#yes we lived like this for three decades yes it fucking sucked. yes some people are extremely protective over how bad it sucked
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mean absolutely zero hate by this at all but talking to non book fans casually about certain details of the book is literally the funniest shit ever like yall are so sweet you dont know anything. yes aziraphale gets called a faggot in the book. by an eleven year old girl. and yes crowley revives the dove at the birthday party not aziraphale. and book fans got so mad about this change that they initially boycotted the show when it came out in 2019. dont worry I dont get it either. please continue to be confused about all this it makes my day every time I see someone in my tags be outraged they put homophobic slurs in a book written in 1989 <3
#yes we lived like this for three decades yes it fucking sucked. yes some people are extremely protective over how bad it sucked#again absolutely no hate i think you guys are so so funny. i wish i was as oblivious as you#oh to only know the version of this story where the angel and demon are actually gay and people dont draw aziraphale with blue eyes. sigh#good omens
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the time I trolled 4chan as a fake flat earther for six hours in 2012
In July 2012, I got on 4chan and pretended to be a flat earther. I passionately argued for flat earth theory for six hours with almost no break. I kept a single thread going the whole time, getting over 400 replies. I’m not sure if I still have a PDF of the thread, but I do have some quotes from people who responded to me. Looking back over this a decade later, I am proud.
[CW: Slurs]
"There's no way you're actually this dumb. There's just no way."
"the flat earth society is one of the best trolls i've ever seen, in all those days of /b/"
"I tried some scientific research on this topic a while ago. I ordered a pizza, got two because the first was not what I ordered. I let the first dry out under a light bulb. Eventually, after a couple weeks, living creatures started populating Planet Pizza, after a while orbiting their home planet. This is proof, that the earth is flat.
tl;dr Earth is a pizza, probably on a bigger pizza which probably is in a room with an even bigger pizza."
"Sir your thesis contradicts climate, you don't know what refraction is, you can't explain day and night, ebb and flow and you're also paranoid and/or outright stupid since you believe in conspiracy theory."
"You are a stupid faggot, and the whole of society would be better if you stopped breathing it's air.
...unless, of course, you're a troll. In that case, I'll award you an 8/10."
"I however, HAVE BEEN TO SPACE. Twice.
I assure you, having orbited the planet many times, it is indeed a sphere.
OP is an idiot, his only defense against me is 'omg gimme proof' which I can, and once given, 'u r part of the illuminatee'
Ugh. Ignorant dumb ass piece of shit."
"Damn OP 9/10"
"If we dealt with this on a daily basis i would kill myself."
"Yes my jimmies are rustled, because I hate ignorant, inbred fucks like OP. Go die in a hole. Oh wait, you couldn't, you'd be scared of just falling through into space."
"10/10 OP good trolling, keeping in character and sounding legit"
"9/10 OP. My jimmies will be rustled for the whole rest of the day after reading this tripe."
"[S]ome eyebrows must be raised in the direction of the /b/ros still continuing to argue about this.
Better standard should be expected from you guys, but taking away nothing from OP. Excellent work."
"If you're not a failtroll you are, by far, one of the most deluded and idiotic people I've ever seen post on /b/, which is a tremendous feat."
"9/10 for commitment"
"love this thread op 10/10 for still being here." (This was three hours in.)
">Focuses on the obscurely worded
>Ignores every other point
>Provides no answers
About what I was expecting."
"Go hung yourself, please
Humanity doesn't need such stupid people like you are"
"I'd believe someone who says the earth is flat compared to someone who claims otherwise and can't grammar correctly."
"I haven't laughed so hard at something on /b/ for a long time."
"OP, I'm not gonna bother asking you anything. I just wanted to let you know this is
the best thread I have seen as long as I can remember. You truly are amazing. Good fucking job."
"nice arguments though i am in awe of your reckless faggotry and ignorance and skills of producing believable logical fallacies."
(Four hours in)
"I can't believe this thread is still going. OP is the most successful troll of all time."
">Earth is flat
>Every other celestial body is round
>mfw
1/10"
"Great thread. You are not a troll, I saw you other times here and I knew personally a man from this society."
"holy shit 0 of fucking 10"
"Billiard balls are also flat. Isn't it obvious that they sprites?"
"10/10 OP wins"
">almost 5 hours of this shit
10/10"
"Big respect OP. OP is alpha as fuck"
"but seriously, OP is the man
destroying everyone with his devasting arguments for hours
huge respect man
if i would suck a cock then I'd suck yours and I'd propably come before you do"
"3/10.
Painfully obvious troll, yet impressive to see so many anons actually failing to make a compelling argument."
"Willy Wonka travelled around the world in 80 days, and ended up back where he started, just in time for tea. You can't explain that."
"Did you ever wonder what happened to Amelia earhart? She flew too far. Gov't shot her down past the ice wall. They obviously couldnt have her come back from that trip, she would tell everyone"
"I myself subscribe to modern rational empiricism, in accordance to which OP's arguments are absolute bullshit. And yet the attempts to challenge his unfalsifiable beliefs have proven mostly futile. A great majority of those posting in this thread have no idea why they should believe the earth is round."
"There has to be trolling here, I seriously can't believe what I am reading."
"this is beyond epic"
"I'm starting to enjoy this so i'm upping you from a 2/10 to an 8 but it ends now."
"OP is now argueing since 6 hours. This is the longest discussion I've ever seen in my life. Of ALL discussions, not only 4chan."
"arguments presented thus far by flatty:
>did you personally do the experiment? no? then the results are invalid
>here's my evidence; as demonstrated in this experiment someone else did
also
>oh; you did the experiment itself and it basically shows that the earth is round?
>there's probably crazy gravity or some shit; hell if i know
or
>just because we can't explain every one of these phenomena and a spherical model can doesn't mean we're wrong. i'm serious you guys
also
>pictures lie and you should never believe them; despite mind boggling quality and quantity available for universal use online"
"Explain how we can have fat asses and tennis balls but a flat fucking earth."
"9/10 OP, well done!"
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Tales from the Frost
Stories following the conclusion of the RP Arc, TOWER.
Stories: 1 2 [3] 4
Dear Zelimir
Dear Zelimir,
We’re coming. Sorry it took almost three decades. Life’s stranger than fiction nowadays and there’s a lot for us to catch up on. Like how I ended up traveling with your murderer to find your resting place, for starters.
Civil war burned Garlemald to cinders, but we survived. Something incomprehensible possessed the world and turned the sky red, but we survived that, too. You always said I was tenacious, but I don’t think you meant it’d be enough to weather two apocalypses.
Somewhere in the middle, we (the Tappers. Sofi misses you too, you know) stumbled on a weird town of magitek, complete with a freaky Overseer, robot farmers, and who knows what else. Was just us at first. Bunch of Garleans joined later. Some of them were the sorriest looking bastards I’d ever seen but some of them were just bastards, so much so that they tried to reestablish Garlemald, shackles and all.
Zelimir, I think you’d be proud to hear that we’re living side by side with many of these bastards now. You shouldn’t be, though. If the Final Days didn’t happen, we’d still be at each other's throats, but we (all of us) lived through some very horrific things. Didn’t know if the next day would be our last, didn’t have the spoons to care about fucking beans when literal depression monsters were hunting us down. Stranger than fiction, again.
I knew Marcellus killed you. I thought about it every day. I thought about it when I led our ragtag band of soldiers to defend our freaky magitek home against even freakier blasphemies, and I threw him into less than favorable fights because of it. You know me. I would’ve killed all the bastards if I had the chance, but...things happened. Hands were tied at the time. I’m bitter about you though, so I had hoped, and figured if he died in combat, well. That’s just war. But being in the trenches changes a man so, yes. He killed you, but he saved me too. Saved Sofi. We saved each other so that we could live another day like cockroaches. That was our new normal, insanity and violence and all.
The Final Days eventually ended, after more wars, more kidnappings, and more shit that flew straight over my head. Giant...spaceship at one point. Man. I don’t even know. Sometimes I want to believe it was all collective madness, but then, I’ll wake up and the signs will still be there. I half expect the skies to turn red again honestly. Peace feels like it could be taken away at any second.
Anyway, Marcellus confessed. Almost three decades later, when there’s practically nothing left of you except for memories, he confessed. Said you didn’t crack and reveal any of the other members of the underground. I hated hearing about it but it’s closure, still. And your body is long rotten and lost, your records wiped and destroyed, but we’re coming anyway, to the place you passed away. So I can say goodbye and Marcellus can...apologize.
You shouldn’t forgive him. He’s an ass. Terrible pokerface, awful taste in beer, his mustache sucks. Thinnest hair I’ve seen on a lip. I haven’t forgiven him and neither should you, but he’s trying, and he needs to live with this. No amount of justice will bring you back, so I guess I’m settling for second best.
These days, I’m restless wondering if this is enough. If this peace is enough, if evil got punished enough, if they’re repentant enough, if I’ll ever be satisfied. There are holes in me where you fit. Where all the good Tappers who died under the Empire fit. Is it fair that your murderer lives? Is it fair that he has a second chance? I don’t think so, but now, he’s a part of me too. There’s a hole where Marcellus would leave, too, and the trenches change a man. They leave you riddled with bullet holes.
I know you had hopes for me and I’ve always tried to live up to them but, Zelimir, maybe the reason I lived and you didn’t is because I’m not good. I want people to suffer as I have. I would’ve executed someone I now care about and been none the wiser. My pain, our pain. It’ll be forgotten one day...maybe recorded in words, but the distance will grow. One day, there won’t be anyone left that knows you personally. Is this a good thing? Is this just the way life is? That we live, just to be forgotten?
I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me.
Sincerely,
Vanya Kvetasch
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Cindered Shadows Ch 6 - End
It's going to feel sooooo good to have this finished. Because after this, I'll have beaten all of Three Houses content and can focus on Warriors.
STORY
I feel so bad for Balthus, Hapi, and Constance. Betrayal sucks. Like, I'm sure Yuri has some excuse or whatever we'll learn later, but it must hurt for them now.
So how did Aelfric find all these crest people if they kept it such a secret?
Constance being like, this background is too ugly for me to die in!
Glad Balthus is rightfully angry about this.
I realllly hope there's more to it than "I have yer mom! Yergh!" from Aelfric and Yuri. Because there's just not enough time left for a proper "rebuild trust" arc if that's all that's going on because like . . . why not just tell them??
Aelfric is batshit 🤣😂 🤣😂
Wait, is that green-haired lady Byleth's mom?? I thought I remembered something about that.
OMG - AELFRIC IS SNAPE OMG 🤣😂 🤣😂 But like unhinged!Snape.
These guys are way more forgiving than I would be about this.
I really cannot follow Yuri's thought process here though. Like for a guy who talks non-stop about "I've been though all this tough shit" and everyone is like "he's o so cunning" when someone held his mom hostage for a situation that would result in him dying, his friends dying, and having to betray everyone his grand plan was . . . nothing?? Just go along with everything Aelfric said?
Oh, his grand plan was, Byleth. I should've known, lamo. The flames in the background behind him look badass though.
I mean, why is Aelfric surprised.
I don't know why he didn't just come clean to Rhea and/or Byleth though. Like, he could've at least told them where it would take place . . .
Still, if I were one of Yuri's friends, I'd slap him and never talk to him again after this. But I'm very bad with grudges.
Constance is the only sane one. Yuri's like, our lives are getting drained by a madman and our only hope is a mercenary who doesn't know where we are find us, but like don't panic because I have - a plan! Which like, tell them what it is for once, dude.
Seems like they borrowed a lot from what people say about Claude (but doesn't seem actually true) and put it into Yuri? Like, oh, he's a genius schemer you can't trust.
BATTLE
My brother warned me about this chapter. Saying prayers that Constance and Hapi don't prove too hard to keep alive since they're wayyyyy more fragile than Balthus and don't dodge like Yuri.
Poor Linhardt not wanting to watch the blood. Dimitri distressed that people are in danger.
Yuri, your plan fucking sucks.
OMG it does damage to everyone. I want Mercedes with Fortify back.
I could kiss Dimitri right now. Everyone else is fucking useless, doing like 8 damage to Aelfric, missing every hit, and he's over here doing 44 damage and actually hitting shit. This is king behavior, Claude better take some fucking notes (he was utterly useless against Aelfric).
Dimitri MVP. Yes. No one else was even a possibility.
And, like, the funny thing, that Dimitri's maybe like 1 or 2 levels ahead of Claude, Ashe, and Hapi, yet they all did jackshit to kill Aelfric with their puny 4x2 damage - at most - and missing 75% and 85% chances, while Dimitri's over here telling Aelfric to eat shit and die.
STORY
Aelfric is surprised that we're fighting him. He's delusional.
I guessed right, though, it's Byleth's mom.
Dimitri's like that's not a two decade old corpse, dude.
Aelfric's motivation is sooooo, yeah.
Rhea's like shut up. I'm not explaining myself to you. That's also King behavior.
Dimitri, once again, being the person worrying about others, concerned the wolves are too injured to fight.
Oh, good, Balthus punched Yuri. Deserved. Also King behavior. So now we're up to three kings.
Nice to see everyone calling Yuri out for not trusting his friends. If only Claude would've gotten the same treatment. It actively makes me less angry with Yuri BECAUSE he got called out. It's nice when you get to release that emotion through characters. If only Crimson Flower took notes.
Aelfric is . . . really pathetic. Not for supporting her with Jeralt, that's great actually, but like . . . everything else is . . . yeah.
Oh, 21 years ago. Guys, we know Byleth's age!!! So Byleth's only a few years older than the students, probably younger than some of them.
No matter how hard they try, I'm just going to find this pathetic.
Rhea sounds like an angry mom at a child that won't stop playing video games and not doing their homework.
Everyone's like, stop, this isn't going to work, but Aelfric is . . . yeah. Channeling his inner Orson I guess.
Oh, he's finally one with his love, as a beast, lamo.
Dimitri's delivery on that last line, that little shake, he sounds scared, and now I'm super pissed at Aelfric.
Good on Yuri for taking responsibility for this mess. I don't blame this all on him, but by him taking responsibility, more than he needs to, I'm more willing to forgive. Again, it's too bad Crimson Flower didn't take note.
And for some reason, we won't have playable Rhea in this chapter for no good reason. I don't even have to see the map to know that.
BATTLE
Final battle, let's go. I think my brother said the tiles move people around randomly in this chapter. Looking forward to that. Not.
I'm not worried about Dimitri, Edelgard, Yuri, Byleth, or Balthus, but everyone else . . . . Hilda, Ashe, and Claude can take a hit, but like only one or two and they don't dodge enough. But Linhardt, Constance, and Hapi - not looking forward to that. Esp Linhardt who infantry, the other two and likely run away at least.
BALTHUS HAS HEALING FOCUS - ARGHHH. WHY DIDN'T I CHECK THAT BEFORE I PLAYED THE LAST MAP. I feel like SUCH an idiot right now.
I like how Dimitri and Claude are encouraging caution. Dimitri should take not for himself about that though.
He's dead. Took a team effort, but we're through now.
Byleth MVP. Deserved.
WRAP-UP
I like how Sitri made a choice, and Rhea respected that choice.
So Rhea really did a magical heart transplant.
Man, if it's really Byleth's mom's heart in there, that just makes the line in CF about wanting to get rid of their nabatean blood even sadder.
Kinda creepy Rhea didn't just burry her though.
So is this cannon to the main plot? Because if it's not then it's funny imagining Aelfric trying to make his crush come back to life while there's a continent wide war going on.
So if the AW house is disbanded, then they join a main house now, right? Oh, Abyss is still around though.
Love how Rhea tells Yuri that he's slain the underserving and now has to deal with the guilt. This man and Dimitri need a support.
Approve of Constance going to Faerghus. Good for her.
I can't believe they're letting Hapi roam free though, with her weird power. IDK she seems dangerous to everyone alive.
Ashe sounds so dissapointed that Yuri's going back to being a thief or . . . whatever he was.
I had Byleth say he'd look after the Abyss, which after all the other stuff I had Byleth say (i.e. always ready to run away screaming), isn't exactly meaningful lamo.
Lamo, Dimitri assuming Claude's motivations aren't always selfish. He's always trying to assume the best about Claude.
This was pretty fun to play, actually. Makes me wish the maps and goals were a bit more creative in the main game. It was challenging without ever being frustrating. Though, I played Normal.
DLC is now finished. Feels good
XXXX
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not that ive had anything near a 'normal' year in well over a decade but thinkin about how proper fukt and hectic thiis one has been
beginning of year was working for one of the most insane managers/companys i ever have
middle of march i put in my two weeks, because in addition to a Lot of other reasons that i had already been struggling to not leave over, my manager straight up DOXXED a coworker(/their family member) on linkedin--and on the company linkedin as well no less--and some other drama that was just the last straw and i wanted some scrap of sanity back and to avoid that happening to me
end of march, hear that its not just possible but likely current roommate is moving, and while i *couldlve* gone with, it was an area i didnt want to go to
uncertainty from march-august, and not much progress made on job apps in that time because that is Such a huge/panic inducing process for me anyway without being unsure of living situation on top of it
roommate moving confirmed, i try and find someone who could take their spot where i already was but a lot of my friends had literally *just* moved in the last few months, so missed my chances
move in with some friends who already have so little space and money and now they have to share with me
finally hear about a job in like november
the job changes .. many times. first its a call center gig for this company, then they call back with 'the same thing but for a slightly different thing under the same parent company', and it actually does sound a little less hellish, so i go with that. all of the paperwork/emails i receive have the name of the first company on them, but when i asked about it they said it was just because of the parent company thing it was all good. they have me pick a schedule... all of the options are 40 hours, i had not asked too many specifics because i dont have the luxury of being picky rn, but i have never worked full time and am already always exhausted and cant stay awake all day, so this is going to be absolute hell. also there are 12 days where additional hours are Required, 4 of which i wouldve otherwise had off
i pick a schedule. they write back that some things changed here are some other schedules to pick from, i pick a new schedule. when we had initially talked on the phone for the first company i was told a setup day end of november and starting in december, but because of returning people/potentially from moving to the other, now im not starting until the end of january, which fucking sucks because ive been at $0 and owing friends for covering me for months. get a call saying some people dropped out, do i want to start a week earlier? yes ofc i do i need the money. get a call again saying the same thing, so now im starting the beginning of january instead.
equipment arrives: it is.....one small box......with the tiniest dinkiest little laptop with a whole entire one USB port and one USB-C port...great, perfect, this will work so well considering my monitor is VGA, and all three of my headset, mouse, and keyboard are USB connections. i do happen to have a USB to USB-C adapter for other things, but thats still only 2 of the 4 things i need plugged in. i tell them this, they through a series of CC'ing other people into the email find someone who knows where my Other equipment is. theyve sent me another monitor that has a USB-C connection and a (extremely chintzy) USB splitter. ok, technically everything can be plugged in now, whatever
we have a setup teams meeting: the lady running it mentions they just wana make sure our mics/cam work and then we can have them off for the meeting, 'because youre going to need both of them right? :)'. no. no i had bETTER not need both of them you are NOT having me ON FUCKING CAMERA for 40+HOURS A WEEK i will SCREAM.
but then. oh, oh boy howdy, and then...
the meeting was for both of the roles id been offered because the initial setup for both is the same, people for both the assignments are present. last i knew, i was on company B. i already have 15 pages of notes for company B from things i could find on the website and in manuals because i am an anxious bitch and wanted to make the first few weeks as painless as possible for me, im not confident, but i do have a fairly decent start and a basis understanding of the software already, so im a little less nervous about it
then the lady mentions...that....if youre with company A, you were sent one monitor, and if youre with company B...you were sent 2...
......i look up at my Singular monitor
and type in chat like 'hiiii um, so im with company B but was only sent the one monitor ?'
lady has someone else present double check my assignment
and they send
"youre with company A :)" legitimately with a smiley face
and when i tell you i am losing my shit-
15 pages of notes useless. company A is going to be higher call volumes and for a more generalized people which means more stupid questions and more confused customers. from what i can find on the website, their only support option seems to be phones, so there isnt even the possibility of having emails or chats which i Greatly prefer to phone calls, the other one had email at least. NONE of the emails they sent me said ANYTHING about the change, i can only assume it was one of the phone calls where they asked if i wanted to move up a week in the schedule, but it was NOT made clear i was changing anything other than the start date, just "theres an opening in the other class", and in the follow-up emails each time they only said "Thanks for your quick move to this new schedule" and "I'm excited for your earlier start date!", which does NOT imply i have been switched assignments
yall..im devastated lmao. i can never just Find A Job it always has to be some fucking batshit insane garbage like this
i start next week and im ......not excited to say the least ;w;
it only goes until april...but its going to be 40+ hour weeks (and i *doubt* any overtime pay, its technically a contractor role), on exclusively phone support (i fucking hate phones they make me mad anxious), i still havent been able to get solid notes for this one because their website is fucking unhinged and its taking me Forever to dig through it all, the laptop is tiny asf and there is no space in the shared room ive got rn to set it up in a way thats good at a desk or something im probably going to be sitting on the edge of the bed and using my shelf as a table which i Know from experience is going to kill my back and neck esp with the longer hours, they potentially want my camera on while working which is Not happening i might get fired for that even if i can keep up with the hours, and if i do get fired or quit? this job came through a recruiting agency which had got me one of my last remote jobs, and i dont think theyd be too quick to help me find something else if this one ends badly, so im really kind of forced to continue even if i didnt have such a pressing need for income asap
and all of this.. for a whole entire $16/hr :'D
happy fucking new years ;_;
#kill me#pLease fucking kill me i have been begging for 6 years#also the entire back and forth with emails for paperwork the person In Charge was incapable of writing sentences longer than 2 words#without it being riddled with typos and not making any sense#i hate being so poor i dont have the luxury of being able to chose what my job is#i really kind of just have to take whatever i can get#cos for a variety of reasons im trying to find something remote#and SO much of that shit is healthcare or lawyers or super advanced coding#almost everything else is call centers/adjacent#im going to be so incredibly dead#my last call center job sometimes got to 37 hours and i was so damn tired#and they werent even that busy half the season#i am......Concerned about what theyre expecting for call volume#hoping and praying to a god i will shoot on sight that the 'youll need the camera' is more geared toward company B#cos i just cant man#that adds so much extra strain from having to be aware of what my face is doing constantly#ill disintegrate#fuck this#just me#rant#also i fuckin hate new yyears in general this is Not a good fuckin time#hhhhHHHSeokafnjdhULJDKLFANSBHjnlkhbjnBFNAKFLGAH;FGJNAIR#A#long post
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do you think that -- if they WERE planning to do gay angel press initially -- part of the reason they didn't might have been the (reactionary) bury your gays backlash from fans and non-fans? in which case. twitter rly does ruin everything. :/
I’m not tied to this but here’s a hypothetical to work through that at least provides a theory on the lack of gay angel press (probably not very different from any other theory on this website but just writing it out for continuity),
okay. pre-pandemic. the arc of the final few episodes seems to have been set and 15.18 was the last piece, pending jensen’s approval. roadhouse heaven ending was a go — presumably featuring a cas cameo among other various and sundry friends. approving 15.18 introduces a problem by way of the fact that cas has just confessed his undying love for dean and there’s an expected response. but it’s fine! you don’t actually need that, you’ve been baiting fans for a decade, you can work your magic one more time with a lil wink and nudge and never have to deal with that again. ambiguous “to each his own” ending, you talk up the gay angel on one side and the bronly-ness of the last hunt on the other; everyone walks away happy. you have successfully threaded the needle of finishing off a twelve year queerbait without “caving to the fans,” high fives all around.
15.18 gets filmed. the angel is gay gay. the footage is. we don’t know what the footage looks like. there could be anything. maybe there’s a kiss with tongue. ends up not really mattering because the pandemic happens and they have to stop shooting and stop airing. no idea how much changes in 15.19 (clearly SOME stuff considering we know the folks who got chuck snapped in the silo were supposed to be shown back in the flesh and that got cut). 15.20 has to change — so roadhouse heaven becomes three person heaven (plus the cast and crew, who were already on set so no, this is not proof they could have brought a crowd of actors anyway, it’s just. weird. I don’t like this decision. strikes me as authoritative like WE told the story not YOU. anyway). putting cas in three person heaven makes winking and nudging a lot harder to do and would make the absence of an actual substantive response to the confession uhhhh very obvious. so you have to cut cas. and then maybe you have to cut other references to cas in 15.19, maybe you cut some emotionality from dean’s side in 15.18, maybe you straight up insert the moment in 15.20 where dean tells sam to stop being an eeyore about cas’s death! we don’t know how much was changed, but there was at least the opportunity at this point to dull dean’s response to the whole thing so the absence of cas in heaven is more palatable. it’s the bronly ending, but you already gave the audience the gay angel. and the gay angel is alive and building heaven with his son! no more cashing in on the queerbait but still cashing in on canon gay.
it’s november 5th. 15.18 airs. it trends higher than the biggest election “of our lives.” holy shit! gay angel! but of course the issue is the people responding aren’t the people who have been watching the show. they don’t have context for what’s going on and “turbohell” catches on. fuck. did you kill the gay angel? of course not, he’s in heaven with his son! lisa berry can post her goodbye instagram to her character because obviously billie’s dead, she’s the villain. she’s not expected to come back. but cas is... cas is different. and he’s not dead and you won’t be taking any questions on this until we get to the end, when everyone can settle down. so you have your actors gush about the episode, you leave everyone on pins and needles so they’ll come back for two more, and then! well. 15.20. cas is “alive” technically. dean is dead, as you always planned. some people are happy, some people are middling, and some people are fucking pissed at you because apparently by not outright killing off the gay angel you promised them the gay angel was coming back. any clarification you would offer here would unspool your entire plan — gay angel on one side, brothers on the other. erasing cas isn’t the same as killing him, but you can’t say that (though misha basically did in response to the rogue translator shenanigans). killing dean wasn’t even supposed to be about cas, but now everything is about cas. you took him out of the story completely and he’s still managed to take over. and all you can say is, well, it’s always been a story about brothers.
this obviously doesn’t account for everything, such as what the fuck was uriel’s actor doing? why the fuck did the show actually give us the instructions for how to get someone out of the empty and not do it? and there’s an infinite number of things that could have happened that I would simply never guess not knowing specific onset dynamics and money decisions. whatever happened that caused this clusterfuck really does suck for everyone in that writers room who was on team gay angel because, as I have said in the past, 15.18 only works due to at least four years, if not seven or more, of consciously writing the angel as gay. I hope bobo and yockey and even misha feel personal satisfaction at a job well done, but god if a single fucking interview could at least let us indulge in the victory with them. anyway, all of this is to say, yes I do think the bury-your-gays of it all definitely plays into it (and I would say, again, linking this to it chapter 2, it’s significant muschietti and co decided to make richie gay over eddie; people who haven’t read the book might not know that eddie like. literally drinks mineral water. in the 80s. he wears gucci loafers. he marries a carbon copy of his mother. stephen king would never admit to writing a gay man but that was a gay man. but eddie dies! eddie always dies. so they had some good sense in giving the gay story to the one who lives and leaving the dead one holding all the coding). and I definitely think randos on twitter making fun of the confession did not help matters. but I also think the decision to pull press cannot be extricated from the rubble of the last two episodes and everything they promised but never delivered. literally a single second of cas in the finale would have been their golden ticket! that’s far more than what jj did for star wars! but they got played at their own game by, of all things, an international pandemic. somehow a very supernatural ending after all.
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i hate to think about the future of the sport bc tbh i hate to think about the future period but i think that today’s discussion between las vegas gp and monaco has much worse questions to be asked than the ones i’ve seen around so i would like to bother people atm.
first thing is that i actually think that the las vegas project is the one that f1 should have tackled waaay back when they wanted to get back to the us after indy. it has the pseudo prestige, it has the big sponsors, it has the big fuck off glitz that would get an american to watch formula 1. i get why they would want to conquer america, it’s the one demographic that had eluded f1 (and in a way, it’s refreshing to see european demographics ignored the same way us rest of the world are) and if you consider this is the sport that had people crashing themselves to guarantee a race win then yes, they’re gonna get competitive everywhere. sucks that they needed a pandemic and netflix to actually get sponsors convinced to race there, and the track is wack, but again, fits with the whole decadent theme they’re going for. COTA is one of the tracks of all time, so you also get why she is there, it’s the whole miami project that’s redundant but it does reek of “we weren’t sure we’d get vegas on board but now since we’re here, we might as well”
the thing is that f1 knows DtS is dying, even before we did. drivers don’t want to participate in it because they know it’s all manufactured and teams have ruined every bit of originality it had to use it as PR instead. netflix doesn’t do long running shows and f1 fans are more quick to turn against things than the internet on zoe kravitz. but dts was a way to get in america and now they have to capitalise on it as much as they can, that is, by getting your above average paycheck murican who likes to collect attendance tickets like thanos and the infinity stones and get him to pay up for all three. the rest of the fandom they refuse to make f1 accessible to? they still will watch those gps and talk about them a lot. it’s three american grand prix, one of them will stick way after dts is over and the ones that don’t will be as profitable as they can during their short lives. miami and las vegas are street circuits and that’s a plus: less expensive than the regular tracks to set up, still capable of getting that grade 1 to fia’s standards. not a lot of investment to justify them sticking around for 15 years but still enough to get money. good.
but now, if you ignore the whole american conundrum and the sportswashing, there is a hard pill to swallow and that’s the fact that formula 1 outgrows its traditions because it’s raised to do so. every year they learn they can do better, faster cars (which is their one goal) and the thrill of making them is far greater than the “respect” for the history of the sport. i mean, if you make them safe and capable of going around 57 laps on a row than that’s all that matters. and if you are looking at it from a technical aspect, well, you can’t stop a car from growing up because of a track. monte carlo has been the landscape of some of f1’s most beautiful and cruel moments, but f1 must make beautiful and cruel moments that sell elsewhere. so, what the fuck can you do about it? and i mean that question because i am a monaco enthusiast and i will defend its permanence on calendar for much longer because fuck it, it’s the crown jewel still and one quali lap there has more thrills that some entire race weekends elsewhere. i think monaco is as safe as long as the complaints of longer championships don’t get to higher management, which is not a lot of time as we’re getting closer to 25 races each and each year. f1 and fia will try to accommodate as many races as possible until the unions have enough.
but like, once it’s over and it’s that or oil money or freedom money, then yeah, euro races are fucked and history will be in the books alone. but how can you pay back to those tracks? we already have the Grands Prix Historiques in monaco and france but unfortunately no one checks for them which is a shame, because they are a nice alternative to keep things going. if football has friendlies, maybe an alternative would be to make the occasional « f1 parade/demo » on countries that have motorsport history but not enough to actually host a race anymore. or maybe it’s time albert thinks about where in monaco he could actually fit a grade 1 fia circuit.
this isn’t very satisfying, actually. shit.
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woke me up from the longest dream
Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.
Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda
ao3
"Why is it so fucking cold?"
"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.
Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.
However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t.
"Are you not cold?"
"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.
Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.
He decided to keep quiet.
"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.
They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.
Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.
"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.
"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.
How many times could he tell himself to grow up?
"What can I help you two with?" she asked.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him.
The woman stared at him, face unchanging.
"Who's asking?"
"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."
She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later.
"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."
"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air.
"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."
And Michael did as he said.
"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."
"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing."
"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.
"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder.
"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."
Corrie laughed.
Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.
"Thank you "
"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."
It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.
"Thank you."
"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."
"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.
"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"
Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace.
"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself.
The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.
By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room.
"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized.
"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."
Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally.
"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room.
"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."
"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.
"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."
"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.
Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.
But Michael wasn't known for his patience.
"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"
Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.
"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious.
"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."
"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.
"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay."
"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.
"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."
Michael blinked. "The box."
"Yeah."
"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly
"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny."
Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.
"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."
Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."
"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.
"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks."
"Show me."
Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.
"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away.
"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.
"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.
"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."
Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling.
"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."
"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."
He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.
"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."
Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would.
"What kind of something?"
"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.
"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?"
Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.
"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.
Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time?
"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.
"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."
"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"
"Always."
Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.
The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting.
“Michael?”
Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.
“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”
Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.
“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.
“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”
“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”
“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.
“I promise.”
They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.
“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”
“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”
“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”
Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.
Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.
"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?"
"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."
"What happened?"
"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."
Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.
"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?"
"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."
"What was it?" Alex asked.
Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.
"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.
"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever.
And he wanted to see more.
" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.
And he was somewhere else.
He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was.
"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."
"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough.
"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.
He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.
Him and Alex. The three of them.
When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.
“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one…
“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.
“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”
Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”
“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”
Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”
Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped.
“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”
Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.
“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”
Alex stared at him for a long moment.
“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”
“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”
“ Michael.”
“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”
He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.
“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.
“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.
“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.
“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”
Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”
“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”
“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”
“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”
Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.
Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.
“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”
“I promise.”
“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”
I know you.
“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”
Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.
“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”
It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew. It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.
If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.
He was going to make this work.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
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Hi can I request a dadlevi x momreader where they have a teenage daughter and the 104th cadet boys gave a crush on her and Levi gets really protective and the reader has to reassure him that she's not a baby anymore pleaseeee thank you😁
welp, i’m usually slow as a sloth with requests but if you don’t mind it being a short drabble i can sure as hell crack up sth soo sorry if it’s a bit too short but here goes, hope you like it anonie (also i kind of said trabble and it turned out 1500 words, sorry)
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“This is getting out of hand, Levi.” Your words were low around the table at the mess hall as your raven-haired husband fixed the cadets across from you with a murderous glare. You put a hand to his tense shoulder and could distinctly hear Mike and Hanji snort from next to you at Levi’s click of the tongue - still, his abuse didn’t stop.
Your daughter glanced at her father once, smiling happily from her place in between the cheerful males of the 104th squad and proceeding to be rather oblivious when it came to his foul mood. Admittedly, he hadn’t spoken about it to anybody but, as the mother of his rather grown-up child and the woman who’d spent well over two decades with him already, you didn’t need a verbal explanation to gather why he was being so pissy.
Since your daughter had been enlisted in the Corps (something her and Levi and you and her had had two separate rather long arguments about), she was in the spotlight, or, well, something of the sort. She was kind enough to communicate with her peers and funny enough to make them laugh, and the looks she’d mostly inherited from you did its part when it came to charming the rookies you’d later checked were named Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun, Connie Springer, Armin Arlert and partly, the very special Eren Jaeger.
They were her comrades and she regarded them as such - close people she would protect and work with in the future, and they regarded her the same with just a little bit of an ulterior motive. Naturally, parents were good at noticing those stuff and the usually emotion-incompetent Levi Ackerman was no exception when it came to Jean’s heart eyes mirroring his own aimed at you in the past.
As a good father who couldn’t, however, reveal his identity straight-up, he made sure to mentor the kids as harshly as he could, strict in his teachings and rather sadistic out of them. The poor boys had handled stable and kitchen duty more than any previous rookies enlisted and two or three of them had gotten lucky enough to clean up a whole storage of 3DM gear and run laps till they fainted. You were nurturing when it came to those undeserved mishaps and ended up playing the good cop who gave the poor boys water and let them sleep for the rest of the day.
Levi didn’t know it but the harder his punishments got, the more reason his daughter had to pity the boys and question her father’s behaviour. We arrive at a moment where he could no longer think of a suitable punishment to pull through with enough reason and, of course, your endless nagging on the topic. Your daughter didn’t need to know about this secret little bickering, as the cadets didn’t know she was your child and nobody but the superiors were aware of your relationship with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.
“I’m just monitoring.” The raven’s excuse was laughable as you were leaving the mess hall and he literally stalked his daughter and her tall charmers to the training fields, where you decided to pull him along into the building and have a little talk.
“This is ridiculous, do you realise what you’re doing?” Your question struck nothing in him as he made his way to the second floor of the building only so he could observe from above the training the 104th cadets would undertake with Hanji. His hawk eyes pierced the window and the boys surrounding his precious little baby, and in that moment you felt a little soft when it came to reprimanding him.
“I’m watching my fucking child.” He argued with a grumble and crossed arms, making you sigh as you leaned against the window and observed his features. You could guess only by the pissed off twitch of his brow your daughter had been paired to combat with some of the boys he so disliked.
“But she’s not in danger.” You objected with a snort to which he rolled his eyes. “Also our child.” The addition made his frown more sarcastic, then you pushed at his shoulder and glanced outside. The sun was shining and your husband was silent - and you had to be a good wife and mother at the same time. “Now, I need you to hear me out. Our daughter is fifteen years old and she’s part of the worst group possible. Maybe we can concern ourselves more with her safety and happiness, not so much with the boys she has as friends.”
“It’s unacceptable for them to slack off this much, not to mention you’re defending her. You pointed it out, she’s just fifteen.” The emphasis was a cold slap in your face, then you were eyeing him pointedly.
“Levi,” his grey hues left the window for a second to lock with your gaze, “I was fifteen when I met you.” Your words made him suck in a breath but his obstinance had no limits when it came to his overprotective nature.
“All the more fucking reason for me to protect her.”
“No, all the more reason for us to watch from afar and let her live her life. She’s a teenager once and the fact she’s bonding with her comrades isn’t going to kill her.” The brow he quirked at you made you glare, then you beat him to speaking. “She’s not a baby anymore, we take care of her, yes, but we have to give her some freedom too. Otherwise, we’ll get a rebellious period and I can’t handle managing both your explosive asses once that happens.” His spiteful snort was provocative but his figure turned away from the window to glare at you - good, so he was buckling.
“My ass is explosive only when I drink too much coffee.” His childish retort made you chuckle - you took it as him admitting defeat by not addressing the issue any further.
“And when Hanji cooks.” Your joke called forth an eye-roll from him, then his lips pursed and you smiled at his pale countenance. “It’s fine being worried, she’s been sheltered her whole life and suddenly you’re forced to watch her form connections with people who’re not us. I would say, however,” your smile slowly curled into a smirk as you glanced at the training fields through the window, “she can beat up the boys if they annoy her without your help.”
His brows furrowed and his attention followed your gaze, and you watched your fifteen-year-old daughter flip the blond Reiner Braun over her shoulder with a move Levi had taught her when she was ten. He fell to the ground and, from experience, you knew how much it hurt when all the air was pushed out of your lungs in that moment. Next thing he knew, a foot had stepped on his dominant hand’s wrist and a small hand held a wooden knife to his throat.
In your peripheral vision, you saw the satisfied flicker in Levi’s orbs and decided he wouldn’t be arguing with you on the topic of this anymore. Also, he might as well spare the boys their duties. If his daughter could handle the biggest one this easily, she could land a kick to the testicles effortlessly if any of them proved problematic. You shook your head at the sight and how proud Levi seemed due to it, then you realised he was back to watching you.
“On the topic of us meeting when you were still a brat, are you insinuating anything?” You began waving your hands around in a “no” when he glared at the field, then at you. You’d just denied when he tactfully cut in with: “Far as I remember, you jumped me and you had eighteen.” You let out an awkward laugh and his glare got all the more deadly.
“Haha, about that. I actually lied so you’d let me.” The slow admittance slipped past your dry lips and you watched your husband doubt everything you’d told him in your shared life. You could see him recall everything and make sure he was in the right - except you’d been stupid as a teenager and twice as scheming.
“But your birthday had passed.” He argued coldly, unsuspecting of the truth and ever so sweet because he put so much trust in you.
“And about that, my birthday’s kind of a month after the date I told you.” You watched his eyes widen and began ranting, as per tradition when he came close to blowing a fuse and you wanted to avoid being collateral damage. “I know what you’re thinking, I’m so lucky that my wife is even younger than I thought she was, she’s so attractive and youthful---”
“I’m thinking how I’m about to beat your ass in our next combat session for lying to me for twenty fucking years, that’s what I’m thinking.”
#asks#drabbles#drabbles for anonies#levi x reader#levi ackerman fanfiction#reader insert#fluff with a daughter#with a spin at the end#because parents are more iconic than their kids sometimes
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THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 1
Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader
Rated E (Explicit)
You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation's neighbors, and the baron himself wants a tour after closing hours.
Disclaimer: Written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up some time after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.
Castle Zemo is one of the only historical Sokovian sites still standing and it now belongs to Czechia. After each of its Balkan neighbors had a slice, the once collapsing state had become more united than it had been in decades. And it had its people to thank for it. The Sokovian diaspora in the Czech Republic tried their best to preserve their eroding history by nourishing their new sovereign state’s interest in it. Among the people attempting to preserve Sokovian culture is the youngest conservator to ever walk the castle grounds: you.
While your age may have led many to assume that what you lacked in experience you made up for it in spirit. However, after asking the security staff to look through last night’s recordings to confirm your ghost sighting, they all seemed to agree that there is such a thing as ‘too much spirit’.
You know what you saw and it was Heinrich Zemo. He seemed to be standing still, almost as if he were posing for a painting. It just so happened that before him, handing illustrious and heavy off the wall was the portrait of the first baron, a golden crown adorning his royal purple hood. While the twelfth baron had died alongside the fourteenth while fleeing Novi Grad, there was nothing to chain his soul to that place anymore. In a universe filled with aliens, androids, and sorcerers, the world you live in might as well be haunted by restless spirits.
Haimo, the security guard and the only person besides yourself on the premises that night, had agreed to stay by your side for a second night. You even made him lend you a walkie-talkie and keep his on. They’ll be two witnesses tonight.
“I’m headed towards the west wing. Keep your eyes on the camera. Over.”
“Got it,” he said through the static. “Over.”
You were careful to walk on the carpet and skip any flimsy floorboard out of fear of spooking the spirit. A living person spooking a dead one? That was a concept you wouldn’t have considered before your first encounter with the twelfth baron had ended so briefly. You had run in the opposite direction when you saw the specter at the end of the hall and the sound of your heels hitting the wall made him disappear into the dark. Tonight, you’d be just as quiet as he was and stay hidden in the shadows.
As you neared the end of the hall, you spoke to him once more. “Haimo, what’s the time? Over”
“Ten to three, boss. Over.”
“I’ll turn it off, but you can’t take your eyes off the screen okay? Pay attention to the painting. Over.”
“Got it. Over.”
Behind the velvet ropes, between two tall windows, and out of the moon’s way, you stood as perfectly still as the painting. In the silver moonlight, the golden shine of the baron and his baroness’s jewels was as blinding as the real things. Just beyond the painting was the royal vault where the royal family jewels lay when they were not out on display. Tonight, you prayed it was Helmut I Zemo’s spirit that stalked the halls and not a burglar searching for the baron’s treasures.
You waited for ten more minutes, but it felt like ten hours. You had been on your feet all day, putting every golden bracelet and precious stone away in vaults and setting up checking every camera, and then double-checking the cameras in the west wing. After ten hours, you hear the floor creak.
Then, another ten hours later, the floor creaks again. However this was, alive or dead, they didn’t know the castle like you did. It couldn’t have been the first baron. Still, you held your breath as the specter you blinked and missed the other night was lit up by the moon tonight. With his face obscured by a royal purple hood and his stride as assured as a leader’s, you swore it had to be him. He stepped on almost every flimsy floorboard, so it couldn’t have been him. Still, you held your breath as he passed your hiding place and skipped the velvet ropes.
He stood there, as either man or spirit, almost as breathless and statuesque as you. And he folded his arms and raised his head, just as the painting did. The only thing missing was the crown atop his head. And his baroness. You tried not to blink, but when you inevitably did, he moved to remove his hood. No, not a hood. His mask. Dark hair and light skin shone in the moonlight. He looked opaque from where you were standing, not translucent at all. That didn’t make him look any less like the man in the painting himself, so you sucked in a breath.
When he moved again, it was to face the shadowy place where you stashed yourself away. He had heard you. Even as you covered your mouth and remained motionless, you had no hope of staying hidden any longer. He moved. Again. He was closing in on you. Oh, he looked so much like Helmut I that you were ready to kneel and ask for a pardon. Or, rather, ready to collapse due to the lack of air in your lungs. Instead of doing the former or the latter, you chose a third option: running to the other end of the corridor. Again.
You were within arm's reach when your heels hit the floor. As you weren't a sprinter or a runner and have been on your feet all day and the following night, you collapsed on the carpet. But, before the baron could catch up, you turned on the walkie-talkie: “Haimo, help me!”
“What? Boss, where are you? Are you still in the west wing? Over”
“Can’t you see me on camera? Can’t you see him?” You screamed, uncaring of human or spirit ears that might hear.
“I can’t see anybody, boss. There’s no movement in the west wing. Over.”
A hand came out of nowhere, covered in the same royal color, and yanked the walkie-talkie away from your fallen form. And what felt like the same slick material was wrapped around the back of your neck. “Tell your friend you’re safe and sound and not in the west wing.” The fabric that covered the fingers holding your head down felt frigid against your already chilled spine. Whatever he was, he wasn’t visible to anyone else but yourself. You had no choice but to comply and cleared your voice before shakily responding to reassure him of this: “Y-yes, milord.”
That official address caught your capturer off guard and you could’ve sworn he seemed to listen up on your neck. “Good.” Nevertheless, he pressed the button and bought the device closer.
“I was just fucking with you. I’m in the bathrooms. In the east wing. Over.”
“Not funny, boss.”
“You were right though,” you spoke, and let a shiver run through you as his fist tightened in the tassels of your hair. “There is no ghost. Over.”
“Have a good one, boss. Over.”
“You did good,” he spoke again, a whisper as chilling and powerful as the wind. “I would hate for us to be interrupted, wouldn’t you? Get up.”
Being allowed to walk on your legs again didn’t mean much when you were being guided by an iron grip. With his hand tangled up in your hair, head facing the floor, he walked you past the velvet ropes and right to the painting he still seemed to have walked out of.
“Blue blood doesn't make one immortal,” He started speaking, snatching you up and straightening your back so that you were facing the royal couple. Then, sliding a gloves hand up your side as the other one slid down your and onto your shoulder, he breathed into your ear from behind. “But it does give one the power to persevere beyond death. My ancestors all lived and died with their wealth, but my parents chose to secure their money in something a little more secure than a vault.” When you gasped, he grabbed onto your other shoulder, smoothing your sleeves. “Yes, I know you’ve been keeping the treasure tucked away, but the Czech state owns this land now. I thank my father every day for our German bank accounts, otherwise I’d be scrambling to survive.” His chest was hot against your back and even the hands holding onto your arms were warm, the heat of them seeping through the gloves. You never heard of a ghost whose touch feels like fire, but his presents, his form pressed against your own, made your spine shiver all the same. “I know it’s late, but I would like a tour. What do you say, my dear? Shall we start with the vault?”
“Yes, s-sir,” you swallowed a scream that threatened to rip out of your throat. The fear of his ripping it out himself was great, but what was greater was the chill of the castle overtaking you once he stepped away from you to give you enough space. Your fingers were trembling as they touched the frame, and it took you a second too long to find the notch in it. Once you did and everything clicked into place, you heard him chuckle behind you.
“Do you need help with that my dear?”
“Thank you, sir,” you struggled not to shake as his hand was placed atop of yours and you both pulled on the frame unlocking the painting from the wall like a door.
“What happened to ‘milord’?” He let go of you and you let go yourself, stepping toward the hidden vault while under his heated gaze. You could feel it at the back of your neck, the memory of his manhandling still lingering there. “I think I prefer it to ‘sir’.”
Introducing the combination, information only you were privy to, was proving to be more difficult under his scrutiny. It was as if the baron himself was watching your every move and you had better make your next one a good one. “Whatever you wish, milord.”
“I wish to see my family’s treasure,” he chuckled, but you couldn’t figure out why he was so amused. “Do you need help with this as well?”
“I got it,” you answered, agitated by his pressuring presence. “I mean,” you cleared your throat as you opened the vault door. “There’s no need to, milord.” Then, turning to him, you offered a small and curtsy on shaking legs.
“Very good, my dear. Now,” he caught you before you collapsed and looped your arm around his own. “What can you tell me about these?”
You looked towards the treasure inside, his dark smirk a bigger strain on your eyes than the shimmering gold in the silver moonlight.
“They were f-forged for the first baron Zemo, Helmut The First. The crown and the chain belonged to him, as you can see in the painting,” You skipped a beat as he squeezed you into the small space with no means to escape. You were so close, your breath fogged up the gold and dimmed the shine of the crown. “H-he often wore it atop his cawl.”
“The purple hood, you mean?” He asked and arrested you with the sight of his masked face. To keep you from creeping away, he let your arm escape the loop but captured your middle in another one. His chest, hot and hard, was against your back once more. “I know it’s not exactly the lord’s garb, but I believe I’ll look just as good in designer clothes. Would you mind if I…?”
“Whatever you wish, milord,” you whispered, all the wind having been knocked out of you as the warmth of his breath, filtered to the fabric of his mask, hit the back of your neck.
“I’m going to need your help this time around,” He removed the crown from the bust bringing it down so that you could easily grab it from his hands. “There is no mirror here, you see.”
“Of course,” you tried not to let it slip through your trembling fingers as he turned to face you fully.
“Of course what?”
“Of course, milord,” you corrected yourself and crowned him, the golden band fitting over the royal purple mask like his royal purple gloves.
“Heavy is the head that wears it, but the crown might be heavier,” he craned his neck right, then left, and, while you couldn’t see it, a smirk shimmered in his deep dark eyes.
You mirrored his mirth with a smile of your own, albeit weak. “It fits you, milord.”
“Father never let me wear it. I was but a boy back then,” he touched the sides of it where the band and his temple met. “It was summer the last time I saw it. We’d always come to the castle in August. The stone walls keeps the place cool in the summer months.”
“You had to grow into it.”
“Do you believe I’ve grown into it, my dear?” His hands were on your shoulders, stroking your skin through the shirt.
“Yes, milord.”
“Show me,” he squeezed down, fingers forceful now. “Kneel.”
He needn’t push you down, your knees already buckled at his command. Yet you were still shoved to the floor.
“Would you serve me?” He demanded, glowering down at you like the grand painting always would, with a dark demeanor and a golden crown atop a royal purple cawl.
“Yes, milord,” you breathed out the little air still in your lungs. And, determined to show your devotion to him, to the barony and all of Sokovian history, you fondled the front of his hands with two sweaty, unsure hands. His hands slid up your shoulder and smoothened back your hair, so you were more confident when you unclothed him.
“Is this how you plan to serve me?”
“Whatever you wish.” The harnessed of his crotch and the way he pushed it into your palms told you everything you needed to know. He was eager, but, as you shifted your trembling thigh, you realized that it was the both of you. “Lord Zemo.”
“I wish I were fucking that pretty little peasant mouth,” he heaved, heat coming off of his crotch as you uncovered it, pulling down his pants. Brushing back all the hair out of your eyes, he twisted it into a bun at the top of your head.
When you opened your mouth and rolled down your tongue like a red carpet, you finally freed his cock. As it landed on the saliva-slick surface, he sighed: "I wish you'd take my cock deep in your throat, as deep as it can go." Then, taking himself in his hand by the hilt, he slid inside. "And watch your teeth."
Your answer to this was to lock your lips around the head. It was hot, salty, and sweet, like a kiss stolen in a wet dream. Once you began suckling it, his hips started snapping. You've never heard of a ghost grunting before, but you've listened to men lose their sanity between a woman's lips. He was holding himself back, halting his hips, yet his words flowed freely
"Have you done this before, my dear? Have you ever served a man like this?" The man mirage called you closer, the hand at the bun bunched up atop your head forcing you forward. "Have you ever served a baron before?"
He already knew the answer, but you bobbed your head and blabbered a response anyway. No, you have not. You've served the barony for your entire custodian career, but this was as close that you've ever gotten to actual royalty. And it just so happened to be the baron himself, wearing gold and wrapped in the royal colors. Your knees hurt and so did your jaw, but you were his to do as he pleased.
"No, I didn't think so," he grunted, his voice gravely as he instructed you. "Breathe through your nose. I'm going to fuck your pretty little peasant face."
Holding onto his hips for support, you surrendered to him your entire skull. You couldn't even moan anymore, couldn't even move on your own. All you could do was gag each time his spongy, sweet, and salty cockhead hit the tender spot at the back of your throat. Through the tears, you saw him watching you through the eyes sockets, eyes searing through your soul. He watched himself wrecking you, fucking your face, and watched you being wrecked.
"Good girl," he growled, no longer a man or a ghost, but rather a lion. "That's a good girl." He was in a frenzy, fucking you fast and furiously. All you could do is take what was given to you and gargle. There was spit, there were tears, but the baron drove his dick into you like you were the most desirable damsel he's ever seen. "You serve me so well. Such a good girl. Such a good-"
All of a sudden, he stopped short of spilling down the throat he tore open. You felt the trepidation in the way it twitched, but it was ripped away from you as he retreated his cock from your mouth.
"Fuck."
As you coughed and blinked the tears away, you saw it in his hands, drowning in your drool, swollen and red. He squeezed down on it and seemed determined to contain it and all the come that was supposed to be swallowing.
"Get up," he heaved, his chest growing and shrinking under the security of his shirt. He was a man after all. "I want to you, but I don't want to fuck a peasant pussy," he held out his hand, the glove dirty with your drool and his precum. After you took it and stood on lame legs as he held onto you tight, he directed you to the diadem still in the vault. "I want to make love to a baroness."
Your mind was still in a haze when he sat the diadem atop your head. You couldn't make out your heavy breathing over the sound of his own. Still, you looked up, his crown as steady as his stare, and saw what must've been your reflection in the golden surface.
"There she is," he tilted your chin, thumb stroking the skin. "My beautiful baroness." As one handheld onto your face, the other snuck under your skirt and pushed your panties aside. You must've been so hot, so moist, you seeped through his gloves. Of course, you invited them in, those intrusive fingers, moaning when they moved to part your labia. "What is my lady's wish?"
"Make love to me," you whined, licking your lips at the thought of his tasty thick cock all up in your cunt. "My lord."
"Whatever you wish," he dropped your chin and lifted your leg. Then, as you tried to balance yourself on the other, he lifted it, hooking both of them around his hips.
You scrambled to secure your arms around his shoulders as he slammed you against the vault door. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the need burning in your core. You informed him of this pain through your panting, a pathetic performance, and only stopped when you felt the relief of him ramming it in. Hitching you up with his hands under your thighs, he caught his head on your pussy lips and then dropped you onto his dick.
"Oh, there she is," he mouthed at the side of your sweat-slick neck through his mask. "There's my pretty little pussy," his voice was strained as he slammed inside you over and over and over again. "I want to slip it on like a sleeve, slip it on whenever I'm homesick and live in it for a week."
"My Lord!"
"I'll take you far away from this dying place! Have you ever seen Paris? Madrid? Berlin? That's where we'll live! We'll travel like bandits and live like kings!"
You were delirious and he wasn't doing any better, drilling into the depths of you with a desperation only a living, breathing man could understand. The sound of your skins slapping against each other, the myriad of moans, they all echoed through the corridors of Castle Zemo and you hoped this haunting could go on for all eternity.
"M-my Lord, I'm going to-"
"Yes, come with me, milady! Come with me, my baroness!"
Following his orders was as natural to you as it was to the moon to rise every night. Squeezing your thighs tight and raising your face towards the stone skies, you came around Baron Zemo's cock and collapsed in his arms.
When he unwinded your legs from him like a belt, you were finally awake. The chill of the vault door made your spine shiver and there was a hot pool of come in your panties that threatened to spill down your thighs.
"Thank you for indulging in my fantasies, my dear." The chest your head was rearing against rumbled. "I hope I fulfilled all of yours."
"Baron Helmut III Zemo," you slurred out, too exhausted to enunciate each syllable. "You are supposed to be serving time in Germany-"
"Boss, where are you?" Haimo spoke through the static.
"That's your cue," the baron handed the device back to you. "Tell him you are on your way back and definitely not in the hands of a dashing criminal mastermind."
You searched his dark eyes behind the purple sockets. "Traveling like bandits? Living like kings?"
"Men say the damndest things while in the trawls of passion." He stroked your soaked cheek and spoke softly. "I'll be back tomorrow night to spin you another tale."
Blinking up at him, barely awake or alive, you answered Haimo. "I'm heading back. Over."
"Very good, my Lady. Very good."
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June 17: Chengxian 💜🖤💕
childhood friends to lovers/QPPs, ace Jiang Cheng, bi & aro Wei Wuxian, modern AU
(A/N: If you're wondering about a certain other someone, he will have a wonderful, full life of his own in Suzhou in this AU but is not in this story. 💙 There are some brief mentions of offscreen ace-antagonism, not by anyone we know.)
Read on ao3
Jiang Cheng had been Wei Ying's best friend in the whole world for his entire life.
Okay. Well, not quite his entire life, but certainly since Wei Ying’s parents moved to California when he was little little, which was about as far back as Wei Ying could remember anyway. Wei Ying’s baba and Jiang Cheng’s baba had grown up in Wuhan together and been best friends when they were kids, so naturally, when Wei Ying’s family moved into the same neighborhood as the Jiangs, it made perfect sense for Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng to become best friends too.
It was Jiang Cheng who had taught Wei Ying that he didn't have to be afraid of dogs, by introducing him to Princess, Jasmine, and Lil' Love. Lil' Love lived up to her name, coming and quietly sitting in all her fluffy glory on Wei Ying’s lap every time he went over to play.
It was also Jiang Cheng who Wei Ying got drunk with for the first time. They snuck booze from the cabinet where Wei Ying’s parents kept it and laughed at the faces each other made with every shot until they stopped tasting the harsh burn, and then laughing more just because.
(Wei Ying’s mom had not laughed, not at the time, when the two teens had been sick as anything the next morning, but instead made them a gloriously greasy late breakfast and gave them lots of advice about proper hydration.
Then she told Jiang Cheng’s mom and let her scold them.)
It was Jiang Cheng who came out first, their first semester in college, when he told Wei Ying he didn't think he wanted to have sex with anyone, ever, and asked if Wei Ying thought that meant no one would ever want to date him. Wei Ying hugged him tight and told him he didn't know about everyone out there, but he knew Jiang Cheng was the best guy in the world and would be an awesome boyfriend, and he'd fight anyone who said differently.
Jiang Cheng found a group on campus for third culture LBGT kids, and Wei Ying went with him, as a supportive ally.
Which was how Wei Ying figured out that he was not just a supportive ally.
In listening to the others talk about orientation and identity and attraction and cultural expectations, Wei Ying realized that what he'd always assumed was normal—finding all kinds of people physically attractive, regardless of their gender—was actually his bisexuality. So that was kind of cool.
"So yeah, now we can be queer together!" Wei Ying said, when he excitedly shared his newfound realization with Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng snorted. "Yeah, 'all' and 'nothing,'" he joked.
It was Jiang Cheng who'd helped him practice what to say to his parents when he wanted to change his major at the end of sophomore year, and Jiang Cheng who reminded him to eat and sleep and "take a fucking break, Wei Ying," those next couple semesters when he took way too many hours so he wouldn't have to rack up a whole extra year's worth of student loans to finish his new degree plan.
It was Jiang Cheng who graduated first, on a gorgeous blue-skyed sunny day in May, and Jiang Cheng who suggested Wei Ying keep living with him at his new apartment, so he wouldn't have to try to find a one-semester lease until he finished in December.
(They renewed the lease together every time.)
Jiang Cheng ribbed him playfully each time Wei Ying met someone new, but he was always there each times things fizzled out after a few months for reasons that never quite made sense to Wei Ying.
Jiang Cheng occasionally dated too, and Wei Ying was glad he never did have to fight anybody—though he did drive Jiang Cheng to the emergency room the time he came home with split knuckles from punching a guy who, "seemed to think I didn't know my own mind about certain things."
But dating sucked for everybody, right? It wasn't like Wei Ying or Jiang Cheng were in any hurry to settle down and do the whole spouse and kids thing or whatever. Wei Ying tried to imagine it and just... couldn't, though the image of Jiang Cheng with a baby was admittedly pretty cute.
~
It was not Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Yanli, a few months after she proposed to her girlfriend and they started planning their wedding, who Wei Ying finally asked, "Yanli-jie, how does a person decide someone else is their person?"
Jiang Yanli looked across the room to where Jiang Cheng was showing her soon-to-be-wife how to put side spin on a billiards ball and smiled. "I think you just know," she said. "You meet someone and you get to know them, spend time together, then one day you realize you love them and want to build the rest of your life with them."
Wei Ying wrinkled his nose. "I dunno if it works that way for me. Just some random person? I've never met anyone I can imagine wanting to live with all the time. Well, besides—huh..." he cut off suddenly and darted a look over at Jiang Yanli, who just calmly sipped her drink.
"Have you ever told him that?" she asked, after a moment where Wei Ying reassessed his entire life and dating history. "I think he might appreciate hearing it."
"I... huh. Yanli-jie, you're kinda blowing my mind here," he complained.
"I gathered," she said wryly, before fixing him with a smile that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Of course, I trust," she told him, "that I do not need to explain to you of all people how very dearly I hold my didi's happiness and well-being."
He swallowed and raised three fingers in the salute he'd used ever since the summer that—hah—he and Jiang Cheng had decided as kids that they would make their own oath of brotherhood like the heroes of their favorite show. "I, Wei Ying, swear to you that I would kick my own ass before I did anything to hurt him."
Jiang Yanli leaned over to knock her shoulder against his and nodded. "That's what I thought."
~
Turned out, dating Jiang Cheng didn't suck at all.
It felt easy in a way Wei Ying’s past dates never had, less like trying to keep up with a game whose rules everybody knew except him, more like... well, like spending time with his best friend in the whole world, but on purpose. There was also a tension in the back of Wei Ying’s mind that seemed to have lifted, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that had gone.
It was Jiang Cheng who helped him figure it out.
"I think it's that now I'm able to count on this. On us," he said, when Wei Ying brought it up. "Before, whenever you went out with someone new, I wondered if this would be the time you'd find someone to fall in love with and leave me behind."
"Aww, Chengcheng! I would never!"
Jiang Cheng huffed and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. "Well, I know that now," he said, a pleased little smile breaking through his attempts at a scowl.
"As long as you're sure—" Wei Ying began, still getting used to thinking about himself with the word "aromantic." Still a so very sure that Jiang Cheng deserved to be fallen in love with.
"Hey!" Jiang Cheng cut him off. "None of that. I know you. And I know you don't see it this way, but I personally think it's pretty damn romantic that you choose to love me, on purpose."
"I simply have exquisite taste in life partners," Wei Ying sniffed, embarassed the way he always got when Jiang Cheng declared something he'd done "romantic."
"You do," Jiang Cheng agreed. "Someone told me a long time ago I was the best guy in the world and would make an awesome boyfriend, and that he would fight anyone who said differently."
Wei Ying laughed. "That's you and your sister I've promised to kick my own ass if I ever break your heart, then. Guess I'll just have to keep you forever."
"Damn right, you will," Jiang Cheng agreed, grinning smug and happy and breathtakingly beautiful. Wei Ying leaned across the couch to give him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss—the kind Jiang Cheng had shyly admitted he actually did like, a lot—and smiled too, at how lucky he'd gotten to be with his best friend in the whole world for his entire life.
🖤💜
Today's (extremely long!) thread was inspired by this WONDERFUL art of ace Jiang Cheng and bi & aro Wei Ying! Go give Midori some love on Twitter!
I spent a nonzero amount of time googling to double check when various terms and flags came into vogue, so if you're wondering, WWX & JC were in college in the early 2000s, before the ace and aro flags were designed. By the time they get themselves figured out, they can get their cute wristbands.
...which, yes, means these dingdongs spent about a solid decade living together before realizing that was what they wanted to do forever. 😉
This also means Jiang Yanli and her unnamed wife here are getting married between when California started recognizing same-sex marriages in 2008 and the Obergefell v. Hodges ruling in 2015! THIS SHIT'S RECENT!!!
Happy Pride, thank you for reading, check out more LGBTQIA+ sweetness on my #PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!
#PrideMonthSnippets#chengxian#westie writes#mdzs#the untamed#asexual pride#aromantic pride#asexual jiang cheng#bisexual wei wuxian#aromantic wei wuxian#queerplatonic relationship#queer relationships#love has a lot of shapes
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Joke of a Batman
Spencer Reid x Male!Reader
Request: @meowiemari Okie dokie!!! So Spencer x male reader where the reader is the driver for the robbers. They arrested him after finding him in a gas station getting snacks. While driving in his car with Morgan, Reid, and Hotch, the reader is in the passenger seat telling them the location because he was just there for the money. Hotch and Morgan went while Spencer stays to keep an eye on him. Reader’s playlist in his car plays old Justin Bieber songs and it’s gonna be me by NSYNC. Spencer sees his embarrassment and awkwardly sings a bit so he doesn’t feel shame. Later in absolute a few minuets the two started singing and as soon as Morgan comes back with Hotch, they both quickly turn off the playlist and exchange numbers. :)
Warnings: Swearing, implied SMUT (super brief)
A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this, and hope I you enjoy. This was my first time writing the reader as male-so please tell me if I can improve! Tried to keep reader description as vague as possible. Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart for encouraging me to get writing :)
“That’ll be $11.75, please.” The bored gas station attendant droned, staring at you expectantly. You began to pull out a few bills from your wallet, ready to get home and eat your pint of ice cream in peace, but before you could count out what you needed, a voice behind you cut in.
“He’s no longer going to be making a purchase today, actually,” Spinning around in alarm, you find yourself face to face with two imposing men, one with a deep frown and overall authoritative air with his crisp suit, the other a handsome but tall and physically intimidating specimen.
With a gulp, you stuff the cash in your wallet. Who were these guys?
“Y/F/N?”
You nod as heat creeps up your neck, burning your face. Fucking Peter Robbins, you always knew, was going to be the death of you. And now it looked like your latest foray into his questionable life was going to land you in jail. These had to be cops.
You knew you should have ignored his call. You’d been telling yourself for years not to help him, he was just going to get himself in trouble again and call again, and you got nothing out of it. He used you because he knew you liked him. The two of you had been friends for years, and it didn’t take him long to realize the ways he could manipulate you because of how you felt.
It took you a lot longer to catch on to what he was doing.
But fuck, you still came running when he called, didn’t you? Like you were some joke of a Batman and he was shining his light into the sky calling for you. If only.
“That’s, yeah, that’s me.” You replied, slowly shoving your wallet into your front pocket before holding your hands in front of you in surrender. Whatever happened, you decide at this moment that you never want to see Peter again. Because giving that man a ride in hopes he’d one day say he was interested was not worth this.
“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re placing you under arrest,” The frowning man held out his badge, showing you he was one Agent Hotchner from the fucking FBI. You tuned him out, your ears suddenly ringing, alarm shooting through you. Getting arrested was one thing, but the FBI? What in the living hell had Peter gotten into? Got you into?
He called you for a ride. It was just supposed to be a ride.
You were surprised when they didn’t cuff you, but you weren’t stupid enough to question them. They led you outside, where the gas station was quiet, only their large black SUV and your Honda Civic parked out front. You kept your eyes down, a sting threatening the corners but you were not going to cry. You needed to take this one step at a time, and not overreact. You surely didn’t fuck up that badly, did you? They’d said ‘suspicion of aiding a crime’, only suspicion.
“Listen, kid,” The bald Agent whose name you learned was Morgan turned and faced you, his expression serious. You bristled slightly at him calling you ‘kid’, but based on the crows' feet around his eyes, maybe he was older than he let on. “We know that you were just the driver today, and that you’d probably have no clue what’s going on right now.”
You raised your eyes to meet his, “Peter Robbins has ensured I fuck up my life at least once a year for nearly a decade. This is just...a new level for me.” You shrug, trying not to think of what your family was going to say when they found out. Would you lose your job?
“We’ve been watching Peter and his associates for a while now,” Agent Hotchner replied, and your brows raised in surprise. “Yes, he’s escalated from petty crimes that upset the local sheriff to armed robbery. Unfortunately, one of his partners happens to enjoy killing. Which is why we were called in.” He stops speaking abruptly when another Agent, you assume from the gun on his belt, steps around the SUV and up to your group.
For a moment, you’re caught off guard. This Agent is stunningly handsome, much younger than the other two. His eyes, which met yours for only a moment before flitting away, were a soft honey brown that sucked you right in. He had a bit of a shadow along his jaw, his wavy brown hair unkempt in the best kind of way, as though he’d just rolled out of bed looking that perfect. And you could tell he didn’t even realize the power he had. Standing next to two burly, thick muscled Agents, you could understand why. But in your brief assessment of this new man, you could see the lean strength of him, the muscles of his lower arms, veins in his hands. He was tall, too, taller than either of the other men, which was saying something.
“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, and the new arrival-Reid-held up his phone.
“Garcia can’t pull anything from the Honda, it’s, her words, an ancient species.” He spoke quickly, almost as though the words couldn’t find their way off of his tongue quickly enough. You tried not to fixate on his mouth, because damn it, his lips were perfect.
Absentmindedly, you crossed your arms across your chest, feeling tense and tired. When Reid’s eyes followed the movement, you felt frozen under his gaze, watching with your breath held as it dragged slowly up to your face. His expression was unreadable, yet you still felt your cheeks grow warmer.
“Listen, (Y/N), we know you don’t have any real part in Peter’s crimes. We intercepted his calls and texts, we know he asked you to pick him up today, last minute.” Agent Hotchner said, his eyes burning into yours.
You looked away from the other men, shame flooding through you. “Peter always calls, and I always answer. But I really don’t know anything about what he does, I didn't know he was even with anyone else today. He asked me to pick him up right out front of the pharmacy, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, the wordless plea that they understand you had no clue what was going on. And if innocent people were dying, you would do anything you could to help them put a stop to it.
Reid tilted his head slightly as he watched you, “We’ve seen the messages, (Y/N), we know how he treats you, giving you a little, yet taking a lot,” The tears almost threaten now, so you glance away, looking at the ground as you nod, “And he doesn’t even tell you what he’s taking, the danger he’s putting you in. He’s going to go away for a long time, but you don’t have to.”
At this, your head snaps up and you look between the three men, expecting them to laugh and finally cuff you. But they all wear the same neutral expression, all watching you.
“Like I said, I don’t know much abou-“
Reid shook his head, politely interjecting, “We understand. But you know where you took him today, right?” At your nod, Reid stepped a little closer, peering down at you, “We need you to take us to him. And tell us any other addresses you can remember picking him up from or taking him to in the last year. Can you help us? You won’t be under arrest if you can give us what we need to stop Peter and the men he’s working with.”
You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you would help, regardless of whether you were still under arrest; you had no loyalty whatsoever to Peter. You only ever showed up for him because you hoped, each time, that it would be the time he would go beyond flirting. That the feelings were mutual. But if he was committing crimes-fuck, robbing people, working with a murderer, then you were done with him.
“I can tell you addresses, and I can show where he is now, I just,” You paused, closing your eyes briefly to pull in a breath, steadying yourself, “Please, don’t hurt him, if you don’t need to, I mean.”
Reid’s eyes, which you found the moment you opened yours, visibly softened at your words. He seemed a little surprised, you thought, though it was hard to tell. He was difficult to read, and you’d only just met him. He nodded reassuringly before looking to Agent Hotchner expectantly while you waited, your insides in knots.
“(Y/N), Spencer is going to go with you in your vehicle, and we’ll be following behind. Take us as close as you can without being obvious. Reid,” He turned to the handsome agent, “We’re going to check the car first, can you-“ He gestured wordlessly in your direction, which made you frown in confusion.
Reid nodded, and you watched as the two other agents moved to search your car, while he moved toward you. “I’m going to search you for weapons, okay?” He explained, holding his hands out as if waiting for your permission.
You stared, perhaps a beat too long, at his long-fingered hands. With a shy bob of your head, you looked to Reid, “Of course, I understand.” And the agent began to pat you down as you stood awkwardly.
It wasn’t as though the action was intimate or affectionate, but for whatever reason, you did feel his touch was hesitant. He was gentle, considerate...it surprised you. And then his hands slid up your back as he stood in front of you, and you became acutely aware of the thin cotton t-shirt your wore, instantly becoming self-conscious. You wondered what he thought of you, of your body.
Mind out of the gutter, you told yourself.
It was then, when Reid leaned back, his hands sliding from your back to your chest, that time seemed to stand still, just for a moment. They moved across your stomach briefly, and as they began to pull away, the search complete, you looked up. Reid was staring at you, his cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. You caught your breath, his gaze was so intense, but before you could even try to think of what to say, he was swiftly stepping back, breaking eye contact with a heavy swallow.
You were kind of relieved. That had been almost too intense, whatever that was. The relief lasted only moments until Agent Hotchner called out that your car was good to go, and you remembered you had a twenty-minute car ride alone with the Reid.
Fuck.
+
The first few minutes of the drive are bearable enough, Spencer takes the wheel as you give him directions to the subdivision where you had dropped Peter off. It’s when the silence starts to press in, and you don’t know what to say to fill it, that things swiftly change.
Sensing the tension, no doubt, Reid reaches out to the audio power button and hits your stereo on. With an internal groan, you suddenly wish you could just jump out of the moving vehicle when the song you’d been listening to picks back up.
'Cause I've had everything
But no one's listening
And that's just fucking lonely
I'm so lonely
Lonely
You had put on a playlist you considered your ‘sad songs’ compilation for whenever you were let down by Peter or any other man. You enjoyed wallowing in self-pity for just a little while after each encounter. But now, as Justin Bieber crooned sadly, you didn't feel sad, just humiliated. You were in your car with a fiercely hot FBI agent who had given you some kind of fucking bedroom eyes just minutes ago as he pats you down, and this song plays.
Your expression must have been obvious, as you saw Reid look at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, frowning somewhat. When the song ended, you didn’t get a chance to be relieved before ‘Somebody to Love” began playing. This time, you sighed aloud, sinking somewhat into your seat and wishing you could dissolve into a pile of goo like the Wicked Witch.
Until that is, you glanced up and saw Reid’s fingers tapping gently on the steering wheel to the beat. Surprised, you looked around to the agent and he was mouthing the words, singing along with the chorus. Stunned, you just watched him for a moment, quickly finding yourself enraptured by the way his plump lips moved around the words, how his tongue would wet them between lines, how his eyes-
Fuck, he was looking right at you. You smiled quickly but looked away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You really had much bigger, more important shit to be concerned with right now, yet here you were wondering what the hell this perfect man, this FBI agent that was far too handsome for his own good, was doing singing along with the silly song, and why the look he gave you had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
Not to mention, the guilt that accompanied those thoughts, brief as they were, of what the lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like on your body. Wrapped around your cock. Fuck.
He hadn’t said anything, but his fingers continued to tap along with the beat with ease. Eventually, when you directed him to the final turn, you chanced another glance at him. As if expecting your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, “I’m Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid.” You blinked. Doctor?
“Oh, uh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Dr-“
“You can call me Spencer,” He cut in, his expression somewhat amused.
You nodded, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Though I wish it were under different circumstances, perhaps where I wasn’t a criminal piece of shit.”
He pulled the car over, stopped at the community mailbox you had described as the perfect place to park. Once he’d turned the engine off, he turned to face you, those warm eyes giving you a gentle look. “You aren’t a criminal piece of shit, (Y/N),” Oh, you loved the way your name sounded coming from him. “I’d go as far as to say you’re a victim in all of this.”
You scoffed, waving a hand in protest, “No, I really should have known better than to help Peter.”
But Spencer shook his head, “As I said earlier, we saw the messages. He manipulates you, and he doesn’t ever tell you what he’s actually doing. He just gets you to give him rides, acts like it’s a way to hang out when really he’s using you as a cover because, in reality, you’re a law-abiding, hardworking, kind man. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, (Y/N).”
Letting out a breath, your mind went blank at Spencer’s words, failing you entirely. You believed every word he’d said, and you felt warm all over at the intense way he watched you, it was almost...protective.
Before your mind could reboot and you could trust yourself to open your mouth and not simply drool, a tap on the window drew your eyes beyond Spencer. Agent Hotchner stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed.
Spencer climbed out of your car, but you stayed put, glad for a moment to close your eyes and try to steady your beating heart. After this was over, you were climbing into your bathtub and staying there for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month.
“Prentiss and JJ are parked at the North end, they’re going to come with us. Can you wait here, with (Y/N), and call Garcia and have him give her the other locations?”
You heard Spencer agree and bid his fellow agents goodbye before climbing back into your car. He smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, your own shy and uncertain. “You heard what our task is?” He asked you, his head tilted again, watching you curiously.
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. But first, can you give me your phone, please?” He held his hand out expectantly. You handed it over, first pointing it towards your face to unlock it. His fingers brushed yours when he took the phone from you, and if you hadn’t been looking at him already, you wouldn’t have believed it was intentional. But it was because at the slight contact, your eyes had widened and Spencer...Spencer had smirked.
He clicked around on your phone for a moment, hit one final button and then passed it back to you, looking satisfied. When you took it back, his phone chimed in his pocket. Confused, you peered down at your screen to see he’d added his name to your contacts and sent himself a text from your phone. Well fuck.
He was watching you with an amused expression, “Once this case is over, (Y/N), I’d love it if you would allow me to take you to dinner.”
“I, wow,” You stammered, nervously running your hair through your hair. His eyes followed your movement, and you saw a glint behind the warmth, of desire. Hunger. You didn’t think twice. “I’d love to, Spencer.” He grinned at you.
And surprising even yourself, you reached out and squeezed his hand. And when he returned the pressure and ran his thumb softly across the back of your hand, all thoughts of Peter left your mind as *NSYNC played in the background and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.
Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!
✨Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @snitchthewitch
#reader insert#fanfic#fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x male reader#male reader#male reader insert#bau x reader#bau fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#fic request#reid x reader#feedback appreciated
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one of your normal days.
synopsis: Some precious moments between the Wammy’s House boys and their girlfriend.
# tags: scenarios; current relationships; soft romance; some fluff; PDA; pet names; sfw
includes: female reader ft. l lawliet, mihael keehl, nate river, mail jeevas & beyond birthday {death note}
— LAWLIET
It was three in the morning when you ran your hand across the bed and it turned out to be empty on left side. You breathed, a bit disappointed, rubbing your eyes with your fists, then lifted your body into a sitting position, opening your eyelids.
“Love?” You grunted, then yawned, and next, you get up from your soft mattress to leave the bedroom and went into the next, bigger room, which had a mass of monitors and binders. The bright light was unpleasantly painful to your tired eyes, but you made yourself to come closer to put your little hand on the detective’s shoulder. “Why are you still awake, love?”
“Oh, Y/N. Sorry if I woke you up.” He whispered, looking from the computer to your sleepy figure. “I still have some work to do and...”
“I know, but let’s go to bed. You’ve been sitting here since supper... which was at seven.”
“Yes, you’re right. But work...”
“You know, work won’t run away, but health will. Let’s go to sleep. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and help you with your documents. But now let’s rest, okay? Will you do it for me?” You asked softly, kissing his pale temple. Thanks to this his tense arms and back relaxed.
“Fine.” He said in a warm voice, allowing you to kiss him one more time.
This time, however, the kiss landed on his thin, sweet lips.
— MIHAEL
You smiled at your boyfriend, and your hand grabbed a glass of Scotch whiskey with one ice cube. You drank it all at once and kissed your man’s lips.
“Mihael, let’s go dance!” You got up from his lap and then you grabbed his hand. “One song, I promise!”
“Y/N, I don’t like to dance, you know about it...” He started calmly, which made you pout. After a while, however, a small, lovely smile appeared on your blushy face again.
“All right, I’ll dance with myself. I will be back soon! Order me a drink!” You waved at him and headed for the center of the dance floor. Immediately another, totally random girl took your warm hand and you laughed as you started having fun with her.
Mello watched your dancing body from time to time and smiled at your joyful face or the stars in your both pretty eyes. However, when your expression turned to a look of fear and the hand of a man other than Mihael’s appeared on your hip, the golden-haired boy got up from the couch and left his mafia friends behind him, heading towards you and the guy who definitely wanted to die.
“What do you think you are doing, bastard?” He asked, pushing the blue-eyed guy backwards and, at the same time, grabbed you around the waist. “Get the fuck away from my girlfriend. Only I can dance with her.”
You smiled under your breath as you turned towards his face and put your hands around his shoulders.
“So... Now you will dance with me? Pretty please?” You asked with an innocent smile and the twenty-year-old sighed loudly.
“Yeah. One stupid song.”
“I love you.”
“Yes... I- I lo-love you too...” he said ashamed, pulling you closer to his body.
— NATE
“Nate! Nate! Nate! Sweetheart!” You screamed as you ran into his room, so he twitched in surprise. He looked at you, raising his right eyebrow up and you smiled as you came much closer to him. “Take a second for me, pretty please. I have something interesting to show you!”
“What is it?”
“You will see! Come on, come on.” You grabbed his smooth hand and he obediently got up off the floor and followed you, still not understanding what was actually going on.
Only when both of you entered the living room and then onto the balcony Near understand what you wanted to show off; your small garden, which you have been nursing from several weeks.
At the sight of a tiny lemon tree, a patch of carrots and onions, and a few colorful flowers, he smiled gently, then looked at you and your satisfied face.
“What do you think?”
“It’s cute. You have a really good hand for plants, Y/N.” He said honestly, stroking your head. “When will they be ready to eat?”
“Hmmm... I think next week. Tomorrow I will also plant some tomatoes and cucumbers! I wish we had a bigger balcony...” You laughed softly, pressing your cheek against your boyfriend’s warm arm.
“Well, you know. If you want, we can move to the countryside. We can afford it. I will buy us a house with a huge garden for you. You will be able to continue planting.”
“Nate, you know you work a lot. There is no good and fast internet connection in the countryside.” You kissed his pale cheek, then knelt down, touching a small, green leave of the lemon tree. “But if we get old... I would like to live in a quiet place away from everything and everyone.”
The twenty-one-year-old smiled, thinking how you two will look in a few decades in a small, white house with a huge garden, many flower beds and maybe small dog or lazy cat...
It was a nice thought.
— MAIL
“Haha, you suck as hell, boy.” You laughed, still pressing the buttons on the black console as your vehicle passed Mail’s red car and took the first place in the ranking.
“Shut up. I’m just giving you an advantage, ‘cause I’m nice to you. That’s all.” He muttered, though you could clearly see the wrinkle on his nose and the nervous gaze hidden behind his white goggles with amber-tinted lenses.
“Just admit you don’t know how to play in ‘Mario Kart’. People are never the best at everything, you know. But I will support you even if you suck, babe.” You shrugged, but Matt denied it, still trying to win. “Ouu. What a loser.” You said when you as first crossed the finish line and winning the race.
Mail frowned as he laid his blue console down on the floor. His head stared up at the white ceiling and after a few seconds, his eyes moved to your cute face. You smiled warmly at him, moving closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder.
“Hey, Mail.”
“Hm?”
“You may suck in ‘Mario Kart’, but I love you anyway. Don’t worry.” You whispered, closing your both eyes, and he sighed loudly, patting you on the head.
“I love you too, stupid girl.” He replied just softly like you did it just a moment earlier, also closing his eyelids and breathing much more calmly.
— BEYOND
“What are you doing, dear?” A low voice echoed in the small, bright kitchen, so you turned and laughed gently as you saw the hunched dark-haired boy next to the white refrigerator.
“Croissants with strawberry jam. Your favorite.” You answered truthfully. “I’m almost done, but maybe you want to help me, Bey?”
“I’d rather watch you do it by yourself.”
“Okay. Then come over here.” You laughed under your breath as you continued to work on your sweets. Beyond was watching you closely during this time, every now and then asking what you are doing at randomly moment; of course you were always answering his questions, all the time encouraging him to help you. He refused, however, saying he will probably screw up something.
So when you finally put the croissants in the preheated oven, you turned to him and smiled again, saying that they would be ready in about twenty minutes.
“Maybe we rest on the couch for a while?” You offered, grabbing his cold, but smooth hand and pulling him towards the living room and the sofa on which you both lay down after a few seconds; Beyond on the mattress, you on his warm chest.
Although the feeling of love was foreign to the black-haired boy for most of his own life, now he understood the idea of loving another human thanks to you. It was nice to have your tiny body in his arms and smell your fruity hair shampoo or shower gel.
Also, it was as nice to eat your croissants with some jam and be fed by you.
#— 🍁#death note#death note imagines#death note scenarios#death note x reader#l lawliet scenarios#l lawliet x reader#l scenarios#l x reader#mihael keehl scenarios#mihael keehl x reader#mello scenarios#mello x reader#nate river scenarios#nate river x reader#nate scenarios#near x reader#mail jeevas scenarios#mail jeevas x reader#matt scenarios#matt x reader#beyond birthday#beyond birthday scenarios#beyond birthday x reader
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Interdimensional Moms: part 1
Intro <-
Yang:So how we doin this? Drawing straws or... well we actually don’t have straws here so-
Weiss:It’s obvious that you wanna go first.
Blake:Extremely obvious.
Ruby:All over your face.
Yang:Hey now, don’t call me out like that! We all have so much to sort out here. I don’t even know where to begin. Differences could start and stop anywhere for all we really know.
Blake:From what it seems, Beacon itself would have one or two minor changes, but the real changes start after the fall. At least, for you three that is.
Weiss:You saying you’re different?
Blake:Unless you three started going on dates with Jaune at Beacon, then yes, I’m different.
RWY:(They’ve been together that long!?)
Yang:Okay, starting from Beacon...nothing really stands out too much. Jaune and I were just friends. *cringes* Back then, a certain faunus caught my eye.
Blake:Ah...right. I guess that tracks in practically every universe.
RW:Oh yeah it does. You two are joined at the hip.
Yang:Haha, really? Glad to hear it. My Blake and I are best buds! Remnant has never seen such a dynamic duo! Can’t say it didn’t take a lot of time effort after a rough patch. We actually dated in my world.
Blake:Same.
Yang:What!? How long?
Blake:I don’t know, it was pretty on again off again.
Yang:Well for me it was after Haven. Both of us had gotten pretty serious. All the growing we’ve done together and apart had brought us closer. However, Adam unintentionally put a wedge between us. His attempt to change and the problems that came with it were-
Yang stopped midway and saw the confused faces of her otherworldly teammates. They were shocked, confused even. Especially Blake, who looked the most shocked of all.
Yang:Umm did I say something odd?
Blake:Adam, he...isn’t dead?
Yang:Oh, well I guess that’s the start of the major changes then. Blake and I fought Adam at Argus. Stabbed him through the chest and watched him fall down rocks into a river.
Ruby:That lines you with my world. Dude died that day. Like any normal person should.
Yang:Well Adam is anything but fucking normal. Man has the craziest luck. A young women, the winter maiden in fact, she saved his life. She’s not exactly normal either. The maiden, Jacquelyn, ended up sticking by him to see if she could change his ways. This naturally meant we’d run into them again. And that’s how things fell apart.
Blake:What do you mean?
Yang:You were fully committed to seeing if Adam could actually change. I wasn’t, so we constantly butted heads in any situation involving him. Then we would fight about things that had nothing to do with at all. Eventually, we broke it off. We remained on decent terms but I was pretty heartbroken about the disconnect. Enter our lovable blonde idiot. Jaune did everything in his power to cheer me up.
Weiss:Sounds like him. Always such a bleeding heart. That boy just can’t help himself. Let me guess, his kindness and concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy?
Yang:Hehe, guilty. It was more of his willingness to laugh at my puns. Jaune’s always been interesting to talk to. He tries to act cool and calm even though he’s terrible at it, then comes clean right after. Before I knew it I was telling him things I hadn’t talked about with people before. I could tell he looked at me like most guys do, but also genuinely wanted to listen to me. Talk about playing unfair; he got defenseless. Suddenly I was smiling again. Anytime with him was time well spent. Then one day, I kissed him.
Ruby:Happily ever after?
Yang:Not even close! Hahaha!
Weiss:Why do you sound proud?
Yang:It’s funny looking back at it to a certain degree. Gods, I was such a brat. More than a few fights are on me. Between Blake, Raven, and other experiences, my insecurities flared up in ugly ways over nothing. It even got us to break up too. I was officially done with dating. My Ruby was out in an uncomfortable position.
Ruby:I bet! I’d never want you two fighting. Especially in my world. Picking between the person I love and my sister!? I don’t know what will happen.
Yang:I kinda do. *sets up* You’d start dating Jaune because you’ve looked at him since Beacon. The two of you would confide in each other and share a special kind of love, but it would be bittersweet. All because your sister still pines for him and never met to make him leave, and Jaune never says it, but he hates how things fell apart. He’s faithful to you and would never do you wrong, a guy to truly cherish. So... you let him go. Watch him walk back to your sister like you asked, because my happiness was worth that much to you.
Ruby:....
Yang: In my world at least. Honestly it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do. We must’ve cried over that conversation for hours. I felt so guilty and you only smiled, hugging me tight. Jaune and I had a few more stumbles. Nothing serious though. Eventually we moved in together when the world was saved. You and Oscar got together officially which made me happy. Even made our weddings a competition of who’d make dad bawl his eyes out the most. You won by the way; Raven came back into our family and into dad’s arms. Last but not least I had a baby. Yujin Xiao Long, my fucking pride and joy from above.
Weiss:Wow, that’s a lot.
Blake:What am I doing? Did I marry Sun?
Yang:Yep. You and blondes Blake, I tell ya.
Weiss:Hold the phone! Who am I with!?
Yang:Pretty sure you’re technically single. Buuuut, Neo and your have gotten pretty friendly from what I managed to interrogate out of you.
Weiss:That’s, highly unexpected. For a number of reasons.
Yang:Better believe it. Besides Cinder, a few crazies, and Salem, a few people made something of themselves. Dying sucks after all.
Ruby:You have a dead Cinder?
WBY: You don’t?
Ruby:*crosses arms* Hmph, I’ll wait my turn. Yang, you said you’re the only mother from our team. If Blake and I have been married for quite some time then what, we don’t want kids?
The joyful sunshine from Yang slipped into grayer skies. Her smile faded and it increasingly got harder to look at this Ruby without thinking of her own.
Yang:Are you sure that’s something you wanna know? I’ll tell you, but I didn’t want to bring down the mood with the problems where I from.
Blake:Problems? How big of a problem.
Yang:The biggest we’ve faced. It’s...a lot.
Ruby:Well we’ve listened this far. *takes hand* Lay it on us.
Yang:Pfft, oh boy. So...umm...another secret war came up. One that caused us to leave our friends and family for over a decade.
Weiss:A decade!?
Blake:What gets worse after Salem!? Who tries anything after a grimm queen!?
Yang:So a majority of Remnant was still unaware of her, but a fight like that can only be kept under wraps so tightly. Plenty of people still learned fractions of the truth. A few of those people weren’t exactly nice guys. They idolized her efforts and became her followers that wanted to keep her will alive, starting with taking revenge on the people who defeated her. We were so unaware. So caught up in normalcy. They ambushed us, and I mean everyone. We...we didn’t come out unscathed. Ren was crippled badly. Weiss, you almost your brother. Jaune’s family got hit but thankfully lived. The real casualties were aimed to hurt Ruby.
Ruby:Oh, of course. S-So, either you’re about to say I had no time to start a family, or...
Yang:...
Yang:When I tell you the look you made when you learned what happened to Oscar, to Qrow... that’s the moment it felt like my little sister left forever. Till this day you don’t smile like you used to. Very recently, now that it’s finally over, you’ve started looking better, but those ten years were hell. We choose to go out and fight again, avoiding contact with family. I haven’t had a real opportunity to be in my daughters life.
Ruby:How old is she?
Yang:Sixteen soon. Left her when she was four so you know. *tearing up* I missed everything. Just about anyways. Ironically it was Raven and Adam that helped her through the years with Jaune and Dad. Eventually we came back and ooohh boy was Yujin not thrilled in the slightest. Hehehe. Her right hook is really strong. I only had about a week with her before things got complicated again. *wipes eyes* But it’s okay. We left on good term. Something I definitely don’t feel like I deserve.
Blake:I can’t believe a thing like that would be possible.
Yang:Cults are a huge problem in Remnant now. You’re definitely aware of that. You actually oversee a little group from the shadows to deal with them in secret. An idea you got from experience. Adam works for you and everything. Hate to admit, but he’s become the guy you wanted him to be. Even has a family. I’m grateful to him. He personally kept my girl safe.
Blake:To think I’d hear you say that. Now I know this isn’t my world.
Yang:Don’t get me wrong, I still will hit him if given the chance. My life hasn’t been charmed and sacrifices too great were happening way too many times but it finally has gotten to a point where everyone feels like we’re taking steps towards a better future.
Weiss:Moving forward?
Yang:Yes, I was trying to avoid the phrase but yes Weiss, we’re moving forward. Still... *looks at Ruby*....
Ruby:W-What?
Yang:It’s unreal seeing you like this. My Ruby has become so strong and endured but hasn’t really picked herself up completely. All her tragedy stemmed from the loss of Oscar and Qrow; her last talk with Oscar was fight about kids too. That’s the entire reason she went off alone in the first place. Looking at you I can’t help but question my own choices. If...I just let her stay with Jaune, then maybe-
Ruby:Nope.
Yang:Huh?
Ruby:Look, if I know anything about your world, then it’s gonna be me and I can tell you without a doubt your Ruby doesn’t blame or would consider her own happiness without you. She loved you enough to take the chance to find love again. You really think there’s anything you could’ve done differently at that point. That girl is as stubborn as they come! *smiles* So buck up cowgirl. You deserve it.
A sense of warmth came over Yang as she heard those words. This other Ruby smiled at her with the same love as her own; completely caring about Yang’s feeling before her own. Yang felt so...unburdened. She couldn’t help but cry a little, laughing softly as she did. Who would’ve thought love could transcend worlds? It was so vindicating, therapeutic even.
Yang:Ruby, you’re something else entirely, you know that?
Ruby:It’s my curse. All I ever wanted was normal knees but the world said “no, special eyes!”
Yang:Well I guess I should thank the world then?
Weiss:You said your Ruby is getting better? That’s good. Still, it must be pretty weird looking at Jaune. Can’t imagine how lonely it must feel losing a love twice.
Blake:It never numbs.
Yang:Geez you two, lighten up. We can’t all be depressed. Ruby also didn’t lose Jaune. Actually....there may or may not have been an interesting...arrangement for a brief period of time.
Ruby:Ehhh what?
Yang:Hehehe well, hahaha, ummmm a decade is a very long time without feeling any kind of pleasure in a bleak situation. And you know me, I have to share things with you all my life.
Ruby:OH MY GOD!!!
Blake:*grinning* Yooooo! You loaned out Jaune!?
Weiss:That’s....accurate; in a lot of ways.
Ruby:That’s so scandalous! How could you!?
Yang:I didn’t force it! I gave the option, you said no, then you changed your mind because things got real stressful. Like come on, a decade of death and loneliness.
Ruby:Sigh...yeah. I can see it. Still, it’s so filthy. He’s a married man. What, so I’d just look at you and say “Yang I’m gonna sleep with Jaune, don’t come in the room.”
Yang:....
Ruby:What?
Yang:....Nothing.
Ruby:Bullshit! What is it!?
Yang:*scratches head* Well, I was lonely too, and a week is only so long-
Weiss:Oh so it was a group thing!!?
Ruby:WHAT!?
Yang:Only sometimes!
Ruby:SOMETIMES!?
Blake:HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THAT IS AMAZING!
Ruby:Why are you laughing!?
Blake:Because that’s just so extreme, and not, all at the same time. I could totally see that happening.
Weiss:Same. Dang, Jaune slept with sisters. That’s dangerously close to being like your dad.
Ruby:That’s different!
Blake:Is it though?
Yang:Eh, I don’t see the problem. We’re all grown and make choices. Plus I’m the one who guided you through awkward teenage changes. It not like we didn’t share a room for years.
Ruby:That doesn’t make it okay.
Yang:Eh debatable.
Ruby:*red* It isn’t though! How could I do something so bold!? So taboo!?
Weiss:It isn’t like you’re the one who did it. Just a version of you.
Ruby:Not better!
Yang:Awwww it’s okay Ruby. Let’s hug it out. Hehehe *opens arms*
Ruby:Don’t touch me!
Weiss and Blake laugh until their sides hurt as Ruby tries escaping the bear hug that terrorized her. Yang’s world found interesting for sure. Weiss finally decides to help Ruby out.
Weiss:Got a picture of Yujin?
Yang’s eyes lit up and pulled out her scroll. Her team huddled around her and collectively cooed like that parents they are at the sight of a blonde young girl with gorgeous blue eyes with a black combat school graduation cap and gown and a certificate proudly raised up high. If it wasn’t for those eyes and shoulders length hair, they might’ve mistaken her for Yang.
Yang:She’s going to Beacon early because she’s fucking awesome like her mom.
Ruby:I think you mean her aunt?
Yang:I know what I said.
Weiss:I bet she’s just as hardheaded.
Blake:What do you think your kid is up to right now?
Yang: Well...*smiles*
xxxx
The girl in question sat at a work bench with oil on her face and her hands busy tinkering with gauntlets. She looked over at blueprints in a journal. If they were right, then she was definitely doing something wrong. How her mother made something so complex was crazy!
Yujin:Come on Yujin. You can fix a car, making gauntlets into a sword that don’t break should be easy!
Footsteps came up from behind her and a plate stacked with sandwiches. She looked up and smiled at her dad that gave her a wink, then kissed her forehead.
Jaune:Haveing fun, you grease monkey.
Yujin:Jokes on you, I like monkeys. Just a few more attempts and I’ll have the coolest weapon in Remnant. That entrance exam is as good as aced.
Jaune:Not if you don’t have a landing strategy. Tomorrow we’re going on a trip.
Yujin:Does it happen to be near a cliff?
Jaune:Who can say? Rule one of being a huntsman, be prepared for everything.
He ruffled her hair and left, laughing evilly. Yujin could tell he’s been waiting for this day. She pulled out her scroll and searched through a collection of videos labeled “mom” and found a super early one. She hit play and watched her mother give a peace sign to the camera as trees increasingly got closer from below.
Yang:Beacon rules!!!! Wooohooo!
The camera flipped and focused on a familiar blonde flailing through the air like a doll in the distance.
Yang:Oof, hate to be that guy! Wait, that’s vomit boy! Hahah, hope he survives. He owes me shoes. Poor dude. I guess he needs more training in flirting and landing. Wait, eugh I think he barfed again! Hahaha!
Jaune:Stop watching that one!!!!
Yujin:Hahaha but it’s the best one. The ending is priceless.
Jaune: *walks back down*
Yang:Well if he survives this I guess I can off him at least I can offer him mints and company. Fake it to ya make Jaune. Between me and Ruby, at least you’ll look like a player. Heh, nah, I don’t think I can support a bunny onesie.
Yujin and Jaune:*grinning* And then she did! *high-fives* Arc charm, baby!
#rwby#rwby au#jaune arc#ruby rose#weiss schnee#yang xiao long#blake belladonna#rwby dragonslayer#yujin xiao long#rwby lasting embers
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Almost every reviewer on YouTube wasn’t satisfied with this movie IMO they said it was just Marvel combined some elements from other marvel movies so they could throw fans a BW movie so we could stfu, it didn’t do justice to the the character ,what do you think, is it really that bad.
To be honest, I've been working on this one for a while but I keep writing and deleting my response. Because all the things I want to say sound gatekeeper-y, in one of several ways.
I think you can be a Nat fan and not read the comics. I think you can be a Nat fan and never talk about her. I don't think you need to know everything about canon and be an "expert" to be a fan. I'm not interested in a locked-gate version of fandom. I don't think this movie should just be for die-hard Nat fans. And I don't think that all Nat fans will like this movie, for a variety of reasons.
Despite all of that, a lot of the comic book/movie expert reviews I've seen feel, to me, like they were evaluating a movie that isn't the one this movie was ever trying to be, and missing some of what the movie explicitly says it is because that doesn't fit what they want from it.
A bit more spoilery and a lot longer under the cut. I am so sorry I'm like this.
This movie felt tailor-made for me. Not because I loved every answer they gave, but because the questions they asked are ones I've been waiting to hear since 2012, when I first saw Avengers and then immediately went back to see the rest of phase 1. I think people disliking the answers is a legitimate opinion, and I'm looking forward to detangling that with people. What surprised me in reviews was not reviewers disliking the answers, which is legit, but not even seeming to realize the questions had been asked.
Most prominently, what felt like the huge thematic arc of the movie to me has been nonexistent in so many reviews that I've started to feel like I made it up, even though I took notes of exact quotes so I could reference them. The movie isn't a Nat origin story, and it's not about her as a cool edgy villain, so not seeing either of those didn't bother me. It's a movie about Natasha's trauma and how that manifests, and how her attempts to break free of it have harmed others in the past, and how she can move forward from that. We never get the key that unlocks the history of Natasha's past, so if you approach this as a puzzle box, it's going to fail.
THIS INDENTED PARAGRAPH IS THE CLOSEST I GET TO DIRECT PLOT POINTS, FEEL FREE TO SKIP
Specifically most of the reviews seem to view Nat's motivating guilt as over how she escaped the Red Room, particularly one casualty she deemed an acceptable sacrifice. But as I interpreted it, Nat's guilt in this movie came from a much closer place: the other Widows were all she'd had, and Nat being able to escape the Red Room made the Red Room hold on to the other Widows that much tighter. She thought she'd taken it down, but she was wrong. So her freedom, essentially, came at their expense. Natasha working to take down the Red Room this time is personal both to avenge her own trauma and to make up for her guilt in the Red Room still existing and creating more trauma for her peers. Without this context (and to be clear, I have gone back over the quotes several times to see if I'm misinterpreting and I really don't think I am), the idea that all of her guilt is over what she did to a single person makes more sense, but it also makes the movie a lot less interesting. If Natasha is justified in blaming Alexei and Melina for condemning her back to the Red Room, how could the other Widows not blame Nat? To me the entire story swings from that, and by not acknowledging Nat's (inadvertent but still very real) responsibility for continuing the cycle, the movie would feel hollow.
PLOT POINTS OVER.
Many critics they seem to feel like the potential this movie introduced was wasted because Nat's dead, so what's the point. First of all, the point is she's Nat and we care. It's not like we went in to Iron Man expecting that we'd have a decade of a franchise; we cared in the moment, and this movie is asking for the same thing. It delivers for over two hours of NOT murdering Natasha, which is more than I can say for Endgame.
To be clear, BW does set up other things for the MCU, and it's but if you're only watching it for what it's going to tell you about the future of the MCU (and I get it, because that's how I'm watching Loki, and it's a very different type of watching than I did for FATWS), this probably IS going to be a disappointment, because this isn't a big crossover event movie; I mean, none of Sam's "Big Three" show up at all. But again, that's about the movie someone wanted it to be, not the movie this was aiming to be.
Is this like a lot of other Marvel movies? Kinda. It's definitely taking a lot from Civil War for its set-up. Its arc felt like a close mirror of to Winter Soldier to me, to the extent that I'm planning to rewatch that on Thursday so I can see how much that's just me projecting my fave onto it. The third act is very Marvel-third-act-y, as adapted to Nat's character; the adapting to Nat's character are the parts I like and the rest is kind of what I consider the MCU price of admission.
I also kind of hate that it feels like the last few movies- Black Panther, Captain Marvel, now this and some rumblings about Shang-Chi- have all been kind of dismissed with "it's just the Marvel formula." It is, but that doesn't change the fact that different protagonists make it different. Dr Strange is pretty much just "Iron Man 1 with cool magic" and people didn't mind, but "how does this formula change when the protagonist is fundamentally different than the archetype to this point?" is apparently not different enough. I get Marvel fatigue, I really do, but for me it's tempered by how, in this case, Nat doesn't have the moral clarity Steve or Thor or even Tony or Scott has. No one in this movie lets her forget that she's a trained killer who little kids look up to.
Again: there are parts of this movie that don't work. I also don't ever ever EVER want to seem like I'm saying that if someone didn't like this movie they're not a real Nat fan or they're wrong. I know there are reasons to not love this movie, and I'm sure I'll figure out more the more I watch- it may not make me not love it, but it will at least complicate it for me, and i think we all know I live for that shit. Moreover, I intimately know how much it sucks when something you've been enthusiastic about and anticipating for ages doesn't pay off and everyone else seems to like it- it's isolating and upsetting and you just sit there wondering why no one else understands, and that's bullshit and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. People who don't like this movie are valid!
But if someone has a history of seeing Nat as just background, or considering her as a T&A deliver system more than as a character, or caring about hot women with guns but not care about the trauma that turned them into that, or saying they like movies about women but just not THIS woman for every comic book movie about a woman not there for them to ogle, or claiming to be experts in all things comics while doubling down on their theory that Yelena wouldn't appear because she was in Agent Carter (YES THAT HAPPENED, MORE THAN ONCE, THE NORTH. FUCKING. REMEMBERS. AND WISHES THEY KNEW WHERE THEY SAVED THOSE SCREENSHOTS), I don't need to weight their reviews heavier than the adrenaline rush I felt watching this movie.
So in answer to your question, I don't think the movie was really "that bad." I think this movie delivers in very specific ways, which definitely are not the flashy ones or the "every Marvel movie builds to the next great EVENT" ones or the male power fantasy ones, and if those ways aren't the ways you care about, it's going to be a disappointment. Even if those AREN'T the ones you care about, it could be a disappointment for any number of reasons, some of which I noticed during the movie and some of which I'm sure I'll be surprised to read about Friday morning.
But it wasn't one to me. For whatever it's worth, despite the movie's flaws, I loved it, I haven't stopped thinking about it in five days, I can't wait to see it again, and I hope that whether other people do or don't like it, they want to roll around in it as much as I do to pick out every single shred of canon worth overanalyzing.
If this is all we ever get for Natasha- and it is a CRIME if this is all we ever get for Natasha but that doesn't mean it's not so- I am grateful that this is what we got.
#allofthereplies#Anonymous#Black Widow movie spoilers#BW spoilers#I mean I tried to make this not that spoilery but I'm sure I didn't completely succeed#also warning for long post#extremely long post#again: I am so sorry I'm like this
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My best friend died in the 90′
Ok, so, this is part of an ghost AU that I have and probably will be talking about in the future, where Virgil is a ghost and them and Remus are best friends, (this is not the main plot but anyway, like I said, I'll talk about it in later)
However, while this doesn't happen, please have this oneshot about Remus and Virgil meeting each other
Summary: Remus never had any friends, but that changed when he decided to go to the cemetery in the middle of the night, just to meet Virgil, a kid that besides being just as weird as Remus, happens to be dead.
(For a little bit of context: in this fanfic Remus comes from a family where eveyone can speak to ghosts, on his mom side, at least, but unlike Roman, Remus was never able to talk to a ghost before meeting Virgil)
Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil sanders, mentions to Roman Sanders
Warnings: swearing (specifically a kid swearing), discussions of death, mentions of a fight and bullying.
Obs: in this au Virgil uses exclusively they/them pronouns and Remus uses he/it. This is not a genderbend version of Remus.
I've always been the weird child so it seemed appropriate that my first friend had been dead for more than a decade.
It's a funny story: I had gotten to another fight, I even lost a tooth that day and probably would have lost two if I hadn't run away the moment the fucking coward that called himself a bully invited his friends for help. I may be fast but I can only bite so many people at once.
I didn't want to go home because Roman would be worried and my parents would be angry, which was the usual, but getting bullied was also the usual, didn't mean that I couldn't get tired of it, that's why I decided to go to the cemetery I mean, why not?
I knew I was far from my house because it took me less than ten minutes to reach it. My parents moved to as far as possible from there the moment Roman was born, the guy can't stand even getting closer to it, which I founded stupid at the time. I would give anything to have the stupid paranormal sensitivity that he was so afraid of instead of being the disappointment of the family.
Turns out he was right for being afraid.
After a quick look I confirmed that there was no other living soul at the cemetery besides me, so I smiled and sat on the closest gravestone. Mom always said that we should respect the dead and their resting place or else they would teach us a lesson or whatever but I was fine with that because I had decided a long ago that If a ghost showed themself to me it would be the coolest freaking thing ever. I kicked the gravestone weakly, as if knocking on a door. That thought made me giggle as I imagined a ghost appearing in pajamas, angry at me for disturbing them that late at night. I kicked again, this time a little harder.
"Stop that" someone mumbled besides me. I immediately got to my feet, thinking that the gravedigger had seen me but fortunately I didn't see an angry adult, but a kid. They were using a black hoodie and had equally dark hair falling on their face. They were pale as a dead body, fat and tall, basically the opposite of me, an unhealthily skinny latino little shit. I snorted.
"What are you gonna do about it?" I kicked the gravestone once more. They seemed startled, backing up a little.
"You- you can see me?"
"Why wouldn't- OH MY GOD YOU'RE A GHOST?!" I screamed not even caring if someone could hear me. Virgil cared.
"Sshh! I-" they seemed disconcerted but gave up with a sigh "Yes, I'm"
"Oh! Holy shit! Is that your gravestone?! Is that why you appeared when I kicked it?!" I jumped in excitement, getting close to them to take a closer look at my most recent discovery.
"No, I just don't think you should kick it. It's disrespectful"
"Yeah, whatever! Oh my god I can't believe I'm seeing a ghost! Suck it, mom, I knew I could do it too!" I exclaimed to nothing in particular as if she could hear me. "What's your name?"
"No- look, I'm sorry, I didn't think you could see me, I just- I should go" they said in the classic "I want to get rid of you" that everyone used after talking to me for more than five minutes. I started to get desperate, this was my first time seeing a ghost, I wouldn't let them leave that easily.
"No, don't go! I promise that I'm cool! Sorry for kicking your friend's gravestone, I don't know, please stay!" I begged and I guess my irresistible cuteness touched their heart because they turned to look at me again.
"He's not my friend," Virgil explained. "Just an old ghost that doesn't like to be bothered." they looked down shyly and I thought that was cute. "My name is Virgil. What's yours?"
"My name-" I always hated to tell people my deadname, I just didn't know why at the time "You can call me the Duke because my name is shit I really hate it y'know, it really sucks ass" They probably raised an eyebrow, it was hard to tell with all that hair failing on their face, but didn't say anything besides:
"Why not the duchess?"
"Because I don't want to" replied, crossing my arms as if challenging them to disagree. Virgil looked me up and down, processing my appearance. I was using dirty green legs, a black dress that my mom insisted that I wore for school and an old all star. Their eyes stopped at my face, with my bloody nose and the missing tooth. "What happened to your face?"
"Oh yeah I got into a fight! But it's cool, I'm not afraid of those assholes" now they seemed worried.
"Why did you get into a fight?"
"Just the usual, he stole my lunch, pushed me out of my bike, called me some bad words and I bit him. Y'know everyone thinks blood is so gross but I kinda like the taste." I looked at them, trying to see their reactions. I couldn't see their eyes but I'm sure they widened as Virgil got closer, saying in the same worried tone that Roman used:
"You should be careful! Have you told your parents?! Do you have any friends to walk with you? Or you could tell a teacher! No, forget it, teachers never help, at least not when I was alive. Is there anyone you can trust to protect you?"
"Wow, chill, I can take care of myself"
"I'm serious, Duke!" I rolled my eyes. I hated when people treated me as some fragile girl that couldn't take care of herself. Turned out I just hated that people treated me like a girl.
"Why do you care? I just met you"
"Because-" Virgil changed their mind mid phrase. Can't blame them, I wouldn't share my backstory and the reason I died that easily either if I was a ghost. "You seem nice, I don't want you to get hurt" I don't think anyone had ever called me nice by that time. Weird, gross, disturbing, problem child, ungracious I had always heard, but nice was new, even Roman just called me "cool" or "brave" at best. So, of course, I got defensive.
"Hm. Want me to tell you what he, Peter by the way, is the name of the asshole, yeah, he's a big asshole, what Peter and his friends called me?!" Again, Virgil barely reacted to my swearing and I was starting to get frustrated, it was always an easy way to get some fun reactions, especially from adults.
"Not really…" as they would learn in the years that followed, that kind of phrase rarely stopped me from speaking.
"He called me a bitch! That's when I bit him, actually, he was like, listen here you little bitch and he pointed his finger at my face and I bit it and I almost ripped it off I swear!" I looked at them, waiting for their reaction, already imagining what it would be. I was young but I had lived enough to mainly aim for negative responses just because they were better than no response at all. Virgil stayed in silence for longer than I wanted which was like the most boring response.
"How old are you, Duke?"
"I'm going to be nine in three months! How old are you?"
"I died when I was ten."
"Cool! I was never friends with an older kid!" I was never friends with anyone besides Roman, but anyway. "I mean, you're my friend, right?" They didn't answer immediately, but then Virgil opened a smile and probably decided they were going to protect that little chaotic gremlin.
"Yeah, I guess I’m.”
#ghost au#Dukexiety#remus sanders#virgil sanders#cw swearing#tw death mention#tw bullying mention#rabbit writes
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