (a) a way for the author to disclaim her being a Mary Sue by introducing a single imperfection (that has no bearing on anything anyway), and (b) designed to show her smarts by making her feel instant remorse, and she'll be Easily Forgiven anyway:

So this one hopefully will not come true, as a lot can change between now and when the show is taped. But if the show goes on the way the behind the scenes team is talking, Sylvie immediately felt remorse for betraying Loki, and Loki has already forgiven her and is desperately looking for her. Ugh.

Alternatively, she is more than capable of doing something wrong, be it in general moral terms or something that goes against whatever code she abides by, and she maybe even frequently does so, but don't expect the other characters or the narrative to ever acknowledge or comment on it in any real capacity. If the other characters do call her out, expect them to be treated like they're the problem for daring to criticize her at all.

Mobius calls her out for killing people, but Sylvie immediately says he’s a bad person and then Mobius agrees, because, of course.

She will often suffer from Special Snowflake Syndrome; i.e., she has a trait or backstory that sets her apart from her group or race.

She is the only female Loki, thus making her the special one among all the Lokis in episode five.

Presentation

In visual media, the camera just can't stop staring at her.

The camera would follow her in fight scenes rather than Loki.

Mary Sue Tropes

Okay, so there are specific Mary Sue tropes that Sylvie is. One of those is Copy Cat Sue, which I think was referenced before.

Copy Cat Sue

A lot of fanfic writers...start to write something because of their passion for this character, but they find something about the character that doesn't mesh well. Maybe they're the wrong gender or are otherwise not close enough to the author's expectations...In any case, rather than put them through the Possession Sue process, they just get a Clone-O-Matic™ and out pops a Copy Cat Sue...the character might be intended as a replacement for the canon character, but without whatever icky traits the author hates. They'll then rob the spotlight, prove the canon character to be unworthy of his/her position, and either relegate the character to obsolescence or, perhaps, even remove them entirely.

Sylvie is basically a clone of Loki, she is a variant. But she absolutely robbed the spotlight of Loki’s, and they literally call her the superior Loki. I mean, they are literally not even being subtle about this. And there was a feeling by myself (and a lot of other viewers) that Sylvie might ultimately replace Loki in the MCU.

Black Hole Sue

Much like a black hole, this is a Mary Sue who "sucks in" the plot and characters to her. Characters will behave outside their personalities, logic will be defied, and rules will be broken for her sake.

Sylvie really does suck up all the plot and Loki definitely behaves outside of his personality just to fit the Sylvie show.

Jerk Sue

A Mary Sue who is mean or maybe even cruel, but are still treated as an ideal person.

Once again, Sylvie is basically a jerk all of episode three, but you’ve got Loki falling over himself to call her amazing in just the next episode.

Relationship Sue

A Mary Sue who exists to be the perfect mate for a specific character...this character has everything in the plot conspiring to enforce this One True Pairing...in Fanfiction, they are the perfect beloved of a canon character.

They literally have Mobius speculate that Loki falling in love with Sylvie is so extraordinary that it causes an entire Nexus event, that’s how huge this One True Pairing is (!). And Sylvie is the love interest of Loki, the only character who had been around before the beginning of the series

TLDR: Sylvie has all the tropes of a classic Mary Sue character. So calling Sylvie a Mary Sue isn’t being sexist or just randomly hating on the character. If you use common Mary Sue characteristics to examine the character, she just has too many of these characteristics to ignore.

#loki negativity #antisylvie #loki critical #loki criticism #antisylkie

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

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95 and 96 with max, thanks xx

95. "I said I'm done, leave me alone!"

96. "Don’t raise your fucking voice at me”

From all over the world, there was only one person that scared you: Jos Verstappen. It seemed scary to you even before you became his son's girlfriend and the fact that he didn't like you made you terribly anxious. Max always told you not to worry, his father doesn't dictate his personal life, he just accepts advice from him about his career. On one hand it calmed you down, but not completely.

You had been with Max for two years already and his father hadn't gotten used to you yet. You were beginning to wonder if he would ever do it. You could count on the fingers of one hand how many times you and Max argued and all the reasons were because of his father.

This weekend being the Belgian Grand Prix, of course he had come to support his son and that was a reason for anxiety for you.

"Everything will be fine, he'll behave and won't do anything to you. I really think he's starting to like you, you know?" he always says, although it's not always like that and you end up crying after every meeting with his father.

He never tells you anything, that's probably the worst thing. Sometimes he expresses his disappointment to Max and you only find out after a few months what he said. Most of the time, Jos doesn't even notice you, he just looks at you with indifference. Although Max has told him countless times that he loves you and does not intend to leave you and that you are the chosen one he doesn't seem to understand.

And it's not like Jos has a certain girl in mind to share her life with Max. He just doesn't like you because you're you. You have nothing special, you don't look like a girlfriend of a Formula 1 driver, you have nothing in common with this sport, and that makes him mad.

When Max introduced you at the beginning of your relationship, Jos was exasperated that you knew nothing about the sport other than the bare minimum of knowledge. But since then you have done everything in your power to learn everything possible about Formula 1, but even that did not make him like you.

"Hey, my dad is here, let's go say hello." Max tells you and you get up from the couch reluctantly.

You go with Max to meet Jos. You try to push all your negative thoughts into a corner of your mind and be positive. You haven't seen him in about four months, maybe he's not so against you anymore.

"Hi, Max!" you suddenly hear Jos' voice in front of you and he hugged his son. "Y/N." he says in an indifferent tone, looking at you with superiority.

You cough to get rid of the lump in your throat.

"Sir."

You return to the garages, the two men talking and catching up.

"I want to see the car, is that possible?" asks Jos when you get to the Red Bull Racing garage.

"Yes of course." says Max.

"I'll go to your room, I'll be right there." you say, putting your hand on Max's shoulder.

"Okay, love."

You go to Max's room to get your phone and look in the mirror again. You sigh. I look like shit. You go back to the two men, with your eyes on the phone, talking to your best friend. She asked you to keep her up to date with everything that is happening between you and Jos and, to be honest, nothing has happened so far, thank God.

"But does she really have to be here?" Jos asks in an attempt to whisper, but you could hear him all the way from the hall. You stop immediately in the doorway and bite your lip. He was talking about you.

"Dad, we have this talk every time we see each other. Yeah, she has to be here because she's my girlfriend."

"But she doesn't do anything! It just distracts you from work. She doesn't even work, does it seem normal to you? Don't look at me like that, I'm your father and I want what's best for you. And listen to me, Y/N is not."

Bradley straightens his voice and signals Max to the door. He had seen you. You leave from the door immediately and go to Max's room. It was the thousandth time you had heard Jos' opinion of you, and you still couldn't get used to his venomous words.

Max had come for you. You wipe away your tears with his sweatshirt that was on you and you start to gather all your things. You couldn't sit there under the same roof with Jos Verstappen at the time.

"Hey, what are you doing? Why are you packing?" he asks.

"Just asking me confirms that you don't care that I heard what your father said."

"But you just know he always says something. Just don't listen to him."

"Don't listen to him?" you shout. "It's easy for you to say that because my family loves you, right? If my father hated you and constantly told me how disappointed he is that I'm with you, would you be so okay. with this?"

"Don’t raise your fucking voice at me. You act like a little brat.”

You laugh and wipe your tears again.

"I'm behaving like a brat? That is a lot from someone who stays with you just for money, don't you think?" You take off Max's sweatshirt and you throw it on the ground.

"You know what? I respect him because he's your father. But I'm tired. Do you think that listening to his words non-stop is good for me? For my mental health? I am done." you say taking your bag and walking past him to get out of the room.

"What?" he says and you hear his voice break. You don't have to turn around to see him crying. "Don't go, please!"

"I said I'm done, leave me alone!" you scream at him again. "Good luck in the race."

You got out of the Red Bull Racing garage as fast as you could. You pass Jos Verstappen and you don't even look at him even though you feel his gaze on you. Max was behind you, trying to wipe away his tears but to no avail.

"What happened, son?" Jos asks.

"What the fuck happened? What the fuck you wanted to happen from the beginning. She broke up with me because of you. I hope you're happy!"

You watched the race from the stands. Max's race was shit. Although he started from pole, he did not have a good start and reached the eighth position before the first turn.

On lap 34 he lost control of the car and had an accident. When you saw that he was not getting out of the car, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind and you didn't know how to get to the garages faster.

Jos Verstappen was very worried and no one knew anything about Max, the radio connection was no longer working. It was a red flag and all the cars had returned to the pits. Immediately the medical car had arrived at Max and you could see from the garage screens how they pick him up from the car and he walks on his own two feet. Only then you realized that you had forgotten to breathe.

You and Jos were on your way to the medical building to see him.

"I'm fine." he assures you when he sees you.

"What happened, Max? How did you lose control of the car?" his father asks in a calm and worried tone.

Max shrugs and looks at you.

"I couldn't concentrate. I just thought about what a stupid man I am..." he says with tears in his eyes.

You giggle and kiss him.

"Yes, you really are."

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 2021 #f1 imagine #f1 #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula one #formula 1 #red bull racing

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chinchillinbb · 3 years

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭

rating: t warnings: strong language word count: 929 requested: no summary: after a long day at work, you come back to your cat, who, after a year of being cursed by an eldritch deity whose name you can't pronounce, can now talk. and boy, is he snarky.

You blew a puff of hot air into the back of your already frozen car. Winter had decided to not only bare its teeth this year, but clamp firmly down onto any exposed skin. This was especially unfortunate when you worked in a combination bookstore/coffee shop. Lots of coffee orders, and no working heater because “the humidity is bad for the books”.

The one upside of working here was the pay. The owners knew the working conditions were only for the strong willed, especially during the winter, and took pity, along with offering a free coffee on your break. That meant you could afford to take care of a cat, which made your days infinitely better.

Today? Not even your fluffy orange cat, Squish, could restore your energy. You walked through the door before taking off your wet boots and throwing your extra 2 layers onto the floor with a grumble and a half. The space heater you bought at a garage sale 2 years ago was still chugging along, but you didn’t have it up very high while you were at work. Just because your pay was good didn’t mean that you were about to get freaky with your electric bill.

Finally wrapped up in a thick blanket, with the heater and some fluffy socks both on, you could cuddle with Squish. “How’s your day been, babes?”

“Fucking miserable. You?”

You froze. (Figuratively.) Maybe the hypothermia was getting to you. Could hypothermia make you hallucinate? Maybe you were mentally ill. File that away in your brain for a later Google search. But what kind of crazy person was gonna look at their normal, totally not talking cat, and ask them to do it again? You. “Hey Squish, I know you don’t like, talk, but um… on the off chance that you do, could you do it again?”

“Yeah, trust me, it’s been a real doozy having to keep my trap shut while you stumble around like an idiot, burning pasta and banging your hip into the table making dinner. Alas, it’s been 1 life since the beginning of my sentence, and now I can finally articulate just how dumb that shirt does make you look.”

While you were busy floundering at the revelation that your cat could, in fact, talk, and had strong opinions about your wardrobe choices (much less the fact that they’d somehow already lost a life), Squish was audibly sighing and groaning about how stupid you were, and how all cats are superior, and how they “might not even want to change back at this rate.”

“So… I mean, is this a thing all cats do? You sorta mentioned a punishment or a, um, a sentence, or something? Oh my god, I don’t have the money for a mental hospital, much less schizophrenia medication.” You lamented your issues, and wondered if maybe you had imagined your cat all along. Maybe they’d never actually been real.

Squish spoke up before you could panic more, “Okay, okay, chill. Not all cats are as great as me, no. I’m a special case. You know how Arachne got turned into a spider? I angered an eldritch being, and got bippity boppity booped into a house cat. Something about the experience being humbling, but to be honest? You feed me, and let me stay. It’s even warm in here, most of the time. Hey, speaking of which, what’s with the whole “no heater while you’re gone” thing?”

“My cat angered an eldritch being. Does that make me cursed, by extension, for pitying you?” You spluttered, pointing a finger accusingly in Squish’s face. If cats could look indignant, Squish was the best at it by far.

“You’re probably fine! Jesus, what a drama lord… Anyways, the only way to un-cat me is for me to either wait out nine lives, or to learn how to be humble. I picked you, because you seem to have cripplingly low self-esteem, and I’ve heard that being humble is supposed to make you undervalue yourself. You work in a freezing coffee shop/bookstore duo for objective pennies, so I figured you were the best fit.” Squish finished by jumping up onto the coffee table to eat your fake flower centerpiece.

Leveling them with a warning glare, you huffed, “Well, you did wonders for my “low self-esteem” by saying my top is ugly, thanks. And the heater stays off when I’m gone is to save money, not that you’d know anything about that, Sir Lap of Luxury.”

“I didn’t say the top was ugly, I said it made you look stupid.” Squish stared back with an even more intense scowl. It’s probably the fact that they have cat eyes, and by extension, thin, intimidating slits for pupils. Maybe that should be their new nickname. “Slits for Pupils”.

You plopped down on the couch and looked at the quickly cooling box of takeout you got. “You know, I have half a mind to toss you out right now. What if the elder deity you angered decides being a cat isn’t a good enough punishment, and comes back to finish the job? What if they kill me for being hospitable to what I thought was a slightly ornery, but cuddly, domestic cat?”

Squish continued staring in that apathetic, far off way that cats do sometimes, as though they know all the secrets to the universe and are trying to shoot them into your brain. It was oddly reassuring, considering the circumstances, and you supposed that this conversation could wait until you had eaten, before your food was wasted.

(a/n: discord is here)

#beast #catboy x reader #cat #shapeshifter x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #eldritch gods #unnamed eldritch gods #to be precise #i wanted to be fluffy today #beauty and the beast au #except it's healthy and the beast learns to be humble <3

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morimallow · 4 years

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NSFW Headcanons for Timeskip!Atsumu, Oikawa, and Tendou as Boyfriends

I didn't go into detail for this one to make it GN. I hope this is still alright.

AKA: Atsumu and Oikawa sex fails, Tendou sex supremacy.

Atsumu Miya

This man is FLEXIBLE. When I say flexible, not only physically but just.. flexible. He's all into plays, kinks, and stuff. He makes sex fun and enjoyable for the both of you. Stops when you feel uncomfortable or when you say your safe word.

Sex is casual between you two. Your normal conversation consists of: “Have you tried this one?” “Oh, can we do this tonight or whenever you feel like it?” “Man, I wanna ravish your hole right now, babes.”

He is a thigh man because why not? He knows his are superior but he wants you to wrap your thighs around his neck.

Appreciates every part of your body like you're made by God himself.

You guys went out to a convenience store once at 3AM and bought one pack of each available condom brand.

YOU GUYS WENT CRAZY and slept around 5PM, LOL. His stamina is crazy. That wasn't all sex though. You had oral and non-penetrative. Let's say you didn't stop until all bought condoms were in the trash bin.

They have a beach rest house, yeah? And Shoyo's “phenomenal” story about having sex on the beach didn't leave his mind. He wanted to try it with you.

Of course, you guys blessed the whole house first with orgasms and moans. After the interior, he's ready to dominate you on the beach.

At first was alright. You had placed a big beach towel on the sand under the big rainbow beach umbrella. Y'all did foreplay and all that but then it felt weird because of the sand. Some might've got into you, LOL, SORRY.

Atsumu told Shoyo he's a liar and the latter didn't understand why he said that. Tsumu then explained his experience and Shoyo laughed so hard and said he was pertaining to the drink he had back in Brazil.

Tooru Oikawa

Don't fight me on this because I can't see Oikawa doing things other than vanilla sex and BDSM. I'm sorry. He's nowhere in between.

Kidding, he's into cross-dressing! He loses his shit when he sees you wearing tights. Foreplay who? He doesn't know it.

Hmm, you'd go out to buy outfits with a toy inside you or something. Likes the thrill of getting caught or when someone notices he's doing things.

HE'LL DO IT ANYWHERE as long as you're up for it too! He once fingered you senseless with his beautiful fingers behind the comfort room of a park and a ball stopped at your feet.

The kid then followed the ball and Oikawa was still into it, he went faster even and you couldn't contain your moans. You were panicking and he just laughed. You didn't notice he kicked the ball far enough so the kid won't see you.

You guys don't have sex so often even though he already has more than enough time for you because he realized overworking doesn't mean he'd achieve certain victory. He doesn't want you to feel like he's using you for venting purposes.

He wanted to try having sex in the shower for quite some time now. He actually asked you about your opinion in this matter and you were like.. sure, why not? What's the worst thing that could happen?

HE BUMPED HIS HEAD MULTIPLE TIMES. I'M SO SORRY I'M DOING THIS.

You see, he's used to having sex in cramped spaces — you did it in his car, gym's storage room, Harry Potter's cupboard. But in the shower? Both of you? AND DON'T MENTION THE WATER. Sex there was the worst.

You have an album entitled: Tooru's Nudes and Other Sexy Stuff. I won't entertain any questions.

Satori Tendou

You're pressed up against the big window of your shared complex overlooking the Eiffel Tower as Tendou's thrusts become sloppier by the second. Yes, I'll start with this for Tendou because he deserves everything.

Okay, we go to our Miracle Boy.. in this case, AN ATTRACTIVE MAN WITH SEX FINESSE AND EXPERTISE.

I'm not having my favorites, I swear. Tendou just knows what he's doing and what you're up to.

For example, you've been thinking about asking him to play with your ass and hours later mid-make-out session, he asks you if you'd let him play with your ass. Is he psychic or something? God, he's perfect.

It's either he has sex with you NAKED or FULLY-CLOTHED. Nope, there is nothing in between, ma'am/sir.

He likes the feeling of your rim squeezing him but he also likes it when theres a piece of clothing touching his dick while fucking you.

When I said fully-clothed, I mean even if you're wearing jeans. He'd just let it sit around your knees and he'd pull down his just enough to free his cock.

With that being elaborated, he loves fucking you in public. You guys had practiced the art of Not Getting Caught Having Sex in Public, yes, it's art.

This is weird and probably uncomfortable even just by thinking about it but he made you wear skinny jeans without underwear. Yes.

He wanted to cross that out of your guys'sex list (yes, he has a sex list on his phone and he adds something every day). KITCHEN SEX. FOOD PLAY. Oh, and he ripped your jeans. Haha, ripped jeans— RIPped jeans (LMAO, MY SENSE OF HUMOR IS QUESTIONABLE). Sorry, I had to say that.

SFW version here.

M. List

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spiritshaydra · 3 years

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Looks like I haven’t posted art here in months and this is my fourth time trying to add a description to this because it keeps getting purged whenever I switch tabs >:(

Anywho, here’s some Pokémon gijinkas I finished earlier in the week ^^

Additional info stolen from my amino post down below c:

Howdy!

This took me WAY longer than I thought it would. I started this group back in December, and only now just completed it ^^

I’ll be showing them off in the order I finished them along with some info on each character c:

✨Here they are!✨

🏙 Reshiram 🏙

She’s not as complex as the rest of the batch because she started off as just a headshot test and practice for drawing humans ^^’ then everything else kinda just got more complex. Her design is more of a work in progress than the rest.

She’s a living lie detector :)

🎆 Palkia 🎆

[

She took a LONG time to draw and is probably the most complex. Sorta. She’s also probably one of the first gijinkas I’ve designed so her design is pretty solid for now. She’s based off of Roman gladiators and Valkyries. Palkia is also a total jock with a short fuse that constantly gets in fights with her brother, Dialga. She’s kinda a loud idiot but that’s okay. She’s also very rash and tends to act before thinking. Will kick down doors and attempt to put brother in a headlock. Probably chugs sport drinks and punches drywall. Will challenge poor unfortunate souls into doing arm wrestling matches. Has very strong opinions on science fiction. (Stuff with space is superior!) Curses like a sailor and likes to get creative with insults. Cannot organize things at all. Room probably looks like a bomb went off. Has the worst handwriting in her family. Middle child and the shortest out of her siblings. Is uncomfortable around Giratina but feels bad about it.

🌄 Giratina 🌄

Giratina’s another one that I’ve had designed for a while and am pretty happy about it! I tried to give her a more inhuman and unsettling appearance (gaunt features, pale skin, sunken eyes, long limbs, digitigrade legs, four arms, etc) She’s pale from the lack of sunlight and her hair is borderline uncontrollable. It’s in a constant state of poofy rat’s nest.

Believe it or not, she’s probably the friendliest out of her family despite her off putting demeanor. She completely lacks social skills and is still trying to learn how to speak normally after being locked away for eons. She’s best friends with a Shaymin and has gardening as a hobby. She just really wants friends :( She likes stupid paranormal shows and animated movies. Not violent at all unless provoked. Absolutely fascinated by car windows and toasters. She’s the second tallest and the “baby” out of her family. She wishes to have better relations with her siblings and parent but struggles :(

🌺 Shaymin 🌺

Shaymin. Oh boy Shaymin. So with her I was wanting to do something completely different from the usual Lolita and cutesy based gijinkas. So I made her a punk :) Shay acts like she eats nails for breakfast and isn’t afraid to fight god. She’s short but by god, she’s going to go for the kneecaps. She has a nasty temper and is very protective of her strange noodly demon bestie. Taught her how to garden. She’s loud, argumentative, and ‘Tina’s siblings are probably more scared of her than the Terror of The Distortion World. Does not do well in cold weather. She rides a motorbike, and is the one who generally drags ‘Tina around to get her used to the normal world. Big fan of slasher films and loud aggressive music. Loves nature and is generally enthusiastic about funky plants.

Very short. Very aggressive. Wears stud covered platform boots.

🪐 Arceus 🪐

Oh boy. Arceus.

He was VERY hard to design but I think I’m happy with the results. For now. I wanted him to look somewhat regal and nasty, and not exactly human.

He’s a major asshole, prick, and elitist, and is petty to the highest degree. Got offended whenever someone suggests that he should go to an anger management class. Probably a Karen. He’s the type to wear a fluffy bathrobe while drinking box wine on a lawn chair on the porch to look scornfully at the neighbors whenever they get too close. Not a great parent. (Loves his gaggle of goblins in his own strange way) Kinda hates everyone. Rude. VERY VERY short temper. VERY stubborn. He’s short and is going to make it everyone else’s problem. (Refuses to just... change his height himself. ‘Cause he’s some primordial creation entity. He just... doesn’t) He woke up one morning and just chose violence. takes great pride in his creations. Awful taste in music. No sense of style. Cant dance. He’s offputting and unsettling to be around because he has a very “off” feeling about him. Really really likes to get the upper hand on others. There are a f e w times when he actually acts like a decent person. Likes to put an air of regality onto him even though he’s a total train wreck. Wears three to four inch heels.

🌌 Dialga 🌌

DIALGA. I also wanted to do something different with him! So I made him a nerd. He likes to take things apart and put them back together. Especially clocks. He’s more level headed than his sisters and has a longer fuse than Palkia. But he’s also very stubborn. He’s a total workaholic and perfectionist. He doesn’t sleep much and can be a nervous wreck whenever he’s behind on whatever schedule he runs on. He gets into fights with his younger sister a LOT and will often try to use her as a lab rat. They’re sorta like Yzma and Kronk. But he’s less diabolical and Palkia’s more aggressive. Like Palkia, He also has very strong opinions on science fiction (Stuff with time travel is WAY better!) he’s also very organized if not organized chaos. He wears a heavy pair of boots that one could hear from a mile away. Think large goth boots with metal in the soles somewhere. Also a metal head. He will blast loud metal or rock music (sometimes more classic rock. Depends on the mood) as he works on whatever insane project he decided to tinker on. He has a large collection of very cursed socks. Somewhat poor eyesight. Generally easier to get along with than Palkia who’s more abrasive. He tends to think more before acting upon things. Probably runs on entirely coffee and energy drinks. B A D taste in fashion. But not worse than Palkia. Likes to read. Not very good handwriting. Tends to bump his head on doorframes. Will walk into things if lost in thought. The tallest out of his family and the oldest out of his sisters. He’s somewhat afraid of ‘Tina.

Approximate Time Taken: About 27 hours

Program Used: Procreate

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floxalopex · 3 years

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Why, to me, Adora didn't solve her trauma. Or at least, it was supposed to be only about that. Spoiler: anti Catradora and anti Glimbow. Please, this are just my opinions. Don't wish my death. These ships are canon anyways so yhhhh you won, ok? Everything is fine 🌈

Yh, I'm doing this very depressing, very akward and inappropriate post at last. With of course, a lot of self-centered story nobody wants to hear because I need examples to explain emotions. Hi.

So. I don't hate Catra. I vibe with her a lot. But I can't stand when people erase Adora's trauma saying Catra's was worse. Everyone has the right to experience their own sorrow. Pain is a subjective feeling.

I was always the Catra while my sister was the Adora. I was the nd who needed to go to the psychotherapist causing my family to spend money, not to mention other healt problems. My sister doesn't even wear glasses. I took three attempts to get a stupid car license and still have panic attacks when I need to drive. My sister is a talented pilot. I was more good at school than her, but she was always better at living. And you can't change that with anything.

Still, I never hated her. Nor was I jelous. I awlays loved her and will always do. We are very different but we balance eachother. You may think that she got it easy. She didn't.

My parents are amazing. And I love them, they never raised a hand on me. But it was hard. It's hard to love a kid everyone depicts as "creepy", "not normal". But they did.

I watched the episode with Catra and Adora's childhood flashback with my sister. We had goosebumps. Before that I believed I was the only one suffering, while in reality I wasn't. It's not easy being the "golden child", "the normal one" either. My sister was so used to being referred as "the non weird one" that she developed a very closed personalty. She is a ray of sunshine, always smiling, but she won't tell anyone if she is feeling bad. She has to be perfect. She has to be all right all the time. I tell her to open up, at least with me, but it's not easy.

Trauma can have many faces. And honestely I blame myself I lot for having caused this to her. If only my parents weren't so focused on me and my so many problems that started since the day I was born (so far I risked to die at least 4 times) they wouldn't have had so much stress. They would have focused more on my sister. We talked about this and she says it's not my fault and honestely after so many years I want to believe her.

Adora has a post traumatic response. She has a martyr syndrome so strong she even feels that sacrifing herself is the normal course of actions. "You deserve love too" means that you also deserve to be heard. Your feelings matter.

Now. *Sighs*. I don't hate Catra, but I don't like Catradora at all.

Another sad story.

I never liked in my life the troupe of the "best friends" who grow up togheter and are supposed to be soulmates. I don't believe in destiny. There's no superior order in life.

I know there are many cute and real stories of couples who start and end togheter. Honestely some years ago I would have felt envious of them, now I fell like the freest of birds.

I had a childhood friend. He was born exately 20 days before me and, since our mothers were best friends, those were the only days in our first 10 years of life we were apart. We grow up togheter like brothers. Of course (of course, because eh you know, hormons, not destiny or whatever) we ended up having a relationship when little.

I didn't have so many friends and he made sure of that. He isolated me from everyone. He was possessive and mean. He was aggressive and now that he is old he is even a racist, sovranist, fascist, sexist and lots of other amazing qualities.

He was my first good diagnosis. Cushing syndrome. So yh, even if I'm super short he is shorter than me due to the therapy he has to endure. (By the gods, I generally don't mind physical appereance, I've even recentely found out I'm panromantic so yh, I don't care about gender either... but dam, can I have a partner taller than me? It's not even difficult.) Honestely, sickness apart...he is not so very good looking. Neither was I when little, I was very chubby. With the difference that I still saw beauty in him, but he never did. He mocked me with his friends. He said things like "If I don't love you who ever would? I've known you for so long, that's the reason why I tolerate you". I always stood by his side when people bullied him for his frail body structure or because he couldn't swim (which in Sicily it's almost a disability). He never did the same for me.

We broke up badly. I wasn't the one who left him but anyways. We don't even say hello to eachother.

I know by some relatives of his (who adored me) that is he depressed and lonely now.

It's... hard. Not to care for him. I know I shouldn't, I don't even want to. But the sentiment is there. I was never enough for him while he was everything for me. I don't love him, I would say I even hate him (and to make me hate someone you really must work very hard). But...hate is an emotion too right?...the point is that he will forever be a part of me. Even if I wish we never met in the first place.

Anyways.

I don't have positive opinions on Glimbow either. I love Glimmer but dam she is possessive. I like Bow but he should have been more true with his feelings and not end up with her only to please her. Choose Sea Hawk or Perfuma.

In a childhood relationship platonic love, habit, hormons, friendship meld togheter in a ...peculiar way. But let's be honest, we change with aging. We are not mature, we are not sensitive enough. Polite enough when little. We are not aware enough.

I'm monogamus yes, but at least sexually speaking. In reality you should have experiences. Know other people to know yourself better.

It, again, may be my bad and traumatic relationship speaking. But said relationship never gave me positive personal growth. It was rather toxic.

Adora, dear. Humanity is not lost. But you can't save everyone. Not by risking your own happiness. Caring for somebody deeply and having sexual attraction for them...isn't enough. And you too Catra. Let it go, there are people out there (cough cough Scorpia) who can and will give you the world if only you let them. Give others a chance. Maybe you are not in love with a person, but with the memory and the idea you had of them. People change, it's not theirs or your fault.

People leave and you don't own them.

Lastly yes, I will put the Entrapdak tag. Really not for visibility, I have more feet than followers (no, I'm not an octopus monster) and honestely I don't give a fuck. (Yhh mean Floxy). I'm just here to say emberassing things and be a stupid fucking nerd.

*inhales*.

Entrapdak=the love of my life. The relationship between two adults. Two people who didn't know eachother and passed puberty (...Hordak baby, you there?) a LONG time ago.

Two people who reason with their minds and not entirely with their hormons. I'm clapping while typing.

No drama, no doubts. I could talk for hours but honestely this no sense is already a pain in the gut of everyone who reads so far.

#anti Catradora #anti Glimbow #Entrapdak #my love #Adora #baby #be more gentle with yourself

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ladyofmaidensandwine · 4 years

Text

Day 8

Day 8 of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Ellen Harvelle

Warnings- Classic Rock. Insult it, and face my wrath.

Prompt- “Can I call you?”

Wordcount- 1,345

Humming the tune of AC/DC’s Girl’s Got Rhythm you served up drinks and polished glasses efficiently. Ellen’s Roadhouse saw plenty of traffic, most of which was hunters looking for a way to celebrate a success, or mourn a failure. You yourself were a well-known hunter, specifically for the kill-count record you held as the undefeated heavyweight champ of werewolf slaying, but you liked to work at Ellen’s bar when you took breaks from tracking down another fanged and furred beast. You didn’t even realize you were still humming the classic rock song as you poured a glass of whiskey for a man you hadn’t really looked at, but he did.

“AC/DC, huh? Didn’t take you for a fan.” The man said, voice low, smooth, and making you snap your eyes his way. “Sorry, I forget I’m even doing it.” You laughed. “Wait, if you’re on of those people who diss AC/DC, I’m going to advise you to get a drink from a different bartender.” You said seriously, eyes narrowed at the man. You took advantage of his brief surprise to give him a once-over. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, and with a jawline that could cut diamonds, and bloody hell, those eyes. Too bad he hated good music. “What, you kiddin’? I mean, they’re no Led Zeppelin, but they’re a classic!” He scoffed, as though even suggesting he disliked rock offended him deeply. “That’s not a fair comparison considering Stairway to Heaven is the greatest rock song ever written, but I’ll let it slide.” You winked, the green-eyed man giving you a toothy and crooked grin. “Where the hell have you been my whole life?” Green-eyes grinned, extending a hand. “Name’s Dean.” “Y/N. So, ignoring your misguided opinion that Led Zeppelin is better than AC/DC, what else do you like?” You asked.

You and Dean talked and laughed for the better part of three hours, swapping favourite songs and bands, and testing each other’s rock knowledge. “A ‘67 Impala? Damn. My baby’s a ‘57, Bel Air. Got the white wall tires and everything.” You shared,Dean whistling in admiration. “Sounds like a beauty. You’re an awesome chick, Y/N. Sweet ride, good taste, in music and men,” Dean winked as you rolled your eyes, “and you’re a hunter.” “A what?” You asked, deciding teasing him could be fun. Dean turned pale. “Oh shit- uh, y’know, I thought you were-” “I am. I didn’t tell my last name, did I? Y/N L/N, werewolf huntress extraordinaire.” You bowed dramatically, Dean breaking into relieved laughter. “Jesus, woman, tryin’ to give me a heart attack, or what? Really got me for a minute. I’m Dean Winchester, by the way. Started-the-apocalypse-on-accident-and-died-a-million-times Dean Winchester.” He joked. You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “Man, the stories I’ve heard about you...” You trailed off, Dean nodding his head. “Yeah, well, I can tell ya hunters tend to exaggerate.” He waved dismissively. “Oh no, you’re not escaping this one so easily. I wanna hear the real story. C’mon, Dean, I’ll even bring you whiskey on me.” You winked. Dean groaned aloud. “You play dirty, sweetheart. How am I supposed to say no to that face and free whiskey?” Dean complained.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You said at last, somewhat stunned by Dean’s story. “No kiddin’.” He chuckled. “Well, now that I’ve spilled my guts to you, it’s your turn. What does Y/N L/N like besides cool cars, good music- Led Zeppelin is totally better, by the way, but I won’t argue- and my favourite brand of scotch?” Dean questioned, leaning forwards with a smirk. “I had a normal childhood, actually. Started hunting when I was 20, after a werewolf got my parents. I’m an only child, so dropping out of college and starting to hunt seemed like the best way to do it, and I didn’t have a brother to talk me out of it. I met Ellen Harvelle a year later, and she took me in, taught me everything I needed to know, gave me a home.” You said, smiling at the older woman at the other end of the bar. “And I work here when I can. That’s really all there is to it.” You shrugged. “I ain’t buyin’ that for a minute, but you can tell me the rest of the story next time.” Dean said with a deadpan face. “Next time? You plannin’ on a next time, Winchester?” You asked teasingly, arching your brow. Dean leaned in with a mischievous look to his emerald green eyes. “If I say drinks are on me, do my chances go up?” He asked. “Drinks were on you either way, but you’re lucky you’re cute.” You winked. “It is one of my finest qualities. Y’know, after my superior taste in bands.” Dean shrugged cockily. You swatted his shoulder with a glare. “Keep insulting AC/DC and this fine ass is marching itself far away from you.” You threatened. Dean donned a frightened face.”I’m sorry, I swear! You wouldn’t be so cruel as to hit a man’s pride, would ya, sweetheart?” He pouted. “Way I see it, you’ve got enough pride for the both of us, but I do like free drinks, so you’re off the hook for now.” You smiled. “Thank God.” Dean sighed dramatically.

You were busy after that, but made your way back to Dean when you could. “Hey, Winchester.” You greeted. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m actually headed out now. Got a hunt tomorrow.” Dean said apologetically. “Oh, alright. Next time you’re in town, you owe me a drink, though.” You reminded, a smile playing across Dean’s plump lips. “Will do. Before I go, could I get your number? So you know when I’m in town?” Dean asked, looking nervous, but hiding it well. You smiled softly back at him. “Sure thing, Winchester.” You agreed, his eyes widening slightly like he’d expected a different response before you punched your digits into his phone. Dean grinned back at you and pocketed his phone.

“Can I call you? Just to talk, maybe convince you Zeppelin’s a better band?” Dean raised a brow, giving you a lopsided smirk that made him even more attractive. “My mind is set, but yeah, you’d better call. Now, get outta here, before one of us does something stupid.” You teased. “Like what?” “You can’t expect me to not want to kiss you when you look at me like that.” You scoff, inwardly surprised by your own boldness. Dean’s broad smile grew even brighter, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Then I guess I’m gonna have to keep looking at you like that.” He retorted, leaning in. You gave him a cocky smirk of your own, and closed the distance between you.

The kiss was maybe a bit more passionate than was appropriate, but you blamed it on him for looking like an actual Greek God. Dean’s stubble was rough on your hands and cheeks, but you didn’t mind, and he tasted like the whiskey you’d served him, and something uniquely Dean. He wasn’t soft, per se, but he was gentle, letting you make the moves and take the lead, though it was clear he was holding himself back. Just when you tilted your head slightly, your logical brain caught up with you, and you realized you were making out in a crowded bar the woman you saw as a surrogate mother owned with a man you’d met that night. Pulling away quickly, you placed a hand on Dean’s heaving chest. “I would very much like to continue this, but the bar is not the best place, and I, unfortunately, am not off of work.” You explained with a sigh. “Gives me more reason to come back sooner.” Dean winked, looking just as flustered as you did. “Make it real soon, Dean.” “Will do, sweetheart.” Dean gave you a last kiss and a flirty smile, and walked out of the Roadhouse.

“Not that I’m not supportive of your datin’ life, but maybe not in my bar, hon.” “Sorry, Ellen. It’s his fault for bein’ so damn attractive.” “Mhm. That’s what they all say.”

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting

#ibw: hello spring 2020 #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #y/n

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mushroomjar · 3 years

Note

For the ask thingy: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 13, 30

Hey there! 4 and 9 have already been answered in this post (x). As for the rest...

1: Favorite place in your country?

Cliché, but true! The Iguazú falls! I travelled there for my fifteenth birthday and they were marvelous! And the animals there were so cute lol I saw a squirrel there for the first time. I also really like San Luis! A very beautiful province if you ask me

5: Favorite song in your native language?

I very unfortunately don't listen to many songs in Spanish, which I am very disappointed by lol I do have some songs in Spanish I really really like but I could not for the life of me tell you their names or the names of the band/singers, because I don't remember them. Sorry! Disappointing answer, I know lol

10: Most enjoyable swear word in your language?

Look, all insults in Spanish are superior, okay? They simply are. Carajo is very fun in my opinion lol But I would lie if I said "la puta madre" isn't my most frequent go-to insult.

13: Does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

I can name a few, but I don't know how strange they actually sound! They just sound normal to me. Like, putting a two pesos bill under your plate of ñoquis to bring abundance in money (although ñoquis are gross, but you didn't hear it from me lol), or trying a red string of lace or something to your car's patente for safe travels.

Oh! If you see a black cat cross your path from left to right, it's good luck. If, however, you see it cross your path from right to left, that's bad luck. And if you see it go right then backwards? I pity you lol God forbid that happens in a cemetery

Finally, living people should not have statues made of them, because then Death will see them and assume you have died, and you'll die within the week. This one's my favorite lol

30: Do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

Almost all of my family is from Argentina (yay!), but two of my cousins are Spanish

Thanks for sending this ask!

#ask #asks #anon #latine #argentina #ask game #cat rambles

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khataabehangel · 3 years

Text

yasser aldurra

If you are reading this, it is because you searched the name, “Yasser Aldurra” in order to get to know him better. You want to dig up some dirt on him to see if he’s really the “good guy” that he claims to be. I am here to tell you, that if he asks for you, stay the hell away from him at all costs.

If you are here because you are searching for him as a doctor, I don’t know anything about that. I have no idea how he is as a physician. This post is strictly about him as a romantic partner. You won't find any reviews for him here so move along; this isn't for you.

For everyone else who is here because he asked for you for marriage... let me introduce myself. I am someone that met him for just a few days. We spoke to each other with the intention to get married. I have never bashed anyone after getting to know them, but he is such a liar and a bad person, that I felt like it is my duty to warn girls about him. Most of this stuff I picked up on because he never shuts up and he accidentally revealed too much about himself without realizing it. The rest I found out after things ended between us. When I first met him, I really thought that he was perfect, and I couldn't find anything wrong with him. Let’s just say that I was very wrong about that....

Here are some takeaway points if you don’t want to read this entire post:

he has actual narcissistic personality disorder and ALL the characteristics associated with that disorder

He’s insanely cheap and has lied about how much he makes (even if you don’t ask)

he’s a liar

everything he tells you is a lie.even things that don’t seem like lies, are lies. don’t believe anything he says. he twists the truth and gives half-truths to make things seem more plausible and believable even though they are lies.

HE NEVER SHUTS UP. HE TALKS SO MUCH AND HE’LL NEVER LET YOU GET A WORD IN

he’s manipulative

his “deen” is so incredibly flawed, and it is not the correct Islam that me and you follow.

he sees women as being inferior to men, and that men should control women and be the person in charge of the relationship. That men have the final say in all matters and that their opinion is more valid than the woman’s.

He’s able to fake being a certain way until he gets comfortable enough to reveal his true self that he hides behind his façade

he has no friends.

HES A GUY WITH NO FRIENDS. HOW MANY GUYS DO YOU KNOW THAT DONT HAVE ANY FRIENDS?! I don’t freaking know any! he’s so intolerable that even guys don’t like being around him.

has no social skills

easily offended by EVERYTHING

his ego is as fragile as glasshe does not fight fair. if he gets hurt by something that you said, even if it was unintentional, he will say something exponentially more hurtful back to you as a defense mechanism. it’s not healthy.

he will never answer your questions directly.

he will rush you to get married. he’ll use his age as the reason, but it’s really so that he traps you before you realize how trash he actually is.

he doesn't understand how to pace a relationship and will talk to you as if you've been together for years even if it’s just been a few days. He will rush you to move things forward even though you just met. When you refuse or say you need more time, he will try to make you feel guilty about it.

He constantly plays the role of the victim

He will try to make you feel sorry for him as a way to constantly control you and make things your fault, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.

He’s ridiculously controlling

he’s disrespectful as hell, and will even be disrespectful to your parents and your family

he doesn't understand boundaries or when to stop doing something, even if you ask him directly.

he is extremely blunt and hurtful

his expectations for marriage are unrealistic and unachievable. the girl he’s looking for doesn't exist in this century

he’s been through some traumatic things in his life that he’s never gotten past and it has heavily influenced how he is today. He needs some serious therapy, but ironically he’ll never get it because he thinks he’s perfect and doesn’t see anything wrong with himself.

he is childish and immature, even at 36 years old.

his mom. he worships her. their relationship is SO weird. he will tell his mom about everything that you have talked about.his mom expects to live with him in the future

even though he lives alone, he never took the time to teach himself how to cook

he cannot care for himself at any capacity and expects other people to do it for him.

He is racist

he has a hard time understanding new things that he is unfamiliar with. even things that are common sense, he struggles with.

he will belittle you and your knowledge, to make himself feel better about not understanding something. He will also go into an insane level of detail about a random topic, and when you change the subject, he goes back to it. If you ask him to move on from it, he won’t

He will control every conversation that you will ever have. He will do it slowly, and you won’t realize it until one day when you get a text from him, and you become disgusted with the idea of talking to him.

He is extremely opinionated, and any opinion that you have that disagrees with his beliefs, he will argue about it with you forever.

He says everything that he is thinking, no matter how inappropriate it is.

He has no filter. Although he lies like crazy about his past and his flaws, he is extremely honest about his expectations and how he wants you to treat him. This normally would be a good thing, except for the fact that he expects to be treated like some sort of god.

he’s insanely judgmental and not understanding. Anything that you share about yourself will somehow get thrown back in your face and used against you.

Gets angry at the stupidest, smallest things and will make things into a bigger deal than they actually need to be

He gets mad very quickly, and he doesn’t forgive or forget easily. You basically have to kiss his ass for him to forgive you for the “thing” that you did “wrong”, which is usually something stupid. He does this as a way to gaslight and control you.He will create issues out of thin air just to control your behavior and how you treat him.

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

Yeah......................... you should run for the hills. Do me a favor though and don’t tell him about this post. just say that you are not interested without giving a reason.

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

First of all, he is not as religious as he claims to be.

He claims to have memorized a large part of the Quran and he knows countless ahadeeth, but in reality, he only knows enough to quote it out of context to make whatever backwards argument that he is trying to make seem valid. He will use religion as the main source to back up all of his very twisted, and extremely unIslamic beliefs. He also uses it as a shield to defend himself in almost every situation. He also misquotes the ayah in surah an-nissa to convince you that men are supposed to control women, even though that’s not what that ayah means. He bends ayahs and takes them out of context just so he can use a strong source like the Quran to back up his weird, and twisted beliefs that have nothing to do with what the Quran is ACTUALLY saying (because he’s taking things out of context and interpreting them how he likes). Also, he mostly uses this to sell you the idea that he’s “a good guy”. Do not buy it. Do. not. buy. it. it is a lie. People that are actually religious do not do the things that he does or twist Islam to suit them. Islam gives clear instruction to men that they are the CAREGIVERS of woman. They are responsible for taking care of them, for spending on them, and for the other responsibilities that the girl’s parents had before she married that guy. They are not the “controllers” of women. Instead, they should be the leaders in the relationship because they have a bigger responsibility.

Secondly, and more importantly, he is a complete liar and this stems from the fact that he is a narcissist. I do not say this lightly. If you look up the DSM-5 definition of it, he fits the criteria perfectly. What is narcissism?

Narcissistic personality disorder — one of several types of personality disorders — is a mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

A narcissistic personality disorder causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with narcissistic personality disorder may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling, and others may not enjoy being around them.

Signs and symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder

People with the disorder can:

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Exaggerate achievements and talents

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

Take advantage of others to get what they want

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

At the same time, people with narcissistic personality disorder have trouble handling anything they perceive as criticism, and they can:

Become impatient or angry when they don't receive special treatment

Have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

Feel depressed and moody because they fall short of perfection

Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

There’s a lot to unpack here. I know it’s a lot, but if you’re still reading this, it’s probably because 1) you are Yasser (hi!) you are so full of yourself that you googled yourself and got here or 2) you were actually considering moving forward with this guy, but you are now concerned (as you should be).

Let’s start with the inflated sense of their own importance.

He will talk about his achievements for hours if you let him. In general, he never shuts up or gives you the chance to speak. He has exaggerated so many of his achievements. The one most memorable to me was the fact that he claimed to have “two board certifications, and two specialties”. like... okay.... most doctors who have a specialty also are board certified in internal medicine... you're not special. He talks so much about how “hard” he worked to get to where he is today as if the people around him are just sitting on their asses doing nothing. He bragged forever about all the places that offered him a fellowship.. which ironically were only a handful. I did not feel like he was being honest about his job offers at all. and if he was, then he’s a complete dumbass for turning them down because the offer he ended up choosing was apparently a lot worse, according to him. so, he’s either a liar, or a dumbass... or both.

on that note: he would frequently bring up the topic of money and he overemphasized how “little” money he makes. Apparently, this is because he did not want people to take advantage of him, including the person he’s getting to know for freaking marriage. any idiot on the street will tell you that a doctor in this country, that has a specialty, and is working in a private practice makes well over $250-$350k MINIMUM. He kept saying how little money he made even though I never asked him about it or even mentioned it. Everything that he told me regarding the topic of money revolved around an idea from the Quran that is taken completely out of context: “a person who overspends is the friend of the devil” (misquoting the Quran and failing to mention the next ayah on how God does not like people who are excessively stingy).

He set an exact budget on how much money he thinks is okay to spend on certain items like cars, shoes, shirts, electronics, and even things like the heating bill. He made it clear which stores he likes to shop at (they were stores like kohl's and jc penny). It’s fine to have a budget and be smart with your money. But it’s not fine to ask the girl that you are getting to know how many shoes she owns, what stores she buys her clothes from, and then blatantly tell her that the places she shops are “too expensive” for him and that she can get clothes from Kohl’s and JC Penny like him. She can shop wherever the hell she wants to shop and spend however much she wants to spend. She didn’t get those things by using your wallet. You are just getting to know each other. Chill the fuck out. Just because he has a specific budget for how much he thinks it’s okay to spend on things, we weren’t even together, and he was already controlling and judging me for my spending habits. And just to be clear, I don’t even shop frequently, or at stores that are absurdly overpriced. To hide the fact that he is so cheap, he then said “I don’t want you to think that I’m cheap. I donate a lot of my money to people in need.” A person who is not cheap doesn't need to say that they are not cheap.

For someone who speaks so highly of his achievements and success, it’s surprising that he constantly talks about how poor he is and how little money he spends.

I think we should talk about his biggest lie: what occurred in his past relationship.

Everything that he says is a lie, or some sort of twisted version of the truth. When I met him, he told me that he was divorced, which is true. But he made out his ex to be the shittiest person imaginable. He claimed that she was a “narcissist” (wow, projecting much?!). He also told me that he was the one who decided to end things with her, and that he “tried so hard to make it work but she was just very stubborn, controlling, and made him fear being around her.” He “didn’t feel safe around her.” When I asked him to clarify what he meant by that, he didn’t elaborate. It sounded like he was taking the words of his ex and using them to play the victim.

she apparently also wasn't there for him emotionally (which is imo impossible because he’s soooooooo goddamn needy, I can’t even imagine anyone even being able to fulfill this to be honest). He said that she didn’t pray, and he somehow didn’t pick up on this during their engagement!?! what a lie. whenever he would mention his engagement with her and all the “red flags” that he missed, he would always say, “I only blame myself, I’m dumb” trying to play the victim. worst of all.... he said that they were together only 6 months. Later on, I found out that they were together for TWO YEARS. I don’t know how the hell she managed to stay with his needy, controlling ass for 2 years, but may God reward her for what she endured. I couldn’t talk to him for more than a few days, I can’t imagine being with him for a few years. He bragged about how he paid her whatever was left of her mahr (dowry) and the class that she took when they ended things. He made it seem like his ex came from a very humble and simple family that was not very well-off financially, and that her dowry was A LOT.

I also found out that he was CRAZY controlling. His ex was apparently a super white and beautiful blonde. If they were in public and her sleeve came up a little to reveal her wrist, he would lose his shit. He was unbelievably jealous.

When they were signing the papers to get married, her parents, (who I found out later from someone.. are actually insanely well-off because her dad is a successful af businessman), didn’t ask for any mahr (dowry) because they trusted that his career as a physician is promising and that he would take care of their daughter. The person writing the papers said that they had to put down a number, because Islamically, it is the right of the girl to receive a gift from her new husband. So, someone in the room suggested $5,000. Not only did he agree to this ridiculously low number, but never even offered more when it was suggested. He just accepted it and moved on because he’s so cheap. Just for some perspective, I know that mahr can start anywhere from $10K-$15 and be as high as $50-$100K depending on how well off the guy is. This guy is a freaking doctor which means he makes that in like a week or so... Even as a resident or a fellow, that’s pocket change.

anyway. Her father got her a freaking brand-new Audi as a wedding gift, and her new husband gave her the promise of $5,000 after they get married... LOL.

so, when he was “bragging” about paying off her dowry when they ended things, I really thought it was a huge sum of money. it wasn't.

How he deals with his finances is really none of my business. I only mentioned it here because he would constantly mention it and emphasize that he didn’t want anyone (including his future wife) to take advantage of him. I could care less about how much money he makes because even though I never told him this (mostly because he never shuts up and I never got the chance to tell him about it), I am independently wealthy from a business that I opened up a few years ago. I am completely financially independent from my parents.

Although I never cared about his finances at ALL, it’s important to know that in Islam, a husband MUST spend on his wife. He MUST treat her well. and he MUST care for her and her finances. It’s his duty. Whatever money she makes, belongs to her. And whatever she wants to spend or save, is up to her. She can work full-time and save every penny that she has if she wants, WHILE HE SPENDS ON HER. She doesn't have to give him a cent of the money she makes (unless she wants to). AND even if she is working and she makes her own money HE STILL has to spend on her, and on the things that she needs while she saves her money or spends her money in the way that she wants. In Islam the husband MUST SPEND ON HIS WIFE. AND SHE CAN CHOOSE TO WORK AND SAVE HER MONEY IF SHE WANTS. AND IF SHE DOESN’T WANT TO WORK, SHE HAS THAT OPTION, AND HE STILL HAS TO SPEND ON HER. WHETHER SHE WORKS OR NOT, HE HAS TO SPEND ON HER. anyway. that’s why I mentioned it. I don’t care about it, I just listed it just in case anyone that’s reading this does care about it so that they know what they're getting into. Go back and read the symptoms of narcissism that I included above. It literally mentions that people with this disorder have issues with their money. This has absolutely nothing to do with Islam, and everything to do with him and his condition. He just uses Islam to back up his twisted viewpoints by misquoting things and taking them out of context.

And Islamically, just so you know, God does not like those who are cheap with their wealth. He loves those that are generous with the money that He blessed them with. And He loves those that spend on their families. Those that have wealth and are able to afford more, are expected to spend more on mahr when they get married. THAT’S what the Quran says in surah baqara at the end of the second juz when the topic of marriage, engagement, and divorced are mentioned. So even if he was using Islam as an excuse to protect his money from his wife, he’s literally wrong and it doesn’t say that anywhere. In fact, in a hadith, it is mentioned that if someone’s husband is not spending enough on her and her kids to take care of them, she is allowed to take whatever money she needs from him without his knowledge or his permission.

His past relationship tells you everything you really need to know about him. For example, everything that he complained about his ex, were things that he does. He uses the exact character flaws in him that ended his marriage as being the character flaws that his ex had. For example, he is clearly a narcissist. You can pick up on this up within just a few conversations with him. Yet, he claimed that his wife was a narcissist, and she has all of the negative characteristics of one.

He claimed that she was controlling in the relationship, yet he has extreme controlling behavior. If I didn’t talk to him or give him attention for an entire day because I was at work, he would lose his shit. He would be passive aggressive then progressively more and more aggressive until I asked him what was wrong. Then he would lash out at me as if we’ve been in a relationship for years and I did something majorly wrong, even though I didn’t. Every free moment that I had was apparently to be dedicated only to him. If I wanted to go out and I mentioned that I was leaving my house, he would start a fight just so that I could stay home and “fix” things with him. Let me remind you that I only spoke to him for a few days..... we were not a couple at any capacity, so he had no right to do this. It was extremely manipulative behavior. I was constantly gaslighted by him. I would find myself apologizing to him very frequently, and most of the time I didn’t even know why. Everything that I said to him was offensive, even though it really wasn't. For example, I mentioned the word “FOB” once to describe someone, and he was so offended by it, even though it wasn't directed at him and I didn’t say it in a derogatory manner.

Back to his ex. He claimed that she never prayed and that this was the main cause of him wanting to end things... but the entire time that I was with him, he never mentioned how frequently he prays, even when I asked him about it directly. He claimed to be super religious, but I never saw that in his worship at all (but also, only God knows that so I can’t judge him for that.. I’m just saying what I noticed). He didn’t really make time for extra ibada. Which would be totally fine if he didn’t try so hard to sell himself as being “good and religious.” The entire time we spoke he kept saying how he was religious and how he wanted a religious wife. I also never saw that in his character. I never saw that with how he spoke to and about others. He looked down on everyone that wasn't from the same background as him or had the same education as himself. He was very disrespectful of others. I found that it mostly stems from his ignorance and intolerance of other cultures.

He said some really disturbing things about immigrants coming here and mooching off of the system. That they are basically living off of the taxes that he pays. Even though he is an immigrant himself, he didn’t believe that they deserve the same opportunities and chances that he got. He firmly believed that everything he has now was earned by him, and that he worked hard for it. It never crossed his mind that he was given a chance by people who stood up and fought for those rights and opportunities for immigrants. He always saw himself as someone who was “self-made.” He was extremely oblivious to the fact that he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did, had it not been for those same opportunities that he didn’t think the other immigrants deserve. He was very arrogant.

His social interactions:

I heard from someone this crazy story about a girl he was getting to know:

He suggested that she and he go out to some restaurant to eat. After they finished dinner, he INSISTED that they get dessert. She said she was full, and she wasn’t interested in getting anything, but he kept insisting over and over until she finally said yes. She chose a brownie or something that she liked. And he didn't freaking order anything. He suggested that they share because she needs to be watching what she eats. Apparently what she chose was too many calories for her or something.

SHE DIDNT EVEN WANT DESSERT IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND WHEN SHE GOT IT YOU TOLD HER IT WAS TOO MANY CALORIES FOR HER!? It boggles my mind how hypocritical he is. Everything he says and does is carefully planned so that he can tear down someone’s self-esteem and self-worth just to make himself seem better. I interpreted this story as him being too cheap to get two desserts. He obviously wanted something, and he wanted to overcompensate for his cheapness by insisting that she gets something so she thinks that he’s doing this out of generosity. This way, he only has to pay for one dessert because he can suggest later that they share it. Also, the fact that she ordered what she wanted makes it seem like she's in control of the situation, but then he gaslights her. In order to get her half of the dessert, he can’t just ask to share. Instead, he uses it as an opportunity to take a jab at her self-esteem so that she questions herself. It’s actually kind of complex for someone as stupid as him. He’s crazy manipulative and controlling like that. It’s the only way he knows how to interact with people, really.

When I asked him about people in his community and the friends he has there, he was EXTREMELY defensive. This was honestly the biggest red flag for me. I asked because if we were to get married, I have to move to where he is, because he refused to move to where I am. I wanted to make sure that there is some sort of community around us that we can interact with. I wanted to know if I could build new friendships and relationships with people there. AND I wanted to know how likable he is, because from everything I saw in the few days that we spoke, he was very intolerable. I wanted to know if it was because he was always like that or if something was going on with him. I think it is a pretty fair way to gauge someone’s general demeanor. Everyone I know has AT LEAST one friend. People that don’t have friends usually don’t for a reason. Either they keep their distance from others, or others have a reason to keep their distance from them. In most cases, it’s a red flag about that person. But in some circumstances, it’s really not that person’s fault and there is nothing specifically wrong with them. So, I had to make sure for myself.

If a guy has no friends, he will automatically expect you to spend all of your time with him. He won't understand or accept you casually going out with the girls or having them come over. Also, in general, guys don’t have as much drama as girls. Even if a guy is a complete scumbag, other guys will find something about him that they like, and they will generally get along. That’s just how guys are. They're all chill with each other, even if they don’t know each other well, or at all.

So, when I asked him this question and he got extremely defensive, I knew something was wrong. He claimed that the guys by him didn’t invite him anywhere because he isn't married. Everyone in his community is apparently married, and according to him, he was outcasted because of his relationship status. ...which doesn't make any sense. I’ve never heard of this being an issue for anyone, guy or girl. At least in my community, single guys and girls all get invited to married-people events. I know this, because I get invited to those events.

Basically, he has no friends. He doesn't even keep in touch with his old roommates or classmates. He doesn't really talk to his sisters either. That’s why this question was so triggering and offensive. Even though it’s not an offensive question at all. “tell me about the community there and your friends.” Literally nothing wrong with it...

He’s a loser. I hate to say this, but he really is.

The only person that he talks to every day is his mom. And to be honest, she's not the best role model for him. That leads me to my next major point.

His mom

She basically made up a very elaborate fabricated story about her and her son and how she hasn't been able to find him a wife for some fake reason. It was a complete sob story told to a rishta auntie so that she can hook him up with some girls. Every part of that story was fake and was told in a specific way to shift blame from the trash that is her son and to also to instill empathy for them. If she got your number, most likely this is how she did it.

The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree. She’s just as much as a liar as her son, if not more. I wouldn't be surprised if she taught him all of the manipulative things that he says and does as well as all the lies that he spews.

That’s not even why I mentioned her. The main issue you need to be concerned about is the fact that he’s in his freaking late thirties and she still has complete control over him. Their relationship is not healthy at all. Because she is the only person that he talks to, he tells her everything. And I really do mean everything, without any exaggeration.

Absolutely nothing off limits for what he shares with her, including private conversations with you. He will share EVERYTHING with his mom, no matter how personal it is and no matter how much you ask him to keep it to himself. and if it is something bad, he will use it against you later on and make you feel bad about it and judge you for it. everything that you have shared about yourself with him in private, he has already told his mom about. They have already discussed it, and they have already made the decision on whether or not they want to blow it out of proportion.

If what you shared about yourself or your life interferes, in anyway, with the plan that they have in mind for him... your issue will be exposed. For example, if you want to wait a year or two before having kids, this interferes with his plan to have kids immediately after marriage. HE WILL NOT TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS DIRECTLY. Instead, he will act like he is 100% okay with it and seem completely supportive of your decision. If you ask if he has a problem with it, he will lie and say no. Then after you hang up, he will call his mom immediately afterward, then tell her everything that you told him. THEN she won't even call your mom to complain... she will first call the rishta auntie that gave them your moms number and ASK ABOUT YOU even if the lady doesn't know you. The thing that you shared with him in private, and he said he was okay with, has now reached two other people without your knowledge. After his mom talks to the rishta auntie and tells her about this “world-ending issue” that has come to light...that lady will tell her that she doesn't even know you well enough to give any advice (about something that’s not her freaking business). then she’ll tell his stupid mom to take it up with your mom. So, within 20 hours of talking to him about a private matter that you both seemingly clearly agreed on... your mom will get a phone call from his complaining about it and how that’s not what he wants.

This “guy” is so emasculated by his mother, that he can’t even stand up for himself. It’s so pathetic. She has to speak on his behalf.

Sometimes it is okay for parents to step in because they handle sensitive situations more delicately and in an eloquent way. But for him, EVERYTHING was a sensitive situation, and he didn’t know how to handle any of it on his own. the worst part is that his mom is a complete bitch. She was SO rude when she was speaking to my mom. She was unnecessarily aggressive in her speech and in her tone. Like if she was at least able to handle things like a normal person, it would've been acceptable. But she was literally this biggest bitch I've ever met. I’ve never had a guy’s mom talk to mine in such rude way. It’s no wonder why he acts like such a baby, why everything offends him, and why he expects everything to go his way all the time. They literally think that just because he’s a doctor, that he needs to be worshipped and that the world revolves around him.

This happened several times when I was getting to know him during those few days. I eventually learned that there are absolutely secrets between them. Everything you tell him will reach his mom, and she will share it with the third party that got you guys in touch. I’m honestly not surprised that he shared everything I told him with her. It actually makes perfect sense.

You must understand that they have a very weird relationship for a reason. You are not just going to marry him... you are also marrying his mom. That’s one of the reasons that she has to know you so well. One of his conditions is that you have to be okay with her living with you guys. He is adamant about this. He has a room for her in his place for when she comes to visit, but she's planning on moving in permanently. But yea, his mom has fully reinforced his toxic behavior and expectations. It’s perfectly okay to live with your spouse’s parents. But it’s not okay for them to learn everything about you, and for you to not have any privacy with your spouse. I blame his trash character on her and her Karen-ness.

On that note..

His trash character

If he hasn't shown this to you yet, because he is still on his “fake” persona that he puts up early in the relationship.. then heed my warning. Strap yourself in for the hell that you are about to experience (or have already experienced).

Expect him in the beginning to “love-bomb” you. meaning, he will overly praise and admire you all the time. He will put u on a pedestal and tell you that you are the best person in the world. that if he ends up with you he will be the luckiest guy ever. You are perfect in every way, and everything that you have done is a huge achievement (even if it’s something basic). He will list out all of the things that he loves and adores in you. this will come literally the second time you talk lol. He’ll act crazy obsessed with you.

BUT..... he is ONLY doing this because 1 of 2 things are about to happen. The first is that he is craving for you to admire him in a similar manner. He is literally teaching you how he wants you to praise him (all the time btw). He wants you to compliment him back. Everything that he said is straight up just him fishing for a compliment. Don’t give him one. You don’t need to. Just general advice: you don’t owe a guy anything for what he does. If you want to compliment him on something you genuinely like, go for it. But NEVER feel obligated to compliment a guy just because he complimented you. It’s okay to just say “thank you” and accept it.

The second, is actually really scary. This is a tactic that narcissists used when trying to trap someone. Remember the term I used earlier, love-bombing? Well, this is actually a tactic that narcissists use in their cycle of abuse. It’s not healthy to have such strong feelings towards someone you just met. But that’s how he’ll talk to you. If you want to learn more about what I’m talking about, read this article to get a better idea: https://www.healthline.com/health/love-bombing#soulmate-claims

Eventually he will start gaslighting you. Making you question yourself. making you feel like everything that you say and do is offensive to him. You will start apologizing to him for stupid things.

Out of all the lies that he told, he was ironically very honest about his uncontrollable anger. He gets angry, UNBELIEVABLY quickly and about EVERYTHING. If something goes wrong, it is the end of the world for him. He lashes out immediately, in a very rude and disrespectful way (...does this remind you of someone........? if you said his mom, good job!). Just like a bratty little kid lashes out disrespectfully at people around them when they don’t get their way... this guy is the same way. If he is “offended” by something... which is literally everything. Everything that freaking offends him.. he lashes out. If it is an issue that deals directly with his future with you, and his bratty behavior is not applicable, that’s when his mom is involved.

Yasser, if you are reading this, please grow the fuck up. you are in your late thirties, stop acting like a prepubescent dickless little boy who's balls haven't dropped. You are a grown ass man, act like it. Real men don’t have their moms listening in on every conversation, fighting their every battle, and being their only friend. Real men deal with their issues in a calm and respectful way, not by disrespecting the other person, projecting their issues onto them, and purposefully saying something mean to hurt them because they apparently hurt you. grow the fuck up.

You need therapy to deal with your mommy and daddy issues. You need therapy to deal with your textbook case of narcissism. you need therapy so that you can stop being such a shitty person so that maybe one day, someone other than your mom will love you.

I’m glad I met you, because you were the absolute worst person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Now I know exactly what to avoid with future guys that I meet, and I also have the comfort of knowing that no one will ever be as horrible as you.

If you don’t plan on bettering yourself after seeing this, I hope that if you do get married that you end up with someone who deserves you because they are just as shitty as you. I hope they take advantage of you and the money you keep hoarding. I hope they lie to you about everything in their life and in their past, and you don’t find out until it’s too late and you can’t leave or end things. I hope that they use your vulnerabilities against you. I hope that they disrespect you and belittle you. I hope that they are able to control you in every aspect of your life. I hope they are able to deal with your psychotic mother in a way that hurts you. I hope you are emasculated in your own marriage, and that your wife wears the pants in the relationship. I hope she makes decisions without you, and I hope it drives you crazy.

I hope your ex-wife got remarried to someone who actually deserves her and appreciates her. I hope their relationship is happy. I hope that her happiness with her new husband makes you completely miserable because you lied about how horrible she was and you abused her.

You lied about and exaggerated the things that I said to you in private and exposed me. I hope that you are exposed to everyone, just like you exposed me and my secrets. You may have told lies and exaggerations about me, but I’m telling the truth about you. Everything you said about me is nothing to be ashamed of. But everything about you is disgusting and shameful. You’re lucky that I didn’t go into more detail about how horrible you are, and the outrageous things that you said and did. This was in no way revenge. I could care less about you or getting back at you. I wrote this because I hope that every girl that meets you finds this post and heeds my warning about you and they are protected from you, your mom, and both of your evil. It’s a shame, that you have so much potential to be a good person, but you choose to be this way. I feel bad for you.

If you are a girl that met this fool and you want to share your experience, feel free to make an account if you don’t already have one and share with us. I genuinely hope that this post helps someone. I would love to know that it has. Leave me a message if this helped you in any way, even if it does not relate to him directly. Please don’t send him any hate on my behalf, that’s not the intention of this at all. I would prefer if he doesn’t see this, so don’t send this to him if you know him. If he does find it on his own, that’s on him.

If you are someone who is in a relationship with a guy or a girl you suspect has narcissistic personality disorder, please leave that relationship asap. It is not healthy for you. They will traumatize you and leave a lasting impact on what you’ll expect your future relationships to look like. You deserve better. Even if you don’t think that you do, YOU DESERVE BETTER. Leave. It’s better to be single than to be with this type of person.

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applekitty · 4 years

Text

things that happened with me in the past 7 years

i feel guilty so i want to post this. it’s basically a confession post abt stuff i’ve done, stuff that’s happened to me, and general rumination on how my actions have affected people.

transparency is the thing i value most, and now that i’m comfortable to share with you guys my age, i think it’s important i share these things too.

keep in mind my memory’s a little foggy on dates so i can mostly only give approximations

content warning for MANY mentions of rape, grooming, mlp porn, and one passing mention on transphobic genderbend content. also idk if counts as it or not but just to be safe??? csa, bc it happened when i was a kid

there’s a tl;dr at the end, please at the very least read that before sending me any asks about this post

i got my iphone 4s when i was late into being 12 years old, in preparation for 7th grade. my mom thought it was time for me to get a phone so she could text me if she needed to. so, i got a way to access social media. by the time grade 7 had begun, i’d gotten this thing called ‘virtual space’. you may better know this as ‘amino’ nowadays. but back in the day, there was only one. virtual space.

virtual space (2012-2013/14?)

this was an rp media app with the ability to add posts and add pictures. i didnt know about tumblr or really anything outside of facebook at the time, so virtual space was my main social media. i only have one person who i still talk to from my times in virtual space, and i think it’s safe to say both of us do not want to remember our time there.

virtual space was a very toxic place to be, and i was one of the most toxic people on there. i was very much an elitist, a grammar nazi, and all the worst of the worst. i was very snooty and very much up my own ass. i traced art, i pretended to be a scholar.

i was nice enough to some people, but all in all, i saw myself as superior because i was ‘literate’ and others were ‘illiterate’. people who were unable to spell or write out long paragraphs like i was were seen as lesser by me, and i considered virtual space a place to assert my authority as the best writer. thanks to virtual space, i had dedicated myself to learning words, improving my writing ability, and dressing up my things with such elaborate purple prose that it’d make future me snore and die.

i did a ton of regrettable things (such as pretending i was a guy who’d gotten into a car accident purely for attention) while i was on my superiority spree.

there, on virtual space, i found out about my little pony. the first thing i ever saw from the show was the flim flam brothers song. and i loved it. so i got into mlp, starting rping in mlp things alongside the normal fandomless things.

on virtual space, people would often rip things off tumblr to put into vs. this is where i learned of tumblr. i moved off of vs and moved onto tumblr. subsequently, it’s also where i got fully into mlp.

tumblr (2013-now)

on tumblr there’s not much i can’t say that isn’t talked about in the below parts. i do want to say, though, that there was a time in my life wherein i was following and reblogging rebornica content. they reblogged some.. questionable things that i think contributed to the below stuff. just slightly, but not a bunch. btw if you do go into there you may see some of the stuff rebornica reblogged, including a thing about genderbends? know that this is my opinion on genderbends lol

mlp (2012-2015)

when i first got into mlp, it was before the season 3 premiere. during that time, i was still on vs, but i switched over to tumblr i believe after the announcements and trailers for rainbow rocks came out.

mlp ask blogs were very nice on the surface, but things like ask molestia, or ask discord whooves quickly were put into my youtube recommends. they were some of the most popular ask blogs, things that got praised; humiliation, rape, and molestation. those are the things that got you follows, those are the things that got you popular. i wanted to be popular. i was popular on vs, so i want to be here too.

if you know anything about the mlp community, there’s a reason why for that. porn is incredibly saturated in mlp, and there is a lot of rape content permeating the internet. if you need proof, just go ahead and find out what ‘fall of equestria’ is. that’s a popular au. and it’s no secret that rape is all over places like fimfiction.

~lewd mlp comic dubs~ in general were on youtube as well. they weren’t as much as a contributing factor, but their simple BEING THERE normalized the concept of ‘lewd being acceptable and beneficial for me to benefit off of’ into my mind. it was a gateway into what would further come.

mlp was my first introduction to explicit content. i was 12. it was untagged.

i opened up a multitude of ask blogs before i settled on my longest; ask shy sombra. this blog was trying to claim the fame of a inactive blog called asksissysombra. sissy sombra was an explicitly nsfw blog with rape fetishization. the blog is still up and not hidden by tumblr’s nsfw detector, nor deleted. it regularly clocked 200 notes a post.

ask shy sombra was exactly like asksissysombra, though much more tame. the rape fetishization was used in such a way where it was entirely offscreen, and fairly vague. though, with specific follower milestones, i would draw semi-lewd drawings hinting at rape, and get notes for it. thankfully, the blog didn’t get far enough into its plot (as i restarted it a total of four times) to get to the parts wherein rape was around. i made ask shy sombra when i was.. i know in eighth grade. i think a little late into eighth grade. so i’d be 14.

ask shy sombra was my most popular blog, and garnered me about 1.5k followers over a 2(?) year run. this only encouraged me to produce more content. to get more followers. naturally, this fostered in my literal child brain that this disgusting content is a good thing to make because look at all the rewards its giving me.

i would draw a lot of things purely for the edge on this ask shy sombra, and treat serious topics like things to shock people. i was surrounded by people who’d praise me and draw fanart for me. i was collecting a fanbase by making extraordinarily shitty content. wasn’t even well drawn either, lol.

i was drawing all this because i felt like i was mature and edgy for doing so, that by being dark i was better than others, that i had more substance, and that people would take me seriously.

after a while, i made myself a nsfw blog. lots of other mlp ask blogs, aka basically all of them, had nsfw blogs. so, i got myself one. i produced almost exclusively rape content, both drawings and writings. i wanted to be even more edgy, and this was a place i could do it raw, uncensored. i could unleash true horror here, on a nsfw blog. it was so shocking, so awful! isn’t that what the mlp fandom is about? being twisted and fucked up and evil on sideblogs, making awful content to go ‘ooh how edgy’ at? nothing was barred. i was 14, maybe early into 15.

i knew (aka followed, because there was a whole underground mlp nsfw community) other people, who were significantly older, for their rape content as well. and there were lots of people to choose from. one i remember (even by url) drew horrifying depictions of rape in a painterly style. there were two others i remember the style of, but not the names. these three were my introduction to guro, which thankfully i did not indulge in.

i wasn’t very active on my nsfw blog, at least. when i was, i was only there in bursts and never made anything too bad if i can remember right. most of it was just.. lewd faces or whatever. my art wasn’t good enough to get lots of reblogs in the porn sphere, thank GOD. i mass-deleted the content on that blog three times before i deleted the blog itself and never tried again. i never did like that nsfw blog.

unrelated, but i think the reason why rape as a concept in the mlp fandom is so wide spread, is because the fandom had mass produced it as a replacement for rough sex. it was just a more ‘erotic’ version of rough sex to them. a more intense version of sex, wherein tears and screams to stop were actually just lies, these creatures secretly were pleasured.

and, for people like me, it’s a good way to be the edgiest kid on the block. the more edgy you were in mlp, the more followers you were bound to get. the more attention you got. and it worked. i got so much attention.

on christmas of 2015, i stepped away from mlp for good.

in 2016, i deleted everything on ask shy sombra, (except for the follower milestones), and moved on.

psmd (2015-2017)

psmd was my new target. psmd was a lot more quiet. i hadn’t done much with psmd in comparison to mlp, as i kept most of my explicit content private. however, as some of my mutuals back in psmd would tell you, rape was not a thing i strayed from talking about here either.

leftovers from my time in mlp, sure enough, rape was in psmd as well. thankfully, it was not public, with only a select few having access to it. no one reprimanded me for it. i don’t blame them for not scolding me. what are you supposed to do to something like that? it’s nerve racking and disgusting and you just want to side-eye it and leave it alone. especially since i was most of these people’s friends.

‘private’ is a hard word to call the rape content i made for that one. because psmd’s fandom was very very, very small. there was one specific server for it with like. 15 people at most on it at one time. either way, i was making rape content for the same reason; to be the edgiest kid on the block. if you knew anything about my extraordinarily edgy psmd au, you’ll know i went all out on edge. just like with ask shy sombra, the attention-seeking for the au and the desire to get eyes on content went to the worst bottom denominator. it never went to children or whatever, though.

making rape content actually wasn’t the main thing bad i did while in that fandom, no. mostly bc it was all decently private.

i was in the pokemon ask blog community for a short while. while i was there, i was an elitist and sort of a snob. i projected my insecurity onto the bigger blogs around me, simply because i wasn’t getting the attention i thought i deserved. in mlp, it was so easy to get followers. here? not so much. i wasn’t happy about people ‘suddenly ignoring me’, so i lashed out at the community.

people who were just having fun for the sake of having fun, i didn’t like those guys! nuh uh! anyways, i sealed myself off to my small community of psmd people until i eventually decided to leave psmd for kirby in the summer of 2017. that was when i’d watched the original pilot for the kirby anime.

kirby (late 2017-now)

kirby is currently the fandom i’m in. thanks to me squishing myself into the box of ‘make this worthy of being shown on 4kids as content’, i have solidified my content. though some of it, such as my old galacta work, zero percent chill, are a little eh and show remnants of who i once was.

i’ve had a rocky transition period, however, and some individuals can attest to that, unfortunately.

i’m glad i’ve been able to try to cope with my fandom-inflicted grooming. certain events and people have gotten me to really think about morality and my actions in the past, as well as about writing and the things they may teach people.

conclusion

amino taught me that being popular and the best was the most important thing.

mlp taught me creating rape content was not only okay to produce in the most shock-factory way, but it got you popular, which is all i wanted in my 13 year old brain.

psmd taught me that people will not object to rape content— but they will pretend you and your edgy bullshit doesn’t exist. certain things are excluded from that, like one particular fic. while it’s gone now, it did exist. people knew it existed.

kirby taught me to sit down, shut the fuck up, and stop that shit. no one sat me down for it, i did it myself.

getting a few more years on me helped, lol

everyday im super duper thankful i was never groomed further past that into making incest or making pedophilic content. i’m also thankful that i got out of mlp. that my content never got truly popular in psmd. i’m thankful my grooming never got taken advantage of by any specific, older individual. i’m thankful my grooming wasn’t directly from an actual person who could’ve gotten me deeper into the mindset, wherein it’d be harder for me to get out of it.

my actions in mlp and psmd have undoubtably groomed people in the process, and for that, i’ll be eternally sorry. if you knew me during that time, with my shitty edgy-for-attention aus, sorry.

tl;dr:

when i was in the mlp fandom, i wanted to be popular and quick. i noted the most easy way to get popular, get comic dubs, get that Cool Praise, was to be edgy. and, ontop of that, one can also add in a layer of sexual assault for extra Brony Praise.

i didn’t stop to think of why things like rape or sexual assault was so massed produced in the fandom, and i don’t think i cared either. i knew rape was bad and a disgusting and terrible act and it scared me thinking about it happening to me (because im a girl lmao), so i’d write it up as a hyper-angsty thing. oohh the angst, oh how sad, look at how horrible it is, this totally isn’t stroking a huuuugeee unnecessary angstboner for a EXTRAORDINARILY delicate REAL WORLD topic at all!! totally not disrespectful to ACTUAL VICTIMS at all!!!! not that it mattered how it was written up, certain people in the fandom liked it more when things were horrible, awful, and disgustingly violent or ‘egregiously angsty’ in regards to rape. rape and its ‘angsty’ content was normalized to me when, at bare minimum, i was 13.

i ended up making rape-related extremely edgy content in the mlp fandom and i got a lot of followers. 1.5k followers. i used the shock of offscreen rape as a way to.. well, shock people. and make a horrifying story that i wanted attention towards. the praise I got for being edgy and making rape content groomed me into creating more. being groomed by no one inparticular into making this content, but by a fandom, by the sheer amount of rape content and general porn being paraded around, that really fucked me up.

when i was 15 (going on 16 in half a year), i transferred this mentality into other fandoms, trying to be the most edgy and shocking by using the actions of rape and sexual violence or even sexual trafficking as my vehicle of angst without thinking of what the writing of these subjects in such a way may say about me as a person. i didn’t care about that, i wanted to be the darkest, most edgy, most brooding. and I was, and I got mad when I didn’t get the 1.5k followers worth of attention that the mlp fandom was so willing to give me.

when i was 17, i transferred to kirby. and that’s when i realized all this edge-for-the-sake-of-edge bullshit needed to stop. i’d almost taken my extreme edge to kirby as well, but i doubled down on myself and quit that shit. thank god that i did that. i strickened myself to write g-related content with only minor, more moderate amounts of edge.

i’m now 20. i’m hypercritical of people who do the same things i did when i was younger, because hyperedge shit like the stuff i created makes me feel disgusting thinking back on it. i know i most likely groomed people into doing the exact same shit that i’d done with my presence, especially in the mlp fandom. and for everything i did, all the extremely insensitive content i made when i was younger, sorry.

i wanted to be transparent about this, and it’s important to me to be so. cards out on the table and such. if you feel uncomfortable about this new info and the things i did to get attention when i was younger, that’s completely understandable. feel free to unfollow / block me if that makes you more comfortable on this platform, even if we’re mutuals or friends.

#feels bad man #important #im probably asleep rn (this post is scheduled) so if you wanna send asks or dms about this i'll answer them in a bit lol #this is very much a confession post. i want to get all this shit off my chest #theese is. my experiences. my actions #my anxiety says i NEED to talk about this and confess all of this so thats what im doing

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years

Text

451. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.

Shoutout to the amazing anon prompting this! Your other story will be up tomorrow!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Good morning, tin-can’, Detective Gavin Reed greeted him without making eye contact, as usual. Nines looked up from his work, the little jabbing program in the back of his head starting to act up again upon the conclusion that the uttered statement was [dishonest] and [human is lying]. ‘Good morning, Detective. How had your weekend been?’ ‘Fine.’ [Subject is distant] [Doesn’t speak the whole truth] Nines nodded and got back to work. He had to go to a Cyberlife store soon and get this checked. Something had to be wrong, because with every word out of that human’s mouth he sensed lies and withheld words. A behaviour like that simply wasn’t natural. Maybe for a day or two, Nines supposed someone could handle it. But three months? Clearly some code had to be faulty.

A message popped up in his vision, informing him of a crime scene that called for their attention. ‘There had been a suspected drug related murder’, he reported dutifully to his partner. ‘We are to leave immediately.’ ‘No, I didn’t even had-‘ The detective cut himself off as Nines had turned towards him attentive to every word. This time they didn’t scream [human is dishonest]. ‘Alright, I’m coming.’ The human stood up and put on his jacket. ‘May I inform you that you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, detective?’ The man tensed and held it for several seconds, before letting out a deep sigh. ‘I know, toaster, it’s fine.’ [human is lying]

The drive to the crime scene was silent. Nines knew it was normal to discuss what they knew about the scene, but the detective wasn’t one for banter. So, he prepared one of his usual monologues: ‘The body was found today at 6:43 AM by garbage collectors in an industrial park. As I was informed there aren’t any signs of a murder on the body, but there were traces of red ice and a message left.’ ‘Oh god, will you shut u-‘ Nines looked over to his partner at the uncommon reaction, but before he could say something, the human corrected himself: ‘I’m sorry. Continue.’ Again, it was dishonest from the bone. ‘Detective, if you’d rather drive in silence and examine the scene for yourself, I can stop.’ ‘No! No, no, I’m fine, I don’t want to stand in your way. Just get on.’ [lie] ‘Okay… Well, there is a message on the wall above the body, Cyberlife font but not perfect. Maybe trying to blame androids for the murder?’ ‘We are there’, the detective interrupted and parked the car lazily at the street.

He almost fled through the opened gate in the fence and followed a beat cop already waiting for them. The woman led them through a jungle of pipes and brick-walls, maybe it was a chemical plant. Nines didn’t look it up, he was preoccupied hurrying after his partner.

He caught up to him as they arrived at the scene: True to Nines’ description there was a dead body, a middle-aged woman, leaning against a wall and a pipe. The ground was covered in tiny red crystals that turned blue where they came in touch with water puddles from yesterday’s downpour. No obvious signs of foreign interference, no blood, no needles, no reminders of handprints or rope at the throat. She looked like she was sleeping. Above her head there was near perfectly written: Pay your debts.

The detective was already on his knees, inspecting the crystals on the ground. ‘There is no pattern in the distribution’, Nines helped and saw the man flinch but say nothing, moving on to the body. Nines dipped a finger into the red dust and brought it to his mouth. The familiar results came in near immediately. ‘Red Ice.’ Gavin was already looking at the woman, crouching down once more to study face and throat, then hands and clothing. Meanwhile Nines looked up her file. ‘Her name is Susan Miller. Married, no children. No history of drug abuse, at least none documented. Works at a local news channel, no peculiarities at record there. Uploads photos of a bird regularly on social media. At least from her file there is no motive for a murder.’ He had noticed how the human had increasingly tensed while he was speaking. Nines immediately recalled what he had said, searching for a reason for this behaviour but found none. So, he continued: ‘The writing on the wall appears perfect, but there are little waves at the corners, evidence of a slight tremor or malfunction. Not enough to eliminate the writer either being human or android.’ Still, the crouched down human wasn’t answering, silently inspecting the findings in her pockets. A wallet with a bunch of cards, some money and pictures of her husband and the bird. Some keys, one for a car, one that looked like fitting a front door. Some handkerchiefs. Pepper spray. ‘The spray had been used at least once’, Nines supplied from his analysis. ‘I will try to find out whether that was here.’

He crouched down, getting samples of the ground around the dead woman, but stopped as his partner got up and walked away without a word. ‘Detective!’, Nines called out for him, but there was no reaction. He got up, recalling his recent memories. Why was the man acting so strangely? With everything he had done he had intended to help. There was a reason, androids were flooding the police. They could see things humans couldn’t. Nines would stand for it without pride or a feeling of superiority. There was also a lot, humans could do that went far over an android’s head. Especially working with detective Reed Nines experienced it nearly every day. He really liked working with the man as he was efficient and not hindered by compassionate emotions. The only thing standing between him and a successful cooperation was this behaviour the man was displaying: No more speaking than the barest minimum, every direct question answered with something he knew wasn’t what the man wanted to say. And he decided that this had to end that moment, standing next to the dead body of the poor woman.

He started running to catch up to his partner and found him sitting behind the wheel looking the other direction. Clearly waiting for him but not voluntarily. Silently, Nines entered the passenger seat, but as the man wanted to reach for the gear-knob, Nines grabbed it instead, looking at the human with determination. The detective met his eyes, flinching at the contact and immediately his left hand was at the door-handle. Nines scanned the human opposite to him and realised for the first time that this was a reaction of fear. Of course, he had never noticed it. He wouldn’t have thought the man to fear anything after seeing him in action with no regards to his own safety, only having the mission in mind.

Nines averted his eyes and let go of the knob, strangely regretting that the human was afraid of him. What had he done to frighten a man like Reed? Of course, he could be frightening. He had been designed to be. But he had always tried to be gentle and helpful. ‘I’m sorry, detective.’ ‘What?’ ‘You seem to be afraid of me.’ ‘No I’m not!’ ‘You are lying right now.’

There was silence. ‘I detected you lying to me repeatedly, always saying something you didn’t mean or trying to cover something up that slipped past your lips that you did mean. I… I asked myself what I did wrong all the time, but now I know. I am sorry to frighten you.’ ‘You don’t frighten me’, it was quietly uttered, as if ashamed. But it was true for once and Nines looked up again, studying the human that had crossed his arms over the steering wheel. ‘Then please tell me what I’m doing wrong. I can see your stress levels spike whenever you are talking to me, but you never tell me what causes that. I can ask for a transfer, if you want. Though I really enjoy working with you.’ ‘It’s nothing, I can handle it.’ ‘You are lying again. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.’

‘Fine, okay!’ Suddenly there was anger. Anger Nines hadn’t seen before, as if it had been chained deep inside his partner and only now set free. ‘I never asked for a partner. I was perfectly fine being alone. And then I get a phcking machine! A damn Connor 2.0! You know I would have rather learned I’m replaced by a bot than work with one! You perfect analysing dipshits, scrolling through people’s social media and finding out every little detail we thought to be well hidden. What will the world come to once our metal overlords slowly take everything? When our worth is determined by machines? Phck, I hate your kind. Always had and always will. And if you want to punch me unconscious for this too, like your damn doppelgänger did to show me my place, then fine, do it! It won’t change who I am! You would have to kill me for that!’ Nines looked at the human surprised and confused. He had never expected… What had Connor done? He accessed the precinct’s surveillance database through the android network and searched for anything that would explain what happened. As he searched, there was a groan coming from the human as he slumped down again. Finally he found a file. Gavin threatening Connor for illegally entering the evidence room. And moments later ending up on the floor unconscious. A heavy blow to a proud man’s ego. It made Nines re-evaluate his relationship to Connor and his approach to the human next to him.

‘I would never harm you, detective’, Nines said carefully. ‘I wouldn’t even think of it.’ He paused, expecting the human to intervene and shut him up. But detective Reed stayed silent. Without being able to see his face, Nines couldn’t find out whether what he was saying had an impact. ‘And I definitely don’t think humans are of any different worth than androids. I disagree of humans being superior. But so I do with androids. We are equals. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I replaced a human. I don’t know what Connor thought as he did this to you, but I don’t think it was justified. I know nothing I say will change your opinion on androids, but please look at my actions when judging me, not other’s.’ ‘Fine, asshole, I’ll judge you by your actions: You always act like you know phcking everything. As if a human can’t get to the conclusion that a pepper spray was used before! Shit, then the ordering around. New crime scene there, we are to go here… Bullshit! We are not partners! You are the perfect detective and I’m the burden you have to bring along because technically you have a partner. Don’t you tell me we are equals!’ ‘But we are? You are not a burden. You don’t speak to me at all, how should I have known what you found out? I just thought to help you by stating everything I could see. And I never intended to order you around although I see I might have phrased some sentences really weirdly. I’m sorry for that. But you have to tell me that, how else should I know?’ ‘Hmm yeah and end up drooling on the floor again? No thank you!’ ‘That’s not healthy.’ ‘Yeah, well, phck you! I only have my eight hours with you, then I can relax again.’ ‘But it doesn’t have to be like this. I can assure you you can always tell me. I promise you I’ll never harm you. We are partners, we are supposed to protect the other. And I need you. I agree, I can analyse samples and see more at a crime scene than a human. But you are far more advanced in finding a motive and thinking like a killer would. You have social skills I would never manage to develop in my active time. I need your skills and you need mine. And that’s how it is supposed to be. If you have problems with me, you can tell me.’

There was a heavy sigh. ‘You can’t tell me you need me. That’s bullshit. When did you ever needed me?’ ‘Every talk to witnesses or family members of victims, you lead. I couldn’t be compassionate if my life depended on it. I’m too analytical for it. And take this case for an example: I suppose you already have a hunch?’ ‘…Yeah.’ ‘I don’t. I know there is not enough evidence yet. But you already have an idea to follow for the next steps. That is one of your most amazing qualities.’

They still sat in the car, twenty minutes after leaving the crime scene. ‘So, how about we start over and you talk to me as if I were a human partner that in no way had a chance at overpowering you in a fight?’ The detective had risen his head over the wheel again, maybe Nines had managed to get through to him. ‘I think I could try that.’ ‘That’s good to hear, detective.’ ‘The name’s Gavin.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Gavin gets decked ONCE in his life #Gavin: I have severe PTSD and can't talk to androids #I had a severe headache writing this and I hope there is nothing weird or wrong in the first half XD

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x-useobwa-x · 4 years

Note

AU: "we argued so much during a class discussion that we both got kicked out and we’re still arguing outside of class” Namjoon x reader

This is so cute omg jsjfjajhshs!!

I smashed this down really quickly, please don’t judge! 🥺❤️ @xosetsuna

༄ Differences

“Obviously if you'd just be a normal person you'd understand that your point is garbage.”

His comment poured even more oil into this fire.

“If I’d be a normal person?! How about YOU wake up and become normal? If so, you’d immediately realize that it’s completely stupid what you’re saying and that cats are definitely superior!” you say agitated.

Namjoon scoffs. “Huh. Superior, my ass.” How about you give me a solid fact?”

A solid fact? You’re running out of points, yet you’re a hundred percent sure that the same goes for your opponent. For the past 45 minutes, Namjoon and you have been arguing in class if cats are better, or dogs. How that topic even arose? Well, tomorrow is ‘bring-your-pet-day’ and your teacher wanted to make a list beforehand, seeing if there’s any problems regarding bringing something that could cause trouble.

Namjoon has been talking about his dumb dog for the bigger amount of time, and you’re sick of it. Your car is definitely better than that lapdog of his.

“Uhm, excuse me y/n, but I, too am the opinion that cats are superi-“

“Shut up Hoseok, this is my discussion,” you say, shutting the poor boy in the back up with a slam onto your table as you stand up. Your chair tumbles down behind you as Namjoon mimics your gesture.

“Yeah, shut up Hoseok. This is a war between y/n and me.” Your eyes are locking and there’s a hint of disappointment towards each other in the air.

“Come on, Namjoon, Y/n. This isn’t so serious, why don’t we jus-“

“Cats are better. Accept it.” You interrupt your professor, without having paid any attention to what he said.

“Dogs.” Namjoon simply replies.

“Cats!” You shoot back, now louder and angrier

“DOGS!!”

“ENOUGH!” Your professor yells as he slams both his hands on the table and you two look towards him in shock. “Y/n, Namjoon! Out, both of you! Enough of this topic! You want to argue? Fine, but not in my class!” he continues and points in the direction of the door.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Choi, we just wanted to-“

“Get OUT,” he cuts you off and Namjoon as well as you flinch at your usually very laid-back professor losing his cool. Silently walking towards the door you hear him quietly mumble ‘dogs are still better’ behind you as he follows you outside.

••

You’ve been standing out here with Namjoon for about 20 minutes now, both at least 3 body lengths apart and silent as the night. Neither of you said a word anymore until you hear him speak.

“What’s so cool about cats, all they do is ruin furniture and scratch you if they don’t like what you’re doing.”

“Oh? And your dog salivating all over the floor and sitting in front of you while you have a meal is better, at least my cat stands up for herself if she doesn’t want something, unlike your dog that does everything without his own will,” you hiss back.

“Dogs are so much more than that, y/n.” He says now more serious.

“Yeah, and so are cats. They don’t just scratch you, they also come over when they sense your emotions to comfort you. They go outside and sometimes come back home with a little something in their mouth to give to you.” you explain,

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ usually is a dead mouse or bird,” he replies.

“Yeah, that might be, but they don’t know that we’re not like them. They bring that back for you as a gesture of love towards you, as a contribution towards home.”

“Well, dogs are not just some creatures without an own will either. Dogs accompany you through everything, they become your best friend that makes you happy, and you become their only source of happiness. They would throw themselves into a fire for you and start barking loudly if they sense someone approaching the house.”

“And with that, they also wake up the whole house in the middle of the night,” yoy giggle in response.

Namjoon senses your more friendly approach and appreciates it.

“They might wake the whole house, but that alerts their owner and drives off potential danger!” He looks at you with softer features now, happy that you aren’t so defensive anymore, which makes him lower his defenses too.

“Wanna show me a picture of your cat?”

You look over to him, he’s smiling at you and you eagerly in response.

“Mhm!! Only if you show me your dog, too! I have two cats, by the way!!” With a lighter heart you walk over to him, pulling your phone out.

“Oh god, they are actually adorable,” he swoons over the pictures over your kittens, just as you adore the pictures of his dog.

“So is your dog!”

“Really?” he questions.

“Really.” you answer.

a/n: okay take three because tumblr kept kicking me tf OUT OMG 😭 HEWWO MY BABIES IM BACK WITH THIS DEFINITELY-NOT-MY-BEST ONE SHOT 😩😂 I’m very busy lately so I wrote this under stress and exhaustion 🥴 I am dYING for R E S T😭

N E WEIGHS!!

Thank you so much for reading, like always my bebies 🥺💕 I love and appreciate y’all so much aaa 😭💕

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

Text

Love and Academia Ch. 5 - Cold Shoulders and Coffee

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide

Author’s note: Some Bucky and Emily interaction in this chapter!

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

“First day on the job and you’re already sleeping with your students? Man, you move fast,” Steve laughed through the truck speakers. Bucky clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

“Yea, yea, laugh it up punk,” Bucky said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “But I’m not sleeping with her. I didn’t even sleep with her, technically.”

“Technically. So, tell me, technically speaking, what exactly did you do?”

Bucky paused at the question. He didn’t necessarily want to share every sordid detail of what he’d done with Emily, but he also knew that he needed a second opinion on just how screwed he was, “Technically, I’d say second base.”

“Well, that’s not too bad—”

“And a bit of a lean towards third.”

Silence.

“How far of a lean?”

Bucky parked his truck in the employee parking lot and lifted a hand from his steering wheel to scratch the back of his head, “I may have pulled her dress down and saw her tits.”

Steve blew out a long breath from the other end, “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. I mean it’s not like you did anything with them, right?”

“Well…”

“Dude, what the fuck!”

“Okay, you tell me the last time you pulled a woman’s dress down and didn’t do anything with…them.”

“Exactly!” shouted Bucky when Steve failed to respond. “You know what? It’s fine. So, I’ve felt up my grad student! So, I’ve seen her tits. It could be worse! I could have actually slept with her, but I didn’t.”

Bucky exited his truck, pulling his backpack from the passenger seat behind him. With a slam, he closed the driver’s side door behind him and started walking towards the side entrance of the Life Science building. The campus was quiet as the sun just peaked over the east horizon. Most people were still asleep in their beds, but Bucky had been awake for hours.

“That’s certainly looking on the bright side. What if she tries to out you?” asked Steve.

“I don’t know if I necessarily get that feeling from her. I definitely don’t know where her head is, but something tells me she thinks it would be just as bad for her as it would be for me if word got out about that night. I mean, you should have seen her bolt out of the restaurant.” Bucky took the stairs two at a time, remembering how Emily had received the call he could only assume she orchestrated to escape the awkward hell that was lunch at El Herradero.

Steve hummed in contemplation on the other end of the line, “What’s your game plan then?”

“Simple. I’ll just pretend like none of it ever happened. I’ll never speak of it and if she tries to bring it up, then I’ll change the subject.”

“Ah, so avoiding the problem. Perfect tactic,” Steve replied sarcastically.

“Jerk,” Bucky said as he unlocked the door to his lab and stepped inside, surprised to see the lights already on. He must have forgotten to turn them off the day before.

“You know, one day all those mean names you call me are going to add up,” said Steve, humor evident in his tone.

“I’ll be sure to send you some flowers then to make up for your delicate feelings,” Bucky teased back, walking to the back of the lab towards his office.

“Hey, you free to grab a drink Friday? Celebrate your first week of classes?”

“Nah, can’t Friday. It’s date night with Trixie. You know how she gets when I miss them,” said Bucky tongue in cheek, “How about Thursday? Your place?”

“Sounds good man. Have a good day and try not to sleep with any more of your students.”

“Whatever man,” said Bucky, “See ya Friday.”

Bucky hung up the phone, turning slightly to slip it into his back pocket. When he did, he was startled by the back of a blonde head sitting at the corner desk on the other side of the lab.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even see you sitting there. Sorry,” he said, unlocking his office door.

Emily turned around in her chair and took out a headphone, “Sorry?”

“I was just apologizing for not saying good morning. I didn’t see you sitting there.”

“Oh. I made coffee if you want any. There’s plenty in the pot.”

Their words hung stiff and stale in the air as they stared at each other, both unsure of what to say next or if more words were even necessary. Bucky was the first to break the interaction, nodding and disappearing into his office.

Sitting down at his desk, he booted up his computer and steepled his hands as he waited, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him. Leaning his forehead against his hands, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be a very long year if it continued on like this. He needed to find some way to act normally around Emily. He couldn’t help but note the cold tone in her voice and just how much it contrasted with the husky, breathy way she’d propositioned him on the dance floor that night. Bucky squeezed his eyes tight, trying not to think about the way her voice in his ear had shot directly to his cock.

A knock at his door broke him from his thoughts.

“Excuse me, Dr. Barnes, are you busy?” Emily stood in his doorway; hands playing with a strand of the blonde hair that fell down to her waist.

“No, what can I do for you Emily?” Bucky leaned back in his chair. Every muscle in his body tensed at what she could possibly want from him so early in the morning. Immediately his mind started to formulate ways to change the subject if she were to bring up that night between the two of them.

“I was hoping we could go over your expectations for your classes that I’m TAing.”

He relaxed, “Yea, of course. Please have a seat.” Bucky motioned to one of the deep green chairs placed in front of his desk and clicked through some files on his computer till he found the word document outlining his teaching assistant expectations. Emily appeared hesitant as she entered his office and sat, gingerly, on the edge of the corduroy material, her hands poised delicately on her jean clad lap. The memory of how her fingers had scraped his scalp and pulled at his hair flashed briefly in his mind. He cleared his throat, pulling his focus away from her hands and back to his computer screen. The tightness in his pants not at all unnoticed to him.

“So, I do have a syllabus of sorts for my teaching assistants which I will go ahead and email to you, but let’s go over it together in case you have any questions. Alright?”

“Of course, Dr. Barnes.”

“Please, feel free to call me Bucky,” he said, the formal use of his name only increasing the fact that he was her superior and making his budding erection even more inappropriate.

Emily’s face colored, her high cheekbones dusting baby pink, “With all due respect Dr. Barnes, I prefer to keep a clear and professional line between myself and my superiors.”

He response took him by surprise. Not only had she not brought up their sordid night together, but she was insisting on keeping things rigidly professional when that same rule clearly did not apply to her last advisor.

“Really? I didn’t get that impression from you and Doc,” joked Bucky, hoping that if he could find some way to build a rapport between them, then they could relax. The idea was quickly squashed when Emily not only failed to laugh, but stared at him unamused, a scowl set at the corners of her mouth. Bucky cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned back towards his computer.

“So, first, I expect you to be present and on time to every class. I think it’s important that my TAs are there so they know what is going on and what has been covered so they can best help my students. That being said, I understand that things happen – people get sick, cars break down, family emergencies occur. I just ask that you notify me ahead of time if possible and that you don’t make a habit of missing classes—" he paused, looking over to Emily who nodded her understanding before continuing, “—Second, you must have office hours every week for students to come in and ask questions. Go ahead and email me those this morning before classes so I can add them to my class syllabi. Third…”

Bucky continued on for another ten minutes outlining his expectations and rules, Emily nodding and humming in agreement to his statements. However, she never once laughed when he tried to sprinkle in humor. Never smiled when he said that he was sure she was more than capable of handing the TA work for his classes. Nothing. Instead she stared blankly at him, eyes dull and expression flat. Bucky wondered if she was still mad at him for snubbing her that night at the bar. Steve had mentioned that she had been quite upset that night. But it didn’t really make sense to him. She hadn’t seemed angry at him last week. If anything, she seemed embarrassed and just as freaked out as him.

“So, any questions?” Bucky asked, looking expectantly at Emily. Her eyes focused on him, but not his face. He followed her gaze down to his left hand and the simple white gold band that sat on his ring finger. He felt his heart stop. Emily continued to stare for a few more agonizingly long seconds before lifting her warm chocolate eyes to his.

“Nope.”

With the statement hanging in the air, she stood and exited the office leaving Bucky to lay his head in his hands. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Suddenly Emily’s flee from the restaurant made sense. So did her icy demeanor towards him. Bucky sat back in his chair and spun the ring around his finger, worrying it in a familiar fashion. The metal he had grown so accustom to now burned him as he thought of Diane and what it represented. Commitment. Love. Loyalty.

He had not worn it that night out. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he’d taken it off in the first place. He hadn’t taken it off in three years. Not once. The plan for the night certainly didn’t include meeting any women. He and Steve were supposed to grab a few drinks, catch up, and nothing more. He had been getting ready to head out that night – sitting on his couch in the quiet, empty space that was his new home, staring at his phone. Diane’s contact pulled up, the call button right under his thumb. It was when he got her voicemail once again the cheery and vibrant script of “Hi! You’ve reached Diane. Sorry I’m not here right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” that he took off the ring. He had been angry. He still was angry.

Diane wasn’t there. She promised that she’d make this move with him, but now he was alone, and it felt like she was light years away. He missed her. Sure, he wanted to scream and shout and curse her, but when it came down to it, he really just missed her.

With a sigh he ran a hand down his face, rubbing at the thick stubble on his cheeks, before sitting up straighter and turning back to his computer. If he was going to make a good impression with his students and his new coworkers, he needed to be prepared for his lectures today. Carefully, he clicked through the slides for his Into Bio course trying to be hyperaware of any mistakes or confusing information. He knew the information so well he had to be extra careful even if it did numb his mind. It hadn’t surprised him when they told him the classes, he’d be assigned to his first semester – Intro Bio, Ecology 204, and Plant Physiology. He was a new professor, which meant he automatically got stuck with the boring introductory courses. The latter of the three was at least a graduate level course.

After a few hours, he glanced at the time on his screen and saw it was already 9:30. Bucky raised his arms above his head and stretched, feeling the muscles in his back pull and unravel. Raising from his seat, he grabbed his coffee mug and peaked around the doorway of his office to find an empty lab. Feeling relieved by the fact, he crossed the room to the half full coffee pot. However, one touch of the pot and he faced a cruel and devastating reality. Cold. She hadn’t even left the warmer on. Cursing under his breath, he stalked back into his office and placed his mug back on his desk. He gathered up his things and slid them into his backpack. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he glanced at the time again. 9:35. His first class didn’t start until 10, he had just enough time to grab some coffee.

He walked briskly down the street towards the little coffee shop he remembered passing with Trixie that weekend. Pushing one of the glass doors open, the smell of roasting beans surrounded him. The familiar sight of long blonde hair, baggy jeans, and beat up white sneakers caught his eye across the shop at the front counter.

“Alright, that’s one twenty-ounce iced mocha, two extra pumps chocolate, nonfat milk, light ice. That’ll be five dollars,” the bright and cheery barista stated from across the counter. Bucky watched as Emily reached into her wallet and grabbed what appeared to be a gift card. He was quicker though, appearing at her side, card in hand.

“One sixteen-ounce black drip and her drink as well.”

Emily spun around on the spot, looking up with annoyance when she realized it was him, “I can get my own coffee.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m also young enough to remember being a poor graduate student. Take the coffee.” Bucky pushed his card into the barista’s hand, not giving Emily a chance to say no. The tall blonde opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it, apparently accepting defeat. She huffed, moving over to the pickup counter, crossing her arms and leaning against it. Bucky finished the transaction before walking to her side.

“Something wrong with the coffee in the lab?” asked Emily.

“I’m sure it was fine, unfortunately someone forgot to keep the warmer on,” Bucky said, eyeing her speculatively. He watched as one of the corners of her mouth twitched. She did it on purpose. The level of pettiness amazed him.

“It’s one hundred degrees out, why do you want hot coffee anyways?”

“Because they have the air conditioning blasting so high in that building, I’ve been freezing my fucking balls off,” Bucky regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he was used to a certain dialect. Slowly, he was still learning that the word ‘fuck’ wasn’t common vernacular in these parts.

“Sorry—" he apologized to Emily sheepishly “—guess I’m not very good at professionalism.”

Emily averted her gaze, cheeks tinged pink, but her expression clearly stating that she couldn’t agree more with the statement.

“One twenty-ounce light-iced mocha, nonfat with two extra pumps of chocolate and a drip coffee!” Their order was shouted out across the coffee shop as another barista set their drinks down in front of them. Bucky and Emily both smiled and thanked the employees before grabbing their drinks and heading out the door and back towards campus. Bucky watched as Emily wrapped her plump pink lips around the straw of her drink, intrusive thoughts creeping into his mind of those lips and how they had parted for him.

“What?” Emily asked. Bucky looked away, embarrassed that he’d been caught staring.

“Nothing, just wondering how you drink that stuff.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those coffee people that looks down on others for not drinking it black.” She raised an eyebrow challengingly at him, making him laugh.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Just the chocolate – never understood how people like it,” said Bucky, scratching the back of his head.

“You don’t like chocolate?” Emily spat, incredulously.

Bucky shrugged, used to the reaction the confession usually got him, “I’ve never liked the stuff. Even as a kid.”

“What don’t you like about it? Are you one of those weird people who just doesn’t like sweets?” Emily was surprisingly fired up by the subject, looking at him like he had grown a second head. But Bucky decided it was a nice alternative to the glares and scowls she’d been shooting his way all morning, so he took it as a nice reprieve.

“No, I love sweets. My favorite thing in the world is my mom’s carrot cake. I don’t know, I just think chocolate is overrated. It’s boring, overpowering, but waxy and chalky all at the same time.”

“Wow, I’ve never heard anyone more wrong about something in my life,” Emily laughed as they neared the front door to their building.

“Really?” Bucky asked, smiling down at her. Emily looked back up at him, nodding her head, both completely unaware that the other was reaching for the door handle. It was when their hands met on the warm metal handle, his large hand coming down to envelope her small one that their comfortable trance was broken. They each yanked their hands back, Emily cradling hers against her condensation covered coffee cup, Bucky letting his fall to his side.

“I…um, I’m gonna’ run up to the lab and grab my things. I’ll see you in class,” Emily blurted, before wrenching open the door and running towards the stairs. Bucky stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure as he flexed his hands and tried not to think about the way it had felt when his hand touched hers or the tingling sensation that remained thereafter.

#loveandacademia #bucky barnes #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x ofc #professor!barnes #au #college

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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The Deadly Doubts of Aziraphale - Chapter 1

After they survive the Holy Water and Hellfire, Aziraphale and Crowley find it hard to be away from one another, constantly plagued by the paranoia that they'll lose each other again. But now, at this new stage in their existence, mostly free, something has started to trouble Aziraphale, something that manages to unearth every single one of his fears, driving him down paths that make him question everything he believes about him and his relationship with his demon.

(AO3)

“Bed or sofa, angel?”

Aziraphale doesn’t catch the question the first time even though there’s only four words involved, and none of them that complicated. He hears Crowley speak and that causes him to look up, but that’s as far as his comprehension goes.

“Hmm? Wha---what was that?”

“Where would you like to sleep?” Crowley clarifies. “The bed? Or the sofa?”

“Oh. I … um … hmm …” It’s a simple question. Aziraphale recognizes that. But he’s so lost to the thoughts in his head that he can’t formulate a simple answer. It’s as if Crowley had posed the question in Babylonian, and Aziraphale misplaced the proper wheel to decipher it. His brain has taken this simple task and made it monumental for no reason whatsoever.

But that’s par for the course, because very little feels simple anymore.

They’d driven for quite a while in absolute silence after their lunch at the Ritz. Pleasant conversation distracted them throughout their meal, but during a pause while their waiter poured their third round of champagne, their minds meandered back to recent unpleasantness at roughly the same time – Aziraphale recalling the look on Crowley’s face when he said he’d go off to the stars and not even think about him; Crowley remembering what it felt like to drop to his knees in Aziraphale’s burning bookshop thinking his best friend was gone. Truly gone.

They’d had yet to admit it out loud, but facing the possibility of their own total demises wasn’t their biggest fear.

Losing one another, being left alone on Earth, was.

After lunch, they’d climbed into Crowley’s Bentley, their destination clear. Crowley would take Aziraphale back to his bookshop. They’d talk and talk and talk about everything and nothing for a while longer, skirting the darker issues at hand. Then they’d either get drunk or Crowley would leave, go home to his plants, the stark loneliness of his flat, and whatever nightmares decided to creep into his head while he waited for morning to come.

Crowley couldn’t face that, nor did he want to. When it came down to it - his wants and needs compacted till they could fit on the head of a pin - he wanted to stay with Aziraphale.

It took him over an hour of weaving in and out of city traffic to invite Aziraphale over, as a favor to him he’d said, and since Aziraphale had nothing in the way of plans, he accepted.

Privately, he was grateful he didn’t have to spend the night alone.

“I don’t want to put you out of your bed,” Aziraphale insists.

“Nonsense. You’re doing me a favor, staying over and all,” Crowley says, voicing the shallow truth; the deeper truth, like a bezoar in the stomach, too painful to unearth. “And Satan knows I’ve put you out of your bed enough times. It’s the least I can do.”

“If I take the bed, where would you sleep?”

“To be honest, I don’t sleep that much anymore.” Crowley stares down at the floor beneath his feet, the immaculately polished surface evidence of how little time he spends there. Most of his time, as of late, has been spent in Aziraphale’s shop - which is, by far, more homey than his flat has ever been – drinking himself to oblivion. Or in his car, driving to nowhere and thinking about the future, which, for a while, seemed to be headed in the same direction. “Who knows? I probably won’t sleep at all tonight.” Crowley glances up, catching Aziraphale’s eyes looking back at him. They’re a clearer blue than he’s ever seen them - a shimmering pale blue like the summer sky after an unexpected storm. Their color endures even with this dim light forcing his pupils to shove it aside. But they’re sad, too; heavily laden with worry and exhaustion. “I could sleep in here with you, if you’d like. On the floor, or in a chair. If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”

“The last time I was here, we both got drunk and fell asleep on the sofa,” Aziraphale recalls with a soft chuckle.

“I remember.” Crowley raises a hand to rub his shoulder. “Or, more specifically, my shoulder remembers.”

Aziraphale thinks it over, that same conflicted expression from the bus stop on his face. And like that time, he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You should take the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“But the sofa’s crap!”

“Then you shouldn’t be sleeping on it.”

“Neither should you. Urgh!” Crowley grabs two handfuls of hair and pulls in frustration. “We’re going around in circles, angel!” He searches his room for a solution and finds it in the form of nine identical Burgundy bottles on his bedside table – the walking wounded from many a battle with long, sleepless nights. “How about this …” Crowley grabs a soldier, kicks off his shoes, and drops down on the mattress “… lets you and me sit here together and get to the end of this bottle. If we’re still conscious by then, we’ll start in on the next, and so on and so on. Whoever falls asleep wherever, that’s where they’ll stay. How’s that hit ya?”

Aziraphale shakes his weary head. From a grammatical standpoint, only part of that sentence made sense. “I think I can do that.”

“There we go!” Crowley relaxes into the pillows lumped behind his back, finding the comfortable spot on his side of the mattress with a serpentine wiggle of his long body. He miracles the cork out of the bottle, but instead of taking the first gulp, he gives that honor to Aziraphale. “That’s the Aziraphale I know! And don’t worry – there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“I’m not worried.” Aziraphale toes off his own shoes and stows them under the bed. Then he lowers himself gingerly to the mattress and accepts the bottle. If Crowley were human, Aziraphale would say he has a drinking problem. As supernatural entities, it’s more like an inconvenience. Alcohol and sleep – two of the main reasons why the 1800s remain mainly a blur in Crowley’s mind – not that he’d admit to caring. Because he doesn’t. “There always is.”

***

“Who do you think you are?”

“I’m … I’m sorry?” Aziraphale looks up from his book, his head throbbing from the after effects of too much alcohol and too little sleep. Or perceived need of sleep. Either way, the combination of the two is making the words on the page in front of him swim. What is he reading anyway? He flips the book over to examine the cover but it’s blank. Spine too. Offhand, he can’t recall the last book he touched but he knows it wasn’t red, which the cover of this one is.

So what book is this?

“I said you who in the Heaven do you think you are?” Gabriel, looming over him as if on high, glares with a cool white fire in his eyes, balled fists pressing into his hips with none of the Archangel’s usual care for his finely tailored suit.

There’s a sin if ever I saw one, Aziraphale thinks as he eyes the wrinkles that would otherwise ruin the jacket if Gabriel didn’t have the power to miracle them away.

“I … I am the Principality Aziraphale,” Aziraphale answers, as unsure of this question as he had been about Crowley’s bed or sofa question hours before. No matter how hard he tries, his mind won’t let it make sense.

Aside from that, he can’t shake the feeling he’s in trouble, but he’s not sure why.

Correction - he knows he’s done things that would get him in trouble, but which one in particular is Gabriel scolding him over this time?

Aziraphale scans the park for Crowley, from the ice cream vendor to the east down to the bandstand in the west. He should have been here to meet him at this park bench over an hour ago. There is, as always, a certain greatness to his lateness, this time especially, but he never makes Aziraphale wait more than half-an-hour; forty-five minutes tops. Unless he hits traffic on the M25, but he only has himself to blame for that. Perhaps he is here, saw Gabriel approaching and decided to stand by, keep a close eye till he left. Or wait for an opportunity to make some mischief, a thought that turns Aziraphale’s insides to jelly. He doesn’t need that sort of interference. Not now. “I inspire humanity.”

“Inspire humanity?” Gabriel laughs. “That’s a joke! You couldn’t inspire anything except the opening of a new all-you-can-eat buffet!”

Aziraphale puts his book down, fussing with the edges of his coat in a subconscious attempt to pull them closed. He can’t, and that adds emphasis to Gabriel’s taunt. Aziraphale should let it slide. Gabriel is his superior after all.

But he can’t today.

Today he’s not having it.

Why today is different from any other day preceding it, Aziraphale doesn’t know, but it is, he’s decided. He straightens his shoulders, feeling more of his spine than normal, and says: “Is there something specific you’ve come to jeer at me about? Or is this simply a social call?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, you nitwit! We’re not equals!” Gabriel growls, hovering uncomfortably close. “You may think you’re hot stuff because you averted the Apocalypse with big talk about God’s ineffable plan! But guess what, sunshine? No one’s amused! Not God, and definitely not me!”

“So you’re saying your opinion on the matter is more important than God’s?” Aziraphale asks, genuinely eager for an answer. But Gabriel, as usual, doesn’t feel obliged to give him one.

“I’m on to you. You may have gotten away with facing judgement for now, but I’ll find out how you did it. I’ll find out how you survived the Hellfire, and then you and your demon will perish together.”

“Yes, well, good luck with that,” Aziraphale says, quoting a turn-of-phrase he’d heard on something Crowley introduced him to called YouTube. Aziraphale calmly goes back to reading his book - or attempting to. The words on the page have gone from liquid-y black marks to tiny darkling beetles marching their way across his page, sometimes stopping to form the most obscene words in the English language. He turns the page, hoping to be rid of them, silently dismissing the Archangel seething beside him, but Gabriel doesn’t back down.

“We may have gotten it wrong last time, Aziraphale, but next time, we’ll kill you. See, I’m convinced the two of you managed to switch bodies somehow …”

Aziraphale goes cold from the ends of his hair to the soles of his feet. In an unfortunate turn of events, his wings unfurl from beneath his coat regardless of who may see as fight or flight kicks in, flight winning since Aziraphale knows he can’t battle an Archangel and win. Gabriel is baiting him. Aziraphale knows that, too. Gabriel doesn’t know for sure what he and Crowley did. He’s testing out a theory, gauging Aziraphale’s reaction to see if he’s correct.

And Aziraphale, too scared to lie convincingly, is giving them away.

“So what I propose we do is …” Gabriel inches closer, his voice dropping below his breath so only the two of them can hear “… we tie the two of you together and light you with Hellfire. Then we’ll douse whatever’s left with Holy Water. This way, one of you gets to watch the other die before they get banished from the universe.” Aziraphale swallows hard, and Gabriel’s grin spreads monstrously. “I’m betting by the sickened look on your pathetic face that you’d go first in that scenario.” Gabriel tuts in Aziraphale’s ear, the sound like the dull thud of a bomb impacting the ground before it goes off. “Too bad, too. Originally, I wanted you to watch your demon die, but I think it would be so poetic for him to watch you die. You appreciate poeticism, right? That’s why you sell those stupid books in that stupid human shop of yours.”

Aziraphale closes the red book on its foul-bodied little insects and hugs it to his chest, holding hard as a talisman of strength so he can face down the Archangel. It doesn’t provide much in the way of comfort. Crowley would give him more if he were there (the bastard!). But Aziraphale looks at Gabriel nonetheless, meets him eye to eye, terribly pleased with himself in the face of Aziraphale’s obvious fear.

“It’s a gamble,” Gabriel continues, sliding the words off his tongue slowly, relishing this moment, “but we’ll just roll the dice and see who wins.”

“D-don’t you dare bring Crowley into this!” Aziraphale demands. “He did nothing wrong! I did nothing wrong! We saved the world! Isn’t that what angels are supposed to do?”

“Don’t you dare blaspheme the title Angel by lumping your demon in with us!”

“He’s angel stock!” Aziraphale declares defiantly, voice shaking with anger and disgust. “And since he did what he did for the greater good, the term applies!”

“He’s a servant of Evil! By definition, he’s done something wrong, even if it reads as good to a soft-brained half-wit such as yourself! And speaking of you …”

“I am an Angel of God! Guardian of the Eastern Gate, whether you like it or not!”

“Wrong! You’re soft! You’re weak! And seeing as Eden no longer exists, there is no Eastern Gate for you to guard! It’s an empty title for an empty angel! And Heaven no longer has any need of you!”

Aziraphale bolts up from the bench, intent on running. He knows it’s a stupid plan as Gabriel runs every day and Aziraphale only runs when chased. Even then it’s negotiable depending upon what’s chasing him. Whatever he can’t elude by wit, charm, boredom, or aggravation deserves to catch him, in Aziraphale’s opinion.

And if it does, he has a wily old serpent about to help him out of any real jam.

Speaking of …

Aziraphale’s eyes dart left and right, but he sees neither flaming red hair nor snakeskin shoe of Crowley.

There are more than likely other angels around, lying in wait, ready to pounce if he somehow does get away, but he has to try. God in Heaven! If Crowley is hiding out somewhere waiting to do something, he wishes he’d do something!

Unless other angels have found him and whisked him away already!

Aziraphale doesn’t get a step away before Gabriel grabs hold of his wing and pulls hard. It doesn’t hurt. Aziraphale doesn’t feel anything, only pressure at his shoulder. But the ripping sound that accompanies it makes Aziraphale’s stomach turn over seven times then sink to his ankles.

“No! Stop! You mustn’t!” he cries, gasping when Gabriel dislodges his right wing and tosses it to the ground.

“Oh, but I am!” Gabriel starts in on the left. Aziraphale turns to avoid him but stumbles, heavier on one side than the other. “As of right now, you are Fallen!”

“I’m … I’m a demon?”

“Worse. You’re human. Now you can ingest all the vile mortal food stuffs you desire.” Gabriel snickers. “You might as well. Isn’t that what humans do for comfort? And you’re going to need it. I don’t think your demon is going to want anything to do with you now.”

Aziraphale watches, eyes wide with horror, as what’s left of his last remaining wing falls to the ground, shedding feathers into the passing breeze, leaving behind nothing but white-washed bone.

“No …” he gasps, shaking his head, reaching an arm behind him to feel for himself because it can’t be true. This can’t be real. Gabriel didn’t remove his wings. He didn’t make him mortal! Aziraphale has never heard of it. It can’t be possible. Gabriel doesn’t have that kind of power! Except …

He’d said God wasn’t amused. What if this was part of Her plan? A test, but of him, not humanity?

Test to destruction. That’s what Crowley says.

And this would work.

Being cast out of Heaven would destroy him.

Gabriel’s laughter echoes in Aziraphale’s ears as he spins in place, wrenching his arm behind his back in search of any evidence of his wings. But he doesn’t feel a thing – not a single bone, not a single feather.

They’re gone. Tossed away like common trash.

Whatever Grace he had, his Divinity, has been ripped away.

Somewhere in the annals of human history overseen by the angels, where the stories of their lives are kept, a new book has been created, birthed from thin air and opened to a clean page.

And the story of his life, whatever time he has left, is being written.

“No …” he mutters, locked betwixt shock and desperation; the future he’d hoped for, the one he’d fought so hard to win back and not just for him – for everyone – gone in an instant.

“No …” What the heck just happened!?

“No …” And where the Heaven is Crowley!? Why isn’t he here!?

“No …” He always manages to bound in at the last minute and pull Aziraphale’s feet out of the fire. He’d been so good at it in the past, he’d done it during times when Aziraphale didn’t know he needed rescuing.

“No …” But not this time, when Aziraphale needed him most. Why? Why!?

“No!”

***

“No!”

Aziraphale wakes with a start, a scream stuck in his throat that, thankfully, doesn’t gain traction. It stops just short of his uvula and lingers, but ends up gathering with a collection of other screams, forming the rock-hard lump clogging his throat and amplifying the ache in his chest.

He looks around, up and down, feels for the world around him, all that he can reach – his legs, stomach, head, the comforter beneath him, a bottle beside him, and to his right, a body. Aziraphale’s eyes snap to it, and he sighs in relief.

He knows where he is.

He’s in Crowley’s bedroom, the demon himself asleep beside him, lying flat on his back in the clothes he wore last night minus his jacket, his hands clasped together on his stomach, two more empty bottles lying between them.

He raises his arms and reaches behind him, sides screaming as Aziraphale pushes them beyond their corporeal abilities, fingertips searching for any hint that he’s in possession of his wings. But he feels nothing. He drops his arms and sighs. The best way to check his wings is to, of course, bring them out, but if he unfurls them here, he’ll smack Crowley in the face.

Probably not the greatest way to wake up, second to the hangover Aziraphale predicts he’ll have.

Aziraphale starts scooting his way off the bed, his aim to head to the bathroom and examine himself in Crowley’s enormous wall mirror. He sticks his left leg out then over till his foot touches the floor, doing his best not to shift the bed. He lucks out in that department. Whatever pricey mattress Crowley chose for this bed he rarely sleeps in is so firm, it doesn’t budge beneath him. But his journey isn’t without obstacles. His knee hits another empty bottle. He holds his breath and watches it, not enough mental faculty left in him to think to reach out and grab it. It rolls to the side, stopping shy of the edge, but doesn’t go over. Aziraphale secures it, setting it gently on its bottom on the floor.

He stands up, shakes out his sleepy legs and frozen joints, and tiptoes to the bathroom. He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook inside the door. He stands in front of the mirror, scrutinizing his face, his eyes, his hair for any clue that he might no longer be an angel. He feels like an angel, although he can’t honestly say he knows what not an angel would feel like.

He’s been living amongst humans, but he’s never been human, so he has no reliable frame of reference.

He takes a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for what he may or may not see. He counts to three and thinks his wings into existence. They unfurl, stretching out full and white from side to side, as beautiful, if he does say so himself, as the last time he saw them.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispers, falling forward slightly, leaning against the counter with his palms pressed against the edge, the pain of it drilling into his head that he is indeed awake, and that his wings are not a dream.

Losing them was.

But it felt so real. Could it, on some level, have been a warning?

“There you are,” a rough voice says from the shadows. “I thought you might have left.” Crowley stammers in, a hand pushing his hair off his forehead, the lines on his face making him look like he may have woken in much the same way Aziraphale did. And then to find him gone?

Aziraphale feels awful about that.

“I’d never leave while you slept. That would be cruel.”

“Are you planning on taking a little morning fly around the block or …?” Crowley blinks his yellow eyes, peering at the angel’s face in the mirror. “Aziraphale, are you all right?”

“Yes. Fine. Perfectly. I just needed to check …”

“Is there something wrong with your wings?”

“No. No, I … nothing. I’m good. Wings are fine.”

“Well …” Crowley runs a hand down his tired face “… did you want to come back to bed? Get a few more hours’ shuteye? I could miracle you up some pajamas if that would help.”

“No. I think, maybe, I’ve slept enough.”

“All right.” Crowley rubs his hands down his face vigorously, determined to wake up though he looks like he could use a couple more hours himself. “I could whip us up a spot of breakfast.” Crowley’s fuzzy brain recounts the contents of his refrigerator at present – wine, more wine, but possibly some eggs. He’s not certain that they’re chicken eggs, or edible, but they’re ovoid in shape. He might have some cheese stuck in there, too … which is to say he had a container of milk he bought ages ago, so hypothetically it would have turned to cheese by now. “I mean, I could order us something. Have it delivered.”

“Yes, yes. That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale replies, barely listening, “but before you do, could you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Could you … give my wing a tug?”

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up to the fire-line of his hair. “You want me to what now?”

“Grab it by the top and pull on it. As hard as you can. I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid it’s difficult at this angle.”

“Could you tell me why?”

“I have my reasons. I’m checking something.”

Crowley softens. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That makes two of us. But there’s something I need to know.” Aziraphale turns, looking at Crowley straight on rather than through the reflection of the mirror. “Please?”

Crowley sighs, nodding before he can physically bring himself to say a word. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

Aziraphale makes a non-committal noise in response because it’s not what he wants. Not at all. But if he says that, if he even hints at it, Crowley might not help him.

Crowley puts his hands on Aziraphale’s right wing, carefully caressing the arch at the top with one hand while he grabs hold of the joint that attaches to his shoulder with the other. There’s a heat to Crowley’s hands that comes from his being a demon. But it’s comfortable, pleasant, reassuring ironically now that he’s preparing to pull Aziraphale’s wing off. Regardless, one thought enters Aziraphale’s mind and stays there, holding on with hooks and nails … and gentle fingers curling around edges and bends.

Having Crowley’s hands on his wing feels intimate.

“Uh … okay.” Crowley bites his lower lip. If there’s one thing in the world he’d wanted to do this morning, this isn’t it. Nowhere on the top ten list. Not even on the bottom fifty. “On the count of three then, all right?”

Aziraphale braces himself against the counter. “All right.”

“One … two … three.”

Crowley tugs with most of his might. He can’t bring himself to use all of it, his shoulder joint aching with the phantom of a similar pain when he does. He knows he has the capacity to break Aziraphale’s wing if he puts all his strength behind that pull.

He’d never forgive himself if he did.

Aziraphale yelps, a shaking hand flying to his mouth, pain fluttering his eyelids shut. Crowley has pulled the hardest he dares, but the wing doesn’t budge.

“There you are,” Crowley says, removing his hands quickly before Aziraphale asks him to do that again. “Stuck on tight. Not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale moves the wing in a circle, relieved when it stays fixed in place. “That’s … that answers that. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Crowley feels like a heel. Lower than a heel. He feels like a snake. But he’s a snake that would do anything to see his best friend smile again. “Might even say it’s tickety-boo.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale puts a hand to his sore shoulder and rubs. “Tickety-boo.”

“May I?” Crowley asks, replacing Aziraphale’s hand with his own when Aziraphale’s fingers fail to reach the right spot.

“Y-yes. Of course.”

Crowley massages Aziraphale’s shoulder, applying pressure in rhythmic circles, moving to where his wing meets the joint. He seems to know just where to touch, his hands warming again, and even though it crackles with demonic power, it’s still soothing.

“How does that feel, hmm? Better?”

“Yes. Much. Thank you.”

“Good.” Crowley turns Aziraphale away from the mirror, wraps his arms around him, and holds him, rocking him slightly in his embrace. He unfurls his own dark wings and wraps the angel up in them, blocking Aziraphale’s view of the mirror, grounding Aziraphale to one thing and one thing alone.

Crowley.

Aziraphale goes rigid, unsure what to do at this point. He knows about hugs, but he has no memory of anyone every holding him for the sole purpose of giving him comfort.

Or at all, really.

But the more Crowley holds him, the more natural it feels to melt against his body and allow himself to be held. But this instinct surmounts the physical. There’s a yin and yang to it. The angel in him can feel the demon in Crowley, Evil sizzling beneath his skin. But as a Servant of God, a Messenger, an Envoy of Love, Aziraphale feels the good in him, too. It may be latent good, or dormant good, but it’s there – a golden spark in the cold and dark, fighting for its right to exist where it shouldn’t, to re-pave a path long grown over with vines but still there, still functional, lying underneath.

“Is this all right?” Crowley asks.

“Yes. Quite.”

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“No. Not at all. Not a bit.”

“Good. Because we may need to do more of this … if that’s something you find agreeable.”

“I do.”

Hugging, Aziraphale decides, is nice.

And this one is better than nice.

It’s the first ever true and honest hug of Aziraphale’s existence.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfic #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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