#this is the fifth year of The Lesbian Gown !!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headcanonsandmore · 4 years

Text

Nonbinary!Ron Weasley au

Always felt restricted by cisnormativity and didn't want to be called gendered terms like 'brother' or 'boy'

But always liked using 'he/him'(this is self-indulgent because i'm a he/him nb)

His family was always supportive,especially Molly who brought him whatever clothes he wanted,be it a dress or a simple t shirt and shorts

Suspected he might be a girl but found that didn't fit him. He helped Ginny realize she could be a girl though and also helped her pick her name.

It finally clicked when he met Harry on the train ride

"Hey,Ron,we're friends,right?"He smiled brightly,"Of course!" "Can you do me a favor then,please?" "No problem!!" "I don't really like being the 'boy' who lived..."He hesitated,"Because i'm not a boy.Or a girl for that matter.So can you ask other people to not call me that?"

Ron blinked in surprised and remembered his struggle."Of course i can!I don't think i'm a boy or a girl either."Harry mimicked his expression before they beamed at eachother,an even stronger bond forming.

Hermione,who is a trans girl that figured it out the year before she came to Hogwarts,get's them some lgbt history books and they find the term 'nonbinary' which fits Ron perfectly and while Harry likes it,he feels something is missing.

Since in this verse Molly dosen't have internalized misogyny that she passed onto Ron thanks to Ron defying the idea of what 'ideal' gender is like,he asks Hermione out to Yule Ball and while she is flustered and blushing cherry red,she stutters out a yes.Ron wears a lovely pink gown to match Hermione's periwinkle and they have a great night that ends in him kissing her forehead after walking her back to her dorm

Neville,who is gay and accepted by his family despite their flaws,nervously asks Harry,who is crushing on Cho,as 'friends' to cover the crush he's had since he told him he's worth twelve of M*lfoy.Little does he know Harry feels the exact same way.He naturally accepts,they both wear tuxes and by the end of the fun night,Harry's crush on Cho has faded

As Ron is nb,there is no heteronormative 'girls and boys can't show affection to eachother' so Rh are very casually affectionate with eachother

The summer before fifth year,Ron casually mentions that he's nonbinary to Sirius

"What's that?" "*Explains*" "Oh i'm nonbinary too!" ":D"

Sirius has spent a lot of his life feeling like a man but something else at the same time.He then realizes he's a nonbinary man.Ron and him heavily relate to eachother and become close

Luna is a trans girl and Harry is the first one she comes out to at Hogwarts,which makes them very protective over the other.Followed closely by Rh,Ginny and finally Neville

In HBP,Harry stays at The Burrow like in canon but Neville and Luna come to visit too,which causes Harry to realize he likes them AND Ginny now too.Least to say,this poor bi bby is stressed

But there's no need to worry because they all like him back!Ginny and Luna also like eachother

Lavender is worried that Parvati will finally figure out she's a lesbian who has feelings for her so she kisses Ron,who she has always assumed is just a feminine boy since they aren't close.After the kiss,Ron explains his identity to her and she frantically apologizes,to which he laughs and brushes it off.They become friends and bond over their gay attraction to girls

Hermione thinks they're dating and is jealous while Harry dosen't want to avoid Ginny,Neville and Luna but is terrified that he'll accidentally reveal his feelings.

The R*milda V@ne thing happens and after he wakes up okay,Hermione admits to her jealousy to him and to her feelings and kisses him,which he reciprocates and they happily start dating.Harry screams out 'FINALLY!' when they do

Ron's self-esteem is better than in canon thanks to Hermione validating him verbally more but he still feels unworthy of being with her,being Harry's friend,etc.so the locket sadly still gets to him.HOWEVER,all three of The Golden Trio talk out their feelings afterwards and their relathionship is stronger thanks to it

Right before the Battle Of Hogwarts,Harry gets his loves alone with him and confesses that he loves all three of them.

"WHA-" "*Shy*Yeah..." "YOU LOVE ME?!I LOVE YOU!" "REALLY?!" "I love you too!And Ginny!" "*Blushes*I-I like you both too"

That's how they start dating!

In his twenties,Harry finally finds a term that's perfect for him-Agender.

Ron is fully out and proud after the wizarding war and him and Harry serve as an inspiration to young nbs

~~~~~~~~

THIS IS AMAZING! Thank you so much for the wonderful submission!

#non-binary!ron weasley #trans!hermione granger #submission #potbottom #neville x harry #harry x neville #linny #hinny #trans!luna lovegood #lunarry #huna #pavender #larvati #romione #ronmione #a-gender!harry potter

56 notes · View notes

6ftslytherin · 3 years

Text

An Ismarie fic

Marie Lowell's heart was in pain. For the past couple of days in fact. The girl she liked was probably happily dating her crush by now. Marie hadn't check on Ismelda since Emily Tyler had read her dairy aloud. She tried to follow her after she had run off but Marie was stopped. As it turns out, punching the girl that exposed your crushes secrets got you two weeks of detention. She was on her way to report for her punishment for the fifth time this week by way of an empty hall.

Marie knew beforehand that Ismelda liked Barnaby. She might have been the only person that she had told. She was honored to be trusted with Ismelda's secret. It was the lowest she had allowed the protective wall around her heart to fall. At the same time... Marie was jealous.

She didn't hate Barnaby. She knew he was smarter than people thought, not in a conventional, academic way. He was kind. He was handsome. Every woman's dream man. It made sense Ismelda would like him. They would look cute together. Couples that were made of opposites were cute. He was the opposite of Marie.

Maybe she had been holding out hope. Her parents were both bright and shiny people, so similar people could have a happy relationship. But there was a major problem. Ismelda never mentioned being attracted to girls. Marie knew she was gay. She had known since she was twelve, publicly out since she was fifteen.

Marie was another stereotype. A lesbian that had developed a crush on her straight friend. What was wrong with friendship? Queer girls can have same sex friends, Marie had some. So why did she have to fall for a girl she knew was Interested in a boy? There were plenty of girls she could go out with that might like her back.

Marie was worried she might actually be a masochist. What other explanation could there be? Maybe something had messed with her brain years ago or perhaps she had been born like this.

Marie realized she had been scratching at her head, as if her thick hair wasn't messy enough on it's own. If only she had inherited her dad's straight hair. Maybe touching it was a sort of comfort to her from the time she didn't have any. Chemotherapy was never nice.

Marie almost jumped out of her skin when she heard an angry scream followed by a loud smash. She looked around for where the sounds could have come from. There was a door that was barely open. Another yell and a smashing sound. A little part of her brain told her the room was full of banshees that were waiting for her (and braking vases for some reason.)

Marie slowly opened the door. No banshees, but again, a scream and a vase smashing against a wall. In the abandoned classroom was a panting Ismelda. She hurriedly used repairo, let out a primal scream, and threw it again. Pieces of vase shot everywhere as she collapsed onto her the floor.

Marie was confused. What happened with Sabine's plan? Shouldn't she be in Barnaby's arms? Sabine knew Marie liked Ismelda, but her friends had all but forced her to try and get Barnaby and Ismelda together. She said she needed Marie's permission before trying out a plan they had come up with. Marie knew she could never make Ismelda happy the way she wanted. So she gave her blessing. A blessing that had felt like she had torn her own heart out. If she had remembered right, then today was the day the plan should have gone through. So what happened?

"Uh... Is?" Marie said. Ismelda whipped her head around. Her pale face was now red with eyeliner running down her cheeks. Marie closed the door and walked over to her. Her feelings didn't matter at the moment. Ismelda was in pain. She needed to help her. She kicked some of the debris away and sat next to her.

"What's wrong?" Marie asked. Ismelda cried harder as she tried to say something. Marie did her best to understand what she was saying but her audio processing disorder was making it more difficult than it should be. All she got was "I hate them" and "I want them dead."

Ismelda laid her forehead on Marie's shoulder. Marie didn't mind if Ismelda needed somewhere to cry. She was a bit glad Ismelda trusted her like this, but she felt guilty. This intimacy with her was something she craved but knew she shouldn't bask in. She was sick. How could she be thinking like this when her friend was bawling her eyes out? Marie needed to push her feelings down and let Ismelda cry it all out. That was when she made something out of Ismelda's sobbing.

"Why doesn't anyone love me?"

It felt as if Marie had been hit by a bludger. Of course people loved her. Ismelda's family might care about her much but Marie knew people did. Last year when Ismelda had visited for the first time her parents all but adopted her. Sabine defended her when others made fun of her, almost acting like the (by a few months) big sister her own wasn't. Marie wished she was more like Sabine, the more confident and openly emotional of the two.

Marie couldn't even work up the courage to reassure her that she had people that cared about her... Or did she? She swallowed hard.

"Is?" Ismelda looked at her through her red, wet eyes. "People do love you. Sabine, my parents... me." Ismelda's face twisted in frustration. "I don't mean that kind of love. I mean the kind that makes it feel like you can see new, beautiful colors. Don't you understand? Barnaby was the only boy that has ever given a shit about me. Without him I'll die alone!"

Marie did understand. "You don't get it Marie! I'm a fucking freak!" Ismelda yelled before putting her face back onto Marie's shoulder. Was this really what Ismelda felt about himself? Marie felt nauseous. How could she? How does she not see how amazing she is? Hearing her friend talk like this was devastating.

"What are you talking about?" Marie asked before she could stop herself. Ismelda's crying softened. Marie was stunned by her own boldness. She was normally so passive. What was it about Ismelda that made her act like this? Maybe just being near her made Marie braver. If there was ever a time to tell her what she really thinks, well... she already put her foot in the door so...

"I don't think your a freak, I think your amazing. Nobody else even comes close to how unique you are. I can tell you about various ways decomposition takes place and you don't say I'm creeping you out. You even ask questions because your genuinely interested in what I have to say." Marie's face was radiating heat at this point.

"Your so much more than people give you credit for. You hexed that guy that was making fun of me. You put your scarf on me when I couldn't stop crying. You help me whenever I'm having trouble with my history homework. I just like being around you. I'm genuinely confused as to why nobody else can see how wonderful you are. Even if you are a freak, then I guess I like freaks."

Marie put her hand over her face. "A-and your so p-p-pretty." Was that going to far? Ismelda had stopped crying and took her head off Marie's shoulder. She had crossed the line. There's no way she didn't. She should leave. Marie had messed up their friendship.

"Your the one that's pretty."

Marie was frozen in place. What was she talking about? "Have you seen my face? My nose is all messed up. My jaw is too square. My cheekbones are too defined. My hair is too greasy. I'm too tall. I'm too skinny. I've got big feet and small boobs. My personality ain't much better either..." Ismelda said as she played with the hair that covered her face.

Marie felt an anger rising in her. She lowered her hand from her face. How dare Ismelda talk like that? Why? Why can't she see the beauty that is Ismelda? She wasn't beautiful like a gemstone or princess gown. She was beautiful like a masterfully made casket full of advanced spell and history books. A highly polished walnut casket with a green crushed velvet interior. The books only understandable by those that truly took pleasure in their studies. Morbid, but appreciated by those that can see the beauty in it. Marie was worried her decision to become a mortician warped her ability to think clearly sometimes, but that's how she truly felt.

"I don't care about that. You deserve love too. I promise you won't die alone. You'll find someone who can appreciate you the way you deserve. You might already know your future partner or you might not. The point is you can't lose hope. Even if Barnaby isn't the one there are plenty of people that will see how special you are and love you back. I want you to understand how great I think you are."

They both stared in front of them.

There was silence.

Marie shouldn't have said that. It was too much. Did Ismelda know about her crush on her? She ruined their friendship. That must be what happened. She wasn't saying anything because she was freaked out.

That was when Marie noticed Ismelda's hand was almost touching hers. Her hand hadn't been there before, had it? What was she doing? Did she put her hand there unconsciously? Did she want Marie to notice her? Did she want Marie to... hold her hand?

No... that couldn't be. Could it? Was she misreading the signals? She must be. It was ridiculous to think other wise.

That was when Marie felt something touch her little finger. She looked back down. Ismelda's hand was touching hers now. Part of her worried if Ismelda could hear how loud her heart was violently beating itself against her rib cage.

Would it be overstepping her boundaries if she took her hand? Would it be selfish to do such a thing? She felt like her next action would change her world forever.

Marie took Ismelda's hand into her own.

She had done it. She really did just ruin her friendship with Ismelda. She was going too far. She was going to say her sweaty hand was gross and how dare she try to take advantage of her in this emotional time.

But she didn't.

She actually squeezed her hand.

Marie squeezed back.

Marie had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? She looked at Ismelda who was looking back at her.

Was the room getting hotter? Was the rest of the world even there anymore? All she could think of right now was the intoxicating pine green of her eyes and the freckles that dotted her skin like stars.

Neither was sure who moved first but both girls closed their eyes and got closer. Their noses bumped into each other and made them open their eyes for a second before going back to what they were doing. It was their first kiss.

Marie was worried her bpm had gone over 150. Her stomach was full of pixies. She felt Ismelda's hand squeeze tighter on hers. She was glad they were already sitting on the floor, even without standing her knees felt weak. Marie was sure she would wake up any moment now. That was the only thing that made sense in this scenario. Their lips left each other and they opened their eyes. They rested their foreheads together.

"Is, I like you. I like you a lot." Marie said before anything else could get in the way of her feelings. They had just kissed. She couldn't hold it back anymore. "I'm sorry." Marie's eyes stung with small drops of tears. There was no way to go back now. If only she had been born a boy. She wanted to be with Ismelda. Nothing else mattered right now except for her.

"Marie... I..." Ismelda was trying to put her thoughts together. "I don't think I'm gay. But... I think I like you? I think I've liked you for awhile.. Not like Barnaby, but close? A little different? I don't know... I think I need some time to think." She said as she ran her thumbs over Marie's fingers.

Marie felt so weird. Ismelda liked her? She was so happy. Only two people existed in the world anymore and it was them. The closen she craved was within her reach. Then Marie thought, what if she's just emotional from being rejected? She couldn't be with her if she didn't truly like her back the way Marie liked her. She was brought back down to Earth. Marie removed her head from Ismelda's and looked her in the eyes.

"I understand. You have to take as much time as you need. This isn't something we can't rush. If you decide this isn't for you that's fine. If you decide you want to try being with me than I'll be glad to accept. If you want to try being with a different girl or a guy that's alright too. But this can't be rushed. You need think if this is something you really want."

"Yeah. I've got you. Let just be friends until I get this sorted out." Ismelda said as she let go of Marie's hand. She quietly got up and walked to the door. She paused and turned back to look at Marie. Ismelda smiled a little. "I'll see you around. Don't tell anyone I was crying or I'll kill you." She said. Marie smiled back. "I know. I'll see you later." Ismelda left the room.

Marie sat in the silence.

She laid down on the stone floor.

That was when the weight of their talk hit her. She balled up the bottom of her sweater and screamed into it. She rolled back and forth. How could this really have happened? Was she high? Was she under an illusion?

Marie was panicking with anxiety. She was overwhelmed with joy. But most of all, she was definitely late in reporting to Mr. Filch.

————

"Where have you been girl? Do you think these banisters polish themselves? No! They require hard work! Something you Lowells have never had to deal with." Filch said as he roughly handed Marie a can of polish and a rag. "And wipe that smile off your face before I hang you from your feet! You Lowells always think your better than everyone else... well I'll show you..." Filch muttered as he walked away to do other work.

Marie caught a glimpse of herself in a reflective suit of armor. Her face was bright red and her mouth in the shape of a weird, anxious smile. She tried her best to force her face back to normal, but then she remembered kissing Ismelda again. Her face went back to the unusual goofiness.

She took a deep breath and got to work on the stairs, with her big stupid smile and a bit of hope in her heart for when Ismelda made up her mind.

She was really glad she punch Emily Tyler.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #marie lowell #ismelda murk #oc x ismelda #fan fic #marie x ismelda #Ismarie

3 notes · View notes

bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

Text

Suptober Day 6: Mask

LoveBlock

Mature / A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show AU / Destiel / 2,735 words (Incomplete)

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Week 1

Castiel Novak tugged at the starched collar of his shirt, shifting from foot to foot in too-tight shoes. It was customary that the Alpha wore a tuxedo to the initial meeting though he wished that he’d insisted on that changing as well. The network had wanted something big for the fifth season of LoveBlock, something different. When Castiel got the call that he was one of the finalists chosen to be that year’s Alpha, he’d been understandably confused given that he’d not entered.

Change #1: Alphas were nominated by family or friends. Thanks, Gabriel.

Castiel did everything he could to throw the interview. He was gruff, unsmiling, and showed up with bedhead wearing the hideous trench coat their grandmother gave him when he’d gone off to college. He went out of his way to be cantankerous and rude, refusing to answer some questions and providing terrible answers to others.

Change #2: The chosen Alpha was quiet, withdrawn, and definitely not interested in finding their true mate. One might even call him an asshole.

In the end, Castiel had agreed to participate for two reasons and two reasons only. Gabriel would be given a huge promotion based on the fact that he’d convinced someone with no desire to be on the show to be their grumpy, jerk of an Alpha for the season, thus finally getting him out of Castiel’s condo. And the other…

Change #3: Contestants could reject the Alpha meaning any contestant that dropped out before Hometown week would be competing on a new network show, EscapePlan, to win $50,000. If the Alpha made it to the finale with any contestants left, he and his chosen mate would both win $100,000

“Stop fidgeting.” Gabriel nudged Castiel in such a way that the point of his elbow rolled painfully over the bone in his bicep, a practiced move he’d perfected when they were children.

Castiel flinched away but stood straighter. “My feet hurt. Why does the Alpha have to be in formal dress? The other contestants have to show their personalities not just with their masks but their clothes too. Why-“

“Shhh, my boss is coming!” Gabriel muttered out of the side of his mouth before stepping forward and extending his hand. “Mr. Shurley! So glad you could make it!”

Chuck Shurley gave a small, friendly wave in lieu of shaking Gabriel’s hand, and Gabe dropped it cringing. “Sorry, no offense man I just don’t shake hands. Nothing personal, promise.”

“No no, sorry I uh, forgot.” Gabe scratched his ear before he turned abruptly to Castiel. “You remember my brother.”

“Yes, of course. I liked the promos you did. They were very controversial. Exactly what we were looking for.” Chuck gave Castiel a nod. Castiel pressed his lips together in a caricature of a smile, but his disdain was evident. Chuck just grinned. “Gonna be a good season.” He looked over his shoulder at the commotion as Fergus Crowley moved towards them.

“Gents,” he said by way of greeting. “Chuck,” he added with a smirk, and Chuck gave a rueful smile in return.

“Glad to have you back, Crowley.” Chuck’s tone implied he was not remotely glad to have Crowley back.

“Glad you agreed to my demands during contract negotiations.” Crowley beamed with a smarmy grin.

Castiel looked to Gabriel who’s lips were puckered, eyes rolling up to look at the palm trees hanging over where they stood at the edge of the beach house’s wide circular drive. That was the face Gabe made when he was trying not to laugh. Castiel began to open his mouth to ask when he received another sharp jab to his upper arm.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Gabe gestured towards the space to the left where Castiel assumed visitors would park but was now lit and prepped for Crowley’s opening remarks before the cattle call began.

How do we fall in love? Do we see someone across the room, strike up a conversation, and the rest is history? Do we catch a whiff of a tantalizing or homey scent and follow the instincts of our secondary gender all the way to mating? Or is it possible to fall in love without seeing someone’s face? Without catching their scent?

For the last four seasons, we’ve been asking this question and so followed four alphas on the journey to true love. We watched them try and see past the contestants’ masks, week after week. We saw scent bonds break emotional bonds once the blockers came off. And we cheered when our Alpha looked into the face of his or her potential One True Mate.

This year, we do it again with an entirely new set of rules and an Alpha as you’ve never seen one. Welcome to LoveBlock.

The first limousine slithered up the drive toward Castiel, and he stood stock-still, hands crossed in front of himself. Gabriel had said it made him look like security and not the show’s Alpha, so Castiel had decided that would be how he would stand for the rest of his life. He did his best to ignore the camera to his left and the six or so people behind it as well as the camera to the right and its gaggle of crew meant to capture the contestants as he rushed over to help the contestant climb out of the limo.

Castiel stayed put, the moment stretching, and finally, the door opened, and what looked like the head of a wolf peeked out. “Um.”

“Come on then,” Castiel unclasped his hands to motion them forward, and he could hear the person give a stuttered, o-o-oh…, before a motorcycle boot appeared out the door. A slender woman in a leather jacket and jeans with a frighteningly furry mask walked over to him.

Castiel squinted his eyes. “You’re a horror fan.”

He felt the woman’s surprise more than saw it because well, obviously, and her voice was breathless when she asked, “How did you know?”

Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes, but his tone made his disdain clear. “Lucky guess.”

The woman hugged him anyway and went off to her first impression interview.

Hannah, Office Assistant, Beta

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said this Alpha was different! I mean still handsome,” Hannah paused, to tip her head from side to side, shifting the wolf-head mask in her lap, “which won’t matter in the end I know, I know. But if the guy is gonna be grumpy to start?” Hannah’s blue eyes widened emphatically as she pushed out her lower lip and her huff made her dark bangs flutter. “It’s nice that’s he’s something to look at, you know?”

And so it went for three more contestants. April, a plain brunette Beta who wore safety goggles and a medical mask, was deeply unimpressed that Castiel didn’t understand that she was a dental hygienist from her face coverings. Inias, a male Omega in a suit and the plain, white drama mask they used for group dates before The Scenting, told Castiel he’d have to work to get to know him. Castiel immediately decided he was going home that night. Then Kevin, an Omega college student wearing a giant paper mâché pie on his head, but instead of the typical latticed crust, it contained the numbers 3.14 because he liked math as well as desserts.

There was a bit of a delay after the fifth contestant exited the limo in an evening gown, fiery red hair pulled into an elegant up-do, wearing a printed paper mask with Crowley’s face on it.

“Mother!”

The woman huffed and halted barely two steps out of the limo. “Fergus, you’ve ruined the take! D’you want me to do it again?”

Castiel was intrigued by her Scottish burr as well as the fact that Gabriel had managed to get Fergus Crowley’s mother to compete on the show her son hosted and that was notorious for hookups with at least one group nude exhibition a season. That had to be some kind of miracle from the TV gods. Gabe did say he felt like this season had been blessed.

Once the yelling stopped, and Rowena, mother of one, Beta sashayed off to do her interview, the limo returned with another contestant. Word must have gotten out that he wasn’t opening the door for anyone, so this time, there was no wait, the door swinging open, and a hand curled over the top of the car while a dusty boot hit the ground. A fit young man pulled himself out, wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a green and black plaid flannel over it, a welding mask covering his face. Castiel nearly rolled his eyes again as the man strode forward, hand extended.

“Hey man, D-”

Castiel cut him off as he clasped his hand tight, feeling the roughness of his palm, callouses on the fingertips. “You’re an artist.”

The welding mask tipped to the side, the man’s body stiffening before his grip became crushing, a throaty chuckle echoing from behind the metal. “Not even close. Mechanic.” Castiel winced as his hand was pumped vigorously. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet ya.”

Castiel looked off-camera to Gabe. “I thought you said you weren’t bringing in Alphas this year.” His attention returned to Dean as he laughed harder this time.

“Wrong again. Man, this is gonna be fun.” Castiel jumped as one large hand clapped hard against his sternum twice before Dean began to walk away.

Castiel turned to watch him go, taking in his bow-legged gait as he entered the house to go do his first impression interview.

Dean was directed to a stool in the entryway situated in front of a camera and surrounded by lights. He plopped down, heaving a sigh as he flipped up his welding mask before pulling it off his head. He tried his best to ignore the murmurs from the women behind the camera as he dropped it to the floor with one hand, patting his hair down with the other. When he looked up, he could see everyone behind the camera had red eyes, except for the redheaded woman with the clipboard who looked annoyed.

“Sorry about them,” she muttered, jutting a thumb over her shoulder, and the Alphas blinked themselves back to brown or blue, “but in their defense I’m a Beta and a lesbian and woof your face is still pretty impressive.”

Dean managed to fight a blush as he gave a good-natured laugh. “It’s fine I get that a lot.” Dean shifted on his stool, situating his face into a calm, attentive expression, and waited for the Beta producer to look her fill.

“If you could start by stating your name, occupation and secondary gender for the graphics team. This is what will show at the bottom of the screen during your interviews.”

Dean gave a short nod. “I’m Dean Winchesteeeer…” He reached up to scratch at his ear. “Uh, mechanic.” He flicked up a hand and took a deep breath, sighing out, “Omega,” before letting his hand fall to his knee with a thump. It wasn’t enough to mask the unmistakable interested growls of the Alphas on the crew. The producer actually looked over her shoulder and glared at them.

“Go outside. All of you. Yes all of you the camera is stationary and already rolling I can turn it off when we’re done. Thank you. Byyyyyyye.”

Dean chuckled as the alpha cameraman and the other two, whatever they did, sulked away to the snack table. Dean let his amusement sit on his face as he looked back at the producer, who gave him a strained smile. “Sorry, again.”

“Not a problem. I figured I’d be just another piece of meat here anyway.” Dean gave an unaffected wave, and the producer frowned, marked something on her clipboard.

“I’m Charlie Bradbury-“

“Executive producer.” Dean nodded and stretched out a hand. “Nice to put a face to the name in the credits.”

Charlie shook his hand and gave him a surprised smile. “You watch the show?”

“Yeah!” Dean’s face scrunched as if to say, of course, I do, and Charlie tried to force back a laugh but only succeeded in choking herself. She knew the resulting grin he gave her was going to turn Alphas’ eyes red on couches across the country when this aired.

“So did you nominate yourself?”

Dean snorted. “No, no. I was completely content with this being my Thursday night guilty pleasure,” the guy actually licked his lips after he said it, and Charlie made a note to check if he’d done any acting. “My little brother actually nominated me. Said I need to find a nice Alpha and settle down.”

“That’s sweet.” Charlie jotted down, interview brother. “How old is your brother?”

“22,” Dean gave a casual shrug of his shoulder at Charlie’s questioning blink. “Yeah I know he’s also 6’4 so he’s really not that little but old habits die hard ya know? He’s in his first year at law school. He actually started watching the show his freshman year of college. It was one of those excuses to get everyone on the floor in the rec room and make friends.” Dean turned his head, squinting at the camera. “There may also have been a girl involved.”

Charlie let herself laugh this time. “But you also watch the show you said.”

Dean gave a nod. “Yeah, I mean he was in college and I didn’t understand half the shit… er, sorry.” Dean winced, and Charlie waved a hand before giving a sharp clap of her hands that made Dean jump.

“It’s so audio can find the cut faster. Makes a big jagged line in the file,” Charlie explained, and Dean’s eyebrows rose, lips twisting in an impressed expression. “Can you begin again at ‘I didn’t understand?’”

Dean cleared his throat and shifted on his stool again. “Uh yeah, um. I didn’t understand have the things he was talking about. I mean like I said I’m just a mechanic with a GED and a give em hell attitude.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless. She was definitely going to be rooting for this guy. “But he went on and on about the show because, like I said,” Dean widened his eyes and muttered conspiratorially through closed teeth, “there may have been a girl involved,” He shook his head and smile. “So I started watching just to have something to talk about with him.” Dean rubbed his palms up and down his thighs a few times. “Well and to help the poor kid talk to the girl. He’s smart and an Alpha but man is he bad with the ladies.” Dean gave a smirk that morphed into a grin before he looked at the floor.

“So are you looking for your One True Mate?” Charlie felt a warm flutter in her chest as Dean lifted his head, green eyes wide and full lips parted in genuine surprise before a blush began to creep up his neck.

“Ah… you know…” Dean grimaced and hissed, giving the camera a side-eye. “I’m not sure they exist.” He gave a shrug. “I mean, that Alpha out there?” Dean jutted a thumb over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Not a bad looking dude. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” Dean smirked again and chuckled. “But did my insides go gooey at the first whiff of his scent?” Dean scrunched his nose and shook his head.

Charlie smiled. “What did he smell like to you?”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them and doing a slow-motion fist pump as he mouthed yes. “The first smell montage. Seriously,” Dean gestured with both hands splaying his fingers and then wiggling them excitedly. “It’s my favorite.”

He cleared his throat as Charlie laughed again.

“Uh…hmmmm.” He pursed his lips, looking up and to the right, and Charlie was convicted this guy had at least modeled before because he found the light instantly. His eyes tightened just enough to slant his expression into a sultry stare but let the green of his eyes stay visible. “Rain.” He gave a satisfied nod and looked back at her. “Or, really, a thunderstorm. That thick smell before the thunder and lightening show starts.”

He nodded again, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. “Which seems pretty appropriate given the circumstances.”

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #spn fanfic #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

2 notes · View notes

hughgrantlesbian · 5 years

Text

Answer these questions then tag blogs you’d like to know better!

I was tagged by the lovely zigworth aka @chickenwristies

Nicknames: people have always called me tilly or tilda since i was little

Zodiac: pisces sun / aries moon / cancer rising

Height: 5′4 i think

Time: currently? 10:46pm

Favorite band/artist: i've been deep in the grips of my fifth and most intense taylor swift phase, but apart from that i love amy grant (esp her 80s stuff), alan parsons project, carly rae jepsen, arctic monkeys’ new album, billy joel, cliff richard, electric light orchestra, a whole lotta disco and 2000s pop, etc?

Song stuck in my head: edge of seventeen - stevie nicks

Last movie I saw: watched i, tonya the other night and i was shaken to my core

Last thing I googled: 90s i spy books

Other blogs: @lesbiantaylcr - taylor swift sideblog, @bisexualfinnhudson - very inactive glee sideblog that i don't talk about lmfao

Do I get asks: never

Why I chose this username: i thrift a lot of 90s clothes that were definitely worn by many grannies

Following: zigworth? always

Average amount of sleep: at least 9 hours usually, but it doesn’t feel like it

What I’m wearing: high waisted blue pants that are supposed to be flares but my legs are too short so we had to cut the flared bits off, stripy sailor top that says “dubrovnik” on it, pink leopard print dressing gown for warmth

Dream job: michael bublé - build a whole career out of singing christmas songs and being vaguely likeable...but with some other side jobs thrown in, like, i want to learn how to fix vintage stereos and cassette decks, and i kinda like the idea of acting in cute lesbian indie movies?

Dream trip: 2 weeks in a little log cabin in the victorian alps, all by myself with a gorgeous view and a log fire

Favorite food: i’ve been gorging myself on white chocolate and i feel sick, generally though i’m a big fan of anything salty

Play any instruments: i’m pretty ok at piano and pretty awful at guitar, but i also sing quite a bit with varying success

Hair color: naturally dishwater blonde, but i dye it auburny with henna

Languages you speak: english, high school french, 2 years of moderate german

Most iconic song: urgent - foreigner

Random fact: ever since my nineteenth birthday i’ve suddenly been good at housework and cooking/baking

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: stacks of vhs tapes, the smell of an iron gliding over linen shirts, vintage cookie tins in patterned orange, delicately fixing a broken cassette with tweezers and tape, glamour shots from 80s sewing magazines, slightly crooked wiry sunglasses, the high pitched whine of an analogue tv, a collection of various electrical cords

Tagging: @alienrealities @chogiwah lovely mutuals...you don’t have to do this but if you want go ahead!!

#idk personal #tag meme

1 note · View note

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Discover Something Rare Ch. 6 (Rajila) - Juniper

Summary: Despite her family’s plans, Manila has never cared about romance. She meets a beautiful artist named Raja, and everything changes. 60’s Lesbian AU.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading and leaving kind words!

All the leaves are brown And the sky is gray I’ve been for a walk On a winter’s day I’d be safe and warm If I was in L.A. California dreamin’ On such a winter’s day

“Oh, Nilly. It’s your favorite song! Dance just this once with me, and then I’ll leave you to sit and mope if that’s what you really want.”

Manila rolled her eyes in agitation and rose from the table. She let Archie lead them out onto the dancefloor, and she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. He guided her as she let her eyes scan the room.

It was delightful. Magnificent chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a golden glow. They glittered, making every corner sparkle. It was all terribly romantic, with winter decorations covering the walls, and unique centerpieces standing on the tables, covered in white confetti, made to emulate snowflakes. Everyone was dressed to the nines, glamorous gowns and tailored suits. Couples of all ages moved rhythmically, groups of women were casting judgmental glances, children whined of boredom. A man behind the bar handed out refreshments almost robotically. All the girls her age were sipping champagne and whispering in a boy’s ear. It was a different world for the rich, and they all looked perfectly content in their respective niches.

Manila, however, was incredibly angry. She wanted to dig her nails into Archie’s chest and rip out his heart, because that was how she felt. Abandoned. Embarrassed.

A pout was present on her face for all the pictures, and once again, she endured a lecture for trying to ruin the evening. It took all of her power to not swat her mother’s hands away as she attempted to pull the dress down further. Once in the car, she wrapped her coat around herself, not wanting to look at the damn thing. It was a silent ride, with not even Archie blind enough to attempt conversation. The dark cloud surrounding her seemed noticeable as soon as they entered the grand house, and she continued to simmer as Archie kissed middle aged women on the cheek.

She didn’t shed a single tear. After reading Raja’s note three times, she violently tore it up into as many pieces as she could, enraged. How foolish she’d been to make herself so sick over someone that gave up so easily.

Manila hated cowards.

“Please wipe that scowl off of your face,” Archie said lowly, as they moved in a routine. “People are going to talk.”

“I don’t care, Archie.”

“Well, I do, Manila,” He gave her waist a tight squeeze, and she swallowed a slew of curses. “This is a special night, and you’re acting like a child.”

She sighed; he wasn’t wrong. She supposed it wasn’t his fault that she was in such a rotten mood. He’d been patient when she refused to come out of her room, stood happily for all of her mother’s photos. He had done everything in his power to make her happy, and this was how she treated him?

The song ended, and he started toward their table, but she stopped him.

“Let’s keep dancing,” she said softly.

————–

If you had to rank narcissistic acts, Raja supposed sitting in front of the mirror and watching yourself cry was probably high up on the list.

Yet there she was, sniffling and rubbing at her red nose while she observed herself breaking down. She was an absolute mess, and there was no telling how long she’d been there. It could have been minutes or days.

Her stomach wailed out in turn, and she opted to order something to curb her hunger. Maybe the delivery man would take pity on a broken-hearted woman.

She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas all day, and every time she’d tried to work on something her hands wouldn’t cooperate.

This was for the best, she told herself. The pain would subside, it always did. Raja had been on her own before, this was nothing new. It was selfish for her to try and mold a brilliant young girl into something she wanted. Even if she had never wanted something so badly in her life.

Raja touched her canvas. She let out a choked sob as she traced the painting’s jawline. The eyes weren’t right. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t do them justice.

But they were happy. And with this sacrifice, Raja could ensure that in the long run, Manila would be happy.

————-

The night had started to look up. For the first time, Manila and Archie were having decent, engaging conversation, and she almost felt at ease. It was fun.

Actually managing to break a sweat, the two excused themselves out onto the balcony for some fresh air. The cold air felt heavenly on Manila’s skin.

They stood in silence for a while, the music muted by the set of the French doors behind them. There were pretty bushes clinging to life surrounding stone statues. Two stories up, the ground below was lost in the darkness. A single star managed to peak through the foggy night sky.

“I’m having a swell time, honey,” she admitted. “Thanks for dragging me out of the house.”

“You’re welcome. I know you’re ill now, Nilly. But this is just a bump in the road. You’ll get through this, you’re a fighter.”

She smiled softly, and bumped his shoulder. “You’re not all that bad yourself, I guess.”

“I’d hope not!” He gasped, and they laughed.

A few flakes of snow begun to float down from the clouds, and one tiny dust of ice landed right between them. Archie’s face grew serious.

“Listen, Nilly, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Mmhm?”

“I was going to do it in front of everyone, but I think the privacy might actually be better.”

She turned toward him just in time to see him go down on one knee. Manila was confused. Was this a joke?

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Nilly, the first time I saw you was in the fifth grade. I didn’t understand the lesson, and you walked across the room and kneeled by my desk. You drew out a diagram and stayed by my side until I got it. You are so kind. You’ve only grown more beautiful and intelligent as the years have gone by. I’m sure I’ve loved you since that first day.”

“You…you love me?” She blinked. He took her hand in his.

“What I’m trying to say is…Manila Luzon, will you marry me?“

“Stop, stop!” She tore away, hiding her hands behind her back. “Please. You’ve never even kissed me. I’m not ready for this.”

He rose, a confident smile on his face, and she stepped further away.

“There’s no rush, darling. We have the rest of our lives. But I can’t stand the thought of you getting away from me. We’ll be together, and we’ll be happy, and nobody else will get in our way.”

She was baffled. It felt like a bad dream. How had she wound up here? The hopeful glint in his eye was overbearing.

“Nobody else? What do you-“

Then it clicked.

In an instant, her face fell. She started shaking her head and backed up against the wall.

“My dress. You picked up my dress from Raja.”

“Nilly, listen, you were slipping away and-“

“God, Archie, what have you done?” She was shrieking now, and he looked panicked.

“Lower your voice, please. Let’s talk about this.”

Finally, she started to sob. She thought of Raja, how quick she was to try and hate her. How could she not have known? He was still trying to reason with her, and she covered her ears.

Archie placed a hand on her cheek and she slapped it away. Manila slid down against the brick. She gasped when she heard a tear and felt a coldness against her thigh. The dress was ruined, all of Raja’s hard work ruined, and it was all her fault. This whole mess was her fault.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re just having some sort of breakdown. Let me get your coat. We can go, go somewhere else and talk.”

Manila pushed past him and back into the party. Intrigued and concerned looks were coming at her from every angle. She could already hear the whispers of the women, knew what they would say. She was showing a shocking amount of skin, and her face was puffy and covered in running mascara. With Archie still running after her, she grabbed her coat and slipped out as fast as she could.

————

Raja numbly watched the smoke swirl out in front of her. She was blowing through her cigarettes at a rapid pace, and dreaded the thought of having to go out and buy more.

The buzzer rang and she was grateful that her food had finally arrived. She let them come up and made a half-baked attempt at looking composed. She pulled the door open with a smile on her face, which quickly fell when she saw who was on the other side.

#manila luzon #raja gemini #rajila #au #discover something rare #juniper #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #60s au

28 notes · View notes

torontohypnotherapist · 5 years

Photo

DECEMBER 26 — GEORGE GURDJIEFF QUOTES

A FAR GREATER INFLUENCE THAN OUR SCIENCE IMAGINES

The earth is one of the small planets turning round the sun. The mass of the earth forms an almost negligible fraction compared with the whole mass of planets of the solar system, and the planets exert a very great influence on the life of the earth and on all existing and living organisms—a far greater influence than our science imagines. The life of individual men, of collective groups, of humanity, depends upon planetary influences in very many things. The planets also live, as we live upon the earth.

~ George Gurdjieff as quoted by PD Ouspensky in “In Search of the Miraculous” ...

WITH A FLICK OF HIS WRIST, HE INDICATED THE INSIGNIFICANCE OF SUCH VALUES

When the music ended, Mr. Gurdjieff took Orage under his whip again. Music continued to alternate with bouts of shouting. I disliked all the smoke and uproar, so I quietly left the studio and rang for the elevator.

After a long wait, the elevator came. As I stepped inside, I felt something like lightning piercing me from behind. I turned around. There was Mr. Gurdjieff. He entered the elevator. The doors closed behind us.

"You here?" he said.

I thought, What a question! Of course I'm here.

"Where go? What do?" he asked.

"Oh," I said smiling, "I'm going back to a very interesting party. Writers, painters—the intelligentsia of New York. Do come along."

My job at the Opportunity Gallery had taught me the American skill of being a "good mixer." I thought I could use this facility to persuade Mr. Gurdjieff to return with me to the Stettheimers' party. What a feather in my cap that would be! Mr. Gurdjieff looked interested and I was hopeful.

We stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. We were just about to walk down the eight steps in front of Carnegie Hall when Mr. Gurdjieff put his hand on my shoulder.

"Now, stop," he said. "People wait me, not can go. Ch...Ch...il...ds. Where C h i l d s ?" He pronounced the name of the restaurant with the greatest difficulty, almost pain.

"Well," I said, "there are two Childs. One on Columbus Circle and one on Fifth Avenue. Which one?"

"Fi-.Fif... Fifth Avenue," he stuttered. Pressing my arm slightly, he asked, "Where?"

Mr. Gurdjieff gave the impression of being a helpless stranger lost in the big city. He was such a good actor that I was fully convinced he could not find his way without me as his guide. I even wished to be his guide.

We walked slowly along 57th Street toward Fifth Avenue. Mr. Gurdjieff’s steps were firm, his feet pointed outward, his arms crossed behind his back. He walked like no one else.

"What you do? Where you come from?" he asked. In the two long blocks between Carnegie Hall and Childs he drew forth almost everything about me. He seemed particularly pleased when I told him that I had two jobs and was supporting my mother.

As I was talking, I noticed we were walking past Henri Bendel, the store where the Stettheimer sisters bought their elegant clothes. The display of fashionable evening gowns in the store window attracted my attention, for I wanted to be elegant too.

Mr. Gurdjieff followed my gaze to the store window. With a flick of his wrist, he indicated the insignificance of such values. His gesture made such an impression on me that I felt that my attraction to fashion and elegance was only outward. Inwardly I didn't care a bit.

When we got to Childs Restaurant, the hatcheck girl took his Russian cap with delight and reverence. He walked deliberately toward a group of people crowded around two tables that had been pushed together. All faces turned toward me. Mr. Gurdjieff pulled out a chair tor me, sat down with his back to the rest of the people, and faced me. We continued to talk.

When Gurdjieff mentioned his rich wine cellar in the Prieuré, his chateau in Avon near Fontainebleau, France, I paid close attention because of my father's connection with wine. As I listened to Mr. Gurdjieff, I had the clear impression that he and I were far away from everyone else, that only I could hear what he was saying. It suddenly struck me, How does he speak? In what language? Do I understand? Where am I? I felt that while there was something in me that was listening, it wasn't anything in my body. When Mr. Gurdjieff finally turned to talk to the other people, I excused myself and left.

Back on the street again I felt just as confused as Mr. Gurdjieff had appeared to be in front of Carnegie Hall. I had to stop. Then I saw the choice. To the left was the party and the lobster—representing all that my recent life in New York had meant. To the right was the hotel where I had a quiet room—representing an unknown and yet more real possibility. I turned right.

~ Louise Goepfert March "The Gurdjieff Years" ...

THE BRAIN IS JUST A MUSCLE

I was always running up against the injunction that "by taking thought a man cannot add a cubit to his stature." The Gurdjieff mentation was supposed to be the wedge that entered just here. "The brain is not an organ with which to arrive at truth. The brain is just a muscle. 'Mind' as we know it merely uses words, formulates reactions, runs out a chain of associations, repeats received ideas, stirs up a heap of impressions received passively." This statement led to a summation: "The first step in becoming an adult is to realize that things are done to us, not by us." There, within a sentence, was a concept with dimensions.

There, within the framework of the concept, was the quintessence of a theory and a technique which Gurdjieff presented not as a unique theory but as a unique activity. There, in a single formulation, was expressed our adherence to this unknown doctrine in which, for the first time, we were hearing things that were not merely repetitions of things we had already heard.

~ Margaret Anderson “The Fiery Fountains — My Thirty Years’ War” ...

“Jane asked me if I would speak to Ouspensky about her going to one of his groups. I did so, but he refused, on the ground that the 'work' was not for such types, that it was not possible to do anything with such people. ~ CS Nott - Journey Through This World

The reason Ouspensky said this was because Jane Heap was a well known lesbian. George Gurdjieff saw something in her and formed a small group he called the Rope in the 1930's that contained both straight and lesbian women. They did some interesting work. Jane Heap was probably the most advanced one of this group. ...

IF YOU WANT TO DO THIS EXERCISE IN DETAIL. YOU CAN REALLY ESTABLISH A TELEPATHIC CONTACT, LIKE WITH A TELEPHONE

AE: When I try to visualize someone, I observe two things: first, if I make an effort, the sensation that comes from the simple act of thinking about the person; and second, something that I’m not able to find — the image.

GURDJIEFF: It is possible, but not always. There is a very good method for seeing from inside, and that is knowing exactly in what direction the person you are thinking of is located. That will help you and it is easy to do. I advise you to visit each others apartments if possible. Try to know as exactly as possible in what place and in what conditions each one of you lives. This is very important for later, if you want to do this exercise in detail. You can really establish a telepathic contact, like with a telephone. You are an apparatus; the other person, another apparatus. People can get to this, little by little.

Begin by getting to know the places where your friends live and approximately when they go to bed. If you take all this into consideration, it will help you. Since you have asked me the question, find a way to do what I advise. It is very important. You must go there in thought. You can ask each person how they like to spend their time, what posture they prefer, so that you can visualize them in this posture. Ask them how they dress at home. The more details you know, the better you will be able to visualize them.

In general, everyone understands this exercise. But it is only a preparation: little by little you must prepare yourself for another exercise. There may be a great deal of preparation before doing the real exercise. It is easier for you because you have already done something similar with the different parts of the body.

~ “G. I. GURDJIEFF — Paris Meetings 1943”

0 notes