#he's neither truly bad nor truly good

[eccentricmya]

In defence of Maedhros

A couple days ago I vilified him, read his character in a truly unfavourable light, arguing that he was never a good guy. Well, this time I'll defend him! I don't think he was truly a bad guy either.

I start once again by summarising the general opinion on him: he was good then he turned bad, very bad, or even villainous. The phrase that caught my eye was "he ended up doing the enemy's work". Well, yes, if we assume the enemy only wanted to eradicate the free people. But I'm of the opinion that Morgoth was erasing dissension and opposition to his 'rule', his goal was not wiping out people but subjugating them.

Maedhros never did that. Yes, he killed refugees (an act when seen through the perspective of the world we live in seem even more horrific), yes he ruined Doriath, but he did not do these 'unprovoked'. Had his demand of the return of the Silmaril been fulfilled, there would've been no second and third kinslayings. One may argue that his reaction to not getting the gem was disproportionate to the offence. And I will counter-argue that the same logic can be applied to the people of Doriath and Sirion, who valued a jewel over their lives. The fact that the Silmaril escapes with Elwing shows an unwillingness to give up the jewel, even at the cost of the lives of their people. The Sons of Feanor were not asking them to give up their freedom and live under a tyrant, like Morgoth was, they were asking for a mere trinket, the return of which would've prevented all that bloodshed. The kinslayings in Beleriand did not happen in isolation or for some grand evil plan. They happened because both sides put pride before lives. (At least the Falmari at Alqualonde had he excuse of defending their own creations, not a stolen one.)

All this on top of the Oath as a driving factor. The text gives it an almost sentient quality in its wording of its presence. For the third kinslaying the Silm says this: "the third of the great wrongs achieved by the accursed oath." Not by Feanor or his sons but by the Oath. To me, this reads like the Oath has taken an evil turn of its own, much like the One Ring. And you will bend to its will, whether for good reasons or not, and few will be able to resist its call. As many have pointed out, Maedhros did resist the Oath, both before Doriath and before Sirion in repentance of Doriath. That is not how a villain works for me.

Some speculation- it is said that Feanorions did not have the guts to assail Luthien while she wore the Silmaril, and I raise you this: what if they did not attack her and kill her as the Oath demanded because she had turned human and could no longer be reborn?

Which brings us, at last, to a very controversial idea. Why is killing elves so bad? Elves who have the option of rebirth with no loss of memories? I think most of us forget that they're not human who, once dead, will never return in the same form, or if they are indeed reincarnated, then unable to recall their previous lives or meet their loved ones from before. Elves get to return to life and resume their lives from before. Indeed, that is one of the prerequisite for rebirth- that they're ready and willing to take up the life they had before dying. So how is it as bad as killing humans? I feel callous and heartless saying this, but ending an elf's live is like uprooting a tree. It'll take years for it to grow back from the seed again, but it will grow, not in the same place or time but it will exist again. Not like animals who die. Once they cease to be, there is no coming back for them.

In conclusion, I don't think Maedhros is a true bad guy, which is why I used 'anti-hero' for him, though maybe 'anti-villain' would fit better. He's simply someone working with the cards dealt to them, chiefly the Oath. Now sure, that is as much a defence as voluntary intoxication is in hit and run cases, but even the Oath was not of his own wording or sworn in isolation or with full awareness of what it truly entailed (otherwise words like 'torment' would not have been used in relation to its effects). The one who chose to swear to Eru was Feanor, while his sons chose to follow him. It's a minute difference but it's there, which is why Feanor is still the far more condemned one in the eyes of the Valar.

#opinions are my own take on the silm not a comment on yours #maedhros #i can have five different readings of him and none would do him justice lol #silmarillion #he's neither truly bad nor truly good #he just is #like me and you #i swear this is the last I will say on this #but he's so 'compelling' lmao #JustBizarre

[goldensunset]

Envy is absolutely the most cringfail sin. it's about spending your energy NOT minding your own business and being obsessed with what other people have. and it's the only one that grants you no pleasure. it's just misery. completely pathetic

loving the fact that you have an opinion on this and needed to say it. mutuals please sit down it’s time for the philosophy and ethics socratic seminar on tumblr dot com

#listen they’re all pathetic as long as you understand what they actually truly mean #and not the oversimplified broadened media ideas of them #like you see i don’t think jealousy is necessarily bad if it’s 1. something objectively good to have and 2. something with no scarcity #i.e. like if you wished you could be as kind and patient as someone you know so you seek to emulate them #you’re jealous of them in a way that hurts neither you nor them but leads you to greater personal virtue and appreciation of them #of course if it’s not a situation like this then yeah you’re right it is pretty pathetic #but i consider envy to be something different #jealousy is wanting someone else’s happiness #envy is resenting someone else’s happiness #envy says if i can’t be happy you shouldn’t be happy either #envy is that toxic person who refuses to make any effort to improve themselves #who just whines all day in the hopes of annoying you so they can take a minor comfort in your misery #this is also related to sloth though too #sloth is not refusing to participate in grind culture or whatever it’s never taking a stand and doing the thing when it’s needed #sloth is the person who’s too afraid of facing difficulties so they always have to be neutral. aka they’re useless. #alternatively envy is the guy who’s in love with this lady who’s already taken #and he retaliates by killing her boyfriend/husband (possibly as well as her too) #so yeah envy is definitely pathetic at best and downright monstrous at worst #but like don’t get me started on pride. that is peak immaturity #y’know the people who are like ‘I WILL ATTACK AND DETHRONE GOD’ yeah i’ve never met a happy and peaceful person who says that lol #it’s just weird… #pride is just about making it all about yourself #the thing is that being full of yourself is a problem of course #but then there’s also the toxicity of hating yourself #constant self deprecation is just as damaging as a huge ego #like the way to counter pride is not to be like AAAAAH I HATE MYSELF I’M GARBAGE girl stop. pick yourself up #ppl like that are still making a scene and making it all about themselves. it’s not healthy and they should seek genuine help #like just. chill. literally. go talk to someone. go do something. being trapped in your own mind can go one of two bad ways #asks #thanks anon

[whim-prone-pirate]

rian johnson has managed to evade all common ethical problems in his screenwriting and i want everyone to know that the knives out mysteries are a perfect representation of how to write about a certain community respectfully AND simultaneously not make a big deal of how good you are at being a diverse writer.

in knives out and glass onion, both main characters are women who have been wronged by the other main character(s)—in marta's case, she experiences xenophobia from the thrombey's constantly; in andi's, she came up with a billion dollar idea which was stolen by a white man. when she took him to court for it, her entire friend group sided with this man; this directly affects helen after andi's death.

andi and marta's stories specifically represent real experiences for women who are minorities in america, but the stories are told without being too ham-fisted or obvious about it. these aren't stories about racism, xenophobia, and misogyny, they're stories involving racism, xenophobia, and misogyny, which i feel is something you don't often see. they're not triyng to prove a point by telling these stories, they're just stories being told—it's a difference that's hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. it's got less of a looking-into-the-camera-for-emphasis vibe.

alongside this, benoit was never a white/male savior to neither helen nor marta (respectively). he helped helen when she came to him about andi and he stood behind marta when he saw the tox report, but he never took over the case and they were never treated like damsels in distress. in the end, helen and marta took control of their own revenge and benoit nudged everyone else to the side while they did it. benoit is not the hero of these stories, helen and marta are.

this is good fucking writing!!!! i need film bros to be positively insufferable about rian johnson NEOW

edit 12/26/22: i've been told that ana de armas is a white latina. genuinely i did not know, she always looked brown to me and i haven't seen her in anything other than knives out, that's truly my bad. i've updated the post now to change the language about marta, other than that everything remains!

#rian johnson #glass onion #knives out #benoit blanc #marta cabrera #helen brand #sorry if this is a little incomprehensible i just had to spend four hours with my grandma #bbcu #benoit blanc cinematic universe

[spilledartery]

loveless union . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, noble / clan ! au, angst, unrequited love, sex, cheating ( ? ), implied trans kuni, pregnancy – i need to feed my breeding kink, please bare with me. ]

it was an arranged marriage. neither you nor kunikuzushi wanted this, but since your clan was indebted to his clan, your parents had just proposed you to be married to the raiden heir. it was shocking how the heir’s mother, ei, agreed, given how she was the one who casted demise upon your clan.

the wedding ceremony came and went, and so did the past couple of years. kunikuzushi was harsh, he didn’t want this – he was forced to sever his ties with his ( secret ) lover from the kaedehara clan, he was forced to marry someone he never loved; you.

you never loved him, too, but, ever the gentleman you are, you treated him with care and respect. when he was sick, you’d tend to him, you would compliment him, you would never talk bad about him. despite his opposite treatment of you, you understand. neither of you wanted this.

it was easy to fool your families, too. whenever yours and his parents are on the same table, you and kunikuzushi would act the star-crossed lovers, making them believe that you’d learned how to love each other.

the two of you would laugh, stare at each other lovingly, hold each other’s hands, lean closer to whisper something in each other’s ears – even ei couldn’t help but watch fondly; you were taking good care of each other.

“the both of you aren’t getting any younger,” your mother gushed, somehow confident to talk, despite being in the same table of her rival woman. she took a sip of wine, sending you and kunikuzushi knowing looks. “when are you both supposed to bring forth your heirs, hm?”

beside you, kunikuzushi tensed, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. you understand, you always do.

your darling husband masked his true feelings with a seemingly shy smile. “oh,” he said, glancing at you with a soft look. “we... have been trying.”

you saw through those eyes, and you acted along. “my beloved is right, mother.” you took the boy’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “it may take a while, but there will surely be little us’ running around the manor soon enough.”

“we will be expecting,” came the unreadable tone of kunikuzushi’s mother.

the next few months came by, and you and your husband are walking around the festivities. there were stalls, bustling vendors calling for the consumers’ attention. you two played the part of a married couple: you held hands, wrapped your arm around his waist, pressed close to each other – no one suspects a thing.

until you and kunikuzushi saw a certain boy with white hair and a red streak, he was staring at your husband. ah, it seems like they still have their affair going on, and you felt your heart shatter, just for a bit. you look down at kunikuzushi, who was in your arms, but looked longingly at his lover, the one he truly loved.

you let go of him. and he just looked up at you with hidden gratefulness, and rushed towards the kaedehara.

kunikuzushi didn’t return to your shared bed that night.

you understand, truly, you do. it was a good thing you stopped yourself on the brink of falling in love with him. you two may be married, but that didn’t mean you were meant for each other. you understand.

even now as you entered his body, after a week of the festival, of him with the kaedehara, you understand that the pleasure placed upon you is nothing but an obligation, a responsibility. it was to appease your families – to create an heir. even as you held kunikuzushi’s hand delicately as you pushed further into him, you knew that this union isn’t genuine.

you merely placed a kiss on his cheek as he reached his orgasm, and while you emptied inside of him, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear to calm him down after his high. and when he fell asleep without so much as a reply to you, you cleaned him and covered his naked body with the covers. you turned your body away from him, after – you know he wouldn’t be happy if he saw himself against your chest in the morning.

it was into six weeks when he began showing symptoms. kunikuzushi was nauseous, he continuously complained that his stomach was aching, and when you both talked to a trusted mage, they confirmed that you and kunikuzushi are expecting an heir.

you took good care of him. whenever something is aching, his shoulders, his feet, you would wordlessly massage him, you would bring him tea, knowing he loves bitterness; you played the part of being his husband, being a to-be father.

it was two months to his pregnancy that he felt his heart skipping a beat whenever you’re near. kunikuzushi told himself that he’d never feel something for you, he swore not to – but he couldn’t help it, not when you were taking such good care of him despite his attitude towards you. you never complained, never voiced out any discontent nor did you scowl at him when he always sent you a piercing glare.

perhaps, now, as your own family is beginning to grow, he could finally return the treatment you deserved from him, as his spouse.

it was strange when he began snuggling with you when you both went to sleep, when he began kissing your cheek, pecking your lips, smiling at you – it sent a small spark in your heart, but you don’t understand. is this because he’s only pregnant? he does not only crave for strange combinations of food, but also company? well, you still played along. you cared for him.

though it was unfortunate that during this time, you had to leave for mondstadt to attend some meeting – about creating allegiance there and whatnot. it was surprising that kunikuzushi kissed you passionately before you board the ship. you kissed him back just as fiercely, but you know it was merely for show because people are around; they wouldn’t want to see a supposed married couple being cold and distant to each other, especially when the spouse is to leave for many nights.

but what kunikuzushi wasn’t prepared for was the change of your demeanor when you came back. it wasn’t a bad change, but one that slowly broke kunikuzushi’s heart.

he was heavily pregnant, and he wore a robe too big to cover the bump in his belly – the bulge was still visible, but not much. kunikuzushi greeted you with a kiss on your cheek when you came home, asking how was your stay, if it was successful... though you answered these questions diligently, something was amiss.

no longer did you gaze warmly at him, but you became more distracted. you still cared for him, yes – but, now, kunikuzushi thinks it’s merely an obligation, nothing more, nothing less. your touches were more genuine then, now, it lacks those. when he kisses you, it was you who would pull away first and just kiss his forehead before turning away from him.

what had happened?

sometimes, he’d watch you write down on a parchment. it became a normal occurrence now. who were you writing for, he never asked. when you receive letters, he’d watch you smile – that smile that was once directed at him, but now it was more honest, like the reason for it was deeper.

he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, invading your privacy. you were asleep, and he walked to the dresser where you kept all the letters you’d been receiving. kunikuzushi subconsciously placed his hand on his baby bump as he unfolded a paper and read.

ah.

it seems you’d found someone who piqued you interest while you were in mondstadt. the way this person wrote to you was far from being friendly. it was as if...

kunikuzushi wiped a tear that fell from his eye. a couple more flowed through his cheeks, though, and he didn’t care wipe them anymore.

had he been too late love you? was it too late for you to love him?

reminiscing of the times when he treated you harshly, when he talked so bad about you, when he disregarded your opinions, when he rolled his eyes at your compliments, when he felt disgusted whenever you kiss his knuckles... perhaps, he does deserve this, and perhaps you’ve finally found someone you loved outside the marriage, as he had been with his affair with the kaedehara before. he deserves this.

kunikuzushi understands.

#[ lost stories . . . ] #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #sub kunikuzushi #bottom kunikuzushi #sub scaramouche #bottom scaramouche #scaramouche x male reader #kunikuzushi x male reader #angst #unrequited love

[lady-griffin]

Small Parallel I love with Knives Out and Glass Onion

Neither Harlan Thrombey nor Andi Brand are good people. They’re not. They’re also not evil people to be clear, but again, they’re not really good people.

By the kind of people his family and especially his children are, we get a sense of who Harlan is or largely was in his life, especially with the comment that there is so much of him in Ransom.

Andi was also clearly more than okay with both Birdie and Duke as not just acquaintances but close friends; as well as what other nonsense came out of Miles before “Klear,” and she was his business partner and friend.

She wasn’t some moral beacon of wholesomeness.

Her standard of good was – 

Let’s not put this very dangerous and unstable thing that hasn’t even come close to being properly tested out into the world, especially not under our company’s name; because we are not some daring startup company anymore, we’re an established conglomerate and this could easily sink us.

That’s not exactly a high bar of morality.

And that’s okay.

Really it is.

I like how neither movie truly idolizes Harlan or Andi to the point they are made out to be truly good people, BUT yet, we still see why Marta and Helen clearly loved and cared about these two and why their deaths matter.

Marta and Helen are our truly good souls for these movies. 

The two main groups of people - The Thrombeys and The Disruptors - are all various shades of the same kind of bad person for each movie.

The Thrombeys are all willing to live off Harlan’s hard work and they all believe they are entitled to his fortune because it’s their family right. It’s theirs. And once you peel back the layers of liberal or conservative, they’re all the same, because they’re all a bit more than willing to defend what they think is theirs, with knives out and teeth bared.

The Disruptors are somehow even more reliant on Miles than the Thrombeys were on Harlan (which is saying something); and they will cling onto him until they see his boat is doomed to sink. They literally know he killed two people; two of their so-called “friends” and they’re not willing to do anything. At least, not until Miles is truly fucked. 

They all care more about their own survival and ambitions than doing the right thing. And once more, when you peel back the layers of liberal or conservative, we once again see they’re all the same, they’re all more than willing to lie for a lie and stab a “friend” in the back.

But Harlan and Andi are our mixed bags of morality.

This is clear enough with the two types of people they are associated with.

The Thrombey Family and Marta.

The Disruptors and Helen. 

They’re kind of like an optical illusion, it really depends on how you look at them and what you see when it comes to their own morality. 

However, they do have two traits that I think redeem them for the audience, or at the very least make them more admirable to us.

They are genuinely self-made people.

Harlan was a brilliant murder mystery writer. He was. And he did build this publishing/franchise empire of his.

Andi was a brilliant mind who dabbled in many different things, but her real talent (as I saw it) was being able to spot a certain something-something in people. She saw the doers in the world, even when they weren’t quite there yet, she saw their potential to be the kind of person who others would notice and remember.

They were also both willing to stand by their values and once they made a decision, they would not be bullied into changing it. 

Harlan decided to cut off his family and was sticking by that. 

Andi decided to walk away from Miles and was sticking by that.

And I don’t know, I just like that little bit of extra moral complexity these two characters bring to these movies.

Oh, and Benoit Blanc is a good person, but he definitely isn’t governed by what the law or society says is good. He’s an eccentric who’s here for a good time, a fun and challenging mystery, and is more than willing to help out the good souls in the world when he gets the opportunity.

#Knives Out #Glass Onion #Glass Onion Spoilers #harlan thrombey #Andi Brand #Marta Cabrera #Helen Brand #Benoit Blanc #Rian Johnson

[snowyslytherinowl]

Locked in the Staffroom

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall know that Severus Snape and you have hidden feelings for each other. When Snape refuses to acknowledge that you truly reciprocate his feelings, they lock him in the staffroom to force him to finally ask you out.

*GIF isn't mine.

Excited whispers and giggles sound from inside the staffroom. Who in the wizarding world is giggling? Severus thinks before he pushes the door open. No wonder; it’s Dumbledore and Minerva. The two jump away from each other the second Severus walks in. Tea flies into Minerva’s hands, and Dumbledore stares dreamily out the window. 

“Good day, Severus. What brings you here?” Minerva asks after sipping her tea.

He ignores their question and sneers, “What were you two old bats whispering about?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles. “In truth, Minerva and I were discussing what a lovely couple you and the charming History of Magic professor would make.” Minerva chokes on her tea, clearly unaware that Dumbledore planned to spill the details of their gossip talk. “We know of your deep, burning feelings for her and believe that it would be prudent to act on them.”

Blood rushes to Severus’s face. “I do not have feelings for her,” he spits. Even if he did, he thinks they would be neither deep nor burning. Sitting next to you at every meal, admiring your outfits and eyes, and dreaming of your every waking moment surely doesn’t constitute as that. 

Fine, perhaps he does fancy you just a little bit. 

“One may attempt to conceal their love, but love cannot be concealed in the way one gazes at their beloved,” Dumbledore says dreamily. 

“She looks at you the same way you look at her, lucky for you.” Minerva raises her eyebrows and throws him a knowing, smug smile. “If you weren’t always so engrossed in your work, you’d see it, too.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “I do not appreciate your meddling in my relationships with the other professors. Either way, you are becoming old and delusional.” The other two professors burst out laughing as Severus turns away and pours a cup of tea for himself. He makes a final comment as his back is turned, “Perhaps you bats need better spectacles or charms to improve your sanity.” 

Mere seconds after he takes his first sip, the staffroom door opens. Severus’s eyes shoot up to see who has entered into this embarrassing conversation, and it is none other than you. His gaze immediately lowers back to the tea, and his hair falls around his face to shield the fact that his face is turning an even brighter shade of red. You take note of the tense atmosphere and awkwardly greet, “Hi, everyone.”

Dumbledore and Minerva warmly greet you, while Severus nods in your direction. You blush at Severus’s albeit scarce attention and walk to stand by him at the drink table. 

“Look at the time. It appears that Minerva and I must depart for our daily bird watching. Hogsmeade residents have reported a sighting of the Fiery Frizzle, and it would be an absolute shame to miss witnessing the bird setting a cottage on fire,” Dumbledore declares. Minerva plays along and they stand up to leave the room.

“I didn’t know that you’re into bird watching,” you note as you pour milk into a coffee. 

“They aren’t,” Severus grunts with full knowledge of their true plan. They want to give you two some privacy so he can make some grand gesture demonstrating his love for you. Too bad for them; he plans to leave the staffroom soon after the older professors depart. Regardless of Severus’s comments, the two give him expectant glances before exiting. 

Silence engulfs the staffroom until you say, “I brought essays to grade. You can join me only if you want to, of course.” You smile shyly when he looks at you. 

“Unfortunately, I have duties to attend to,” Severus says and downs his remaining tea in one go despite how it burns his throat. With his hair covering his eyes, he glances at your dress one last time before heading for the door. It’s truly a shame that he doesn’t have more time (the courage, rather) to admire how it shows your curves in all the right places. 

Severus attempts to turn the door handle and discovers that it’s jammed. No matter the spell he casts and how many times he impatiently grunts “alohomora,” the door doesn’t budge. He notices that you’re looking at him, earning a nervous laugh from him. “The door refuses to open. Not surprising, considering I have been telling Dumbledore that it requires repair.”

“Really? I never had an issue with it. Do you need help?” you ask, but still walk over before he can respond. You cast several spells of your own, none of which work to open the door. Severus feels flustered, but whether it’s because of your closeness or his embarrassment at being unable to complete a simple task on his own, he doesn’t know. 

As you attempt to remove the door handle altogether, a realization hits Severus: the door won’t open unless he confesses his feelings or asks you out. His blood boils as he thinks about how that pair of old baboons are probably up in Dumbledore’s office at this very moment, giggling and kicking their feet with excitement like schoolchildren. He can’t wait to get out of here so he can storm into the office and hit them with every jinx and hex he can think of. 

But then again, neither of you can leave unless he makes a move. The staffroom is hardly the place for pouring his heart out or asking you out on a date. Severus supposes that inviting you to the Three Broomsticks is the best option since you might think he’s merely asking you as a friend. Though what is he supposed to do? Lean against the door and nonchalantly say, “Go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” Or magic a flower into existence and pop the question? Merlin, why does this feel more nerve-wracking than taking on a dragon or walking through the Forbidden Forest during a gloomy night? 

He’s snapped to attention when you say, “I don’t think this thing will budge.” 

“Yes, I believe so,” he mutters back. You’re looking up at him through your eyelashes. Ugh, this seems like the best time to ask you on a date. He crosses his arms against his chest, then uncrosses them because it makes him seem closed-off. Then they hang limply against his sides; no, that makes him look weak. Never mind any of this; just say something!

“Er, I want to… I was wondering if perhaps you, er,” he stammers and forces the rest out in a rushed sentence, “WouldliketogototheThreeBroomstickswithme?”

You scrunch your face together. “What?”

Why couldn’t you just hear him the first time? Do you wish to embarrass him? His eyes fix on a point on the ground to avoid the impending look of horror on your face as he clearly enunciates his next sentence. “Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me this Saturday?”

With every ounce of his being, Severus forces himself to look at you. Disgust isn’t written on your face at all. Instead, you’re grinning widely, and your eyes are even brighter than usual. “Yes! Is six okay?”

The muscles of his mouth force his lips into a small smile. “Er, it is,” he replies without thinking if it does. Either way, he’d move around his entire schedule for a mere minute of your time. But then his heart sinks as he realizes that you’ve likely only agreed to accompany him to the Three Broomsticks as an outing between two friends. 

Severus is proven wrong once more when you lean up to him and give him a quick kiss on the cheek! Oh no, he must look like a bashful schoolboy due to his burning cheeks and widening grin. No matter any of that, though, because you kissed his cheek!

“I, er, I shall see you then,” he stammers. You smile and nod in agreement before he reaches for the door handle to leave before he bursts with giddiness. Lo and behold, the door finally opens. 

Unlike what Severus expected, Minerva and Dumbledore are standing at the end of the corridor. Good; he can murder them without having to walk too far! He rushes over to them and upon seeing him, their faces break out into vicious little smirks. 

“I have half a mind to turn you into mice and feed you to snakes!” Severus sneers. 

The two professors look at each other and laugh so hard that Minerva has to put a hand on Dumbledore’s arm to stable herself. “We see that you’ve taken our advice to heart,” Dumbledore says. “Did she agree to your invitation?”

“That is none of your business!” he spits. 

“It appears that she did agree, Albus!” Minerva exclaims. “You can thank us for that later. I rather think that Minerva would be a beautiful middle name for your future baby girl.” 

Severus’s eyes narrow and he advances on the two, but he merely gets close enough to scowl in their faces. “I rather think that name hideous!” he snaps and jerks back to leave the two where they are in the hall.  

But he’s halfway to the stairs when Dumbledore calls back, “Perhaps Albus would be a suitable middle name for a boy!” 

Severus doesn’t respond. Instead, he flicks his wand at a window, smashing it and sending glass flying everywhere. His cloak billows around him as he grumpily climbs the stairs and disappears from sight, but he can’t help but wonder what name would be regal enough for his future child. 

#severus snape x professor!reader #snape x you #snape x reader #snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape #snape #light angst #fluff #happy ending #reader insert #harry potter #professor mcgonagall #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #dumbledore #mutual pining #romance #hogwarts #professor snape #hp fanfic

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Are you awake?

《 Eddie munson x fem!reader

《 Summary: Eddie can't seem to sleep.

《 Warnings: choking, unprotected sex, thigh job.

《 Word count: unknown.

A/n: Not proofread. Short little blurb.

18+ minors dni

The day had been long after spending it with your parents in their home. Neither you nor Eddie had expected to be over for that many hours. So when your Mom had offered for the two of you to spend the night, you obviously didn't say no. The trip back to Hawkins would be another couple of hours anyway.

Eddie had been struggling to be on his best behavior. He was. For the most part, he was being good. Until night came around, and you were in nothing but his old Hellfire shirt from high school. Your mom liked to keep old clothes of yours lying around just in case of situations like this. She never realized a lot of the clothing she saved was actually Eddie's from his late night visits that ended up being early mornings of him climbing out of your bedroom window.

"G'night, Eddie." You yawned, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, baby." He slid up closer to your back, hugging you to him with an arm thrown around your middle. Your head tucked under his chin. Your eyes grow heavy as sleep takes over.

Eddie tried to sleep. He truly did. His cock was getting painfully hard and no matter how much he tried to think of anything else it wouldn't go away. He needed you desperately. He promised he would behave, but seeing you in his shirt made his brain short-circuit. It was like he was seeing you naked for the first time all over again. As the night progressed, he finally decided to wake you.

"Eh! Psst! Baby, you awake? " Eddie, shook your shoulder lightly.

"Hmm." Your tired voice groaned.

"I fucking need you." His husky voice whispered by your ear. You felt a hand roaming up your leg.

"Eddie, we can't. This bed sqeaks too much," you whispered over to your boyfriend as you felt him pulling your panties down halfway down your legs. His hand moves back up to go between your thighs.

"Oh!...youre fucking soaked already sweetheart." He purred. You felt his middle finger running up your slit. Instinctively, you lift your leg, giving him more access.

"Was dreamin'." You confessed shyly trying to hide your face in the pillow.

"Yeah? Bout' me?" His fingers still gliding through your wet folds. Getting them nice and sticky with your juices.

You nod, still hiding from him.

"Aww, sweetheart, that's okay. I'm gonna take that ache away. He cooed a smile spreading on his face.

The living room was covered in total darkness except for the street lights peaking in through the curtains. The house was dead quiet except for the humming of the AC. You felt Eddie grinding his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

"Eddie, we can't, though this bed is so loud." You whined. You needed him just as bad as he needed you.

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to go real... real slow." His breath tickled your ear from behind. You felt his hand sneak up your night to pinch at your nipples. He knew that always drove you crazy. You were already getting intoxicated by his touch.

You squirmed in his hold as Eddie brings your back tighter to his chest.

His tip nudging at your wet opening slowly pushing its way in. You moaned a little too loud in the quiet house. Eddies hand moved to quickly cover your mouth.

"Shh gotta be quiet," He whispered in your neck, dropping his hand.

"M'trying." You whined.

You let a deep breath readying yourself for him.

"I know, baby. I know such a good girl." He praised. Something he loved doing, and he knew you loved hearing.

"....fuck you're wet." Eddiegrunted as his cock spreads you open. Your walls hugged around him perfectly.

"God, I can't wait to get you home." His jaw clenched, and nostrils flared. It's taking all of his strength not to just pound into you relentlessly. "G'nna have you screamin' for me."

Eddie gently places a hand to your throat while pushing his cock in deeper. inch by agonizingly slow inch. He pulled your head back to rest in the crook of his neck. His hand never applying pressure, just resting. It was tender but dominant. Making your stomach do flips and your head dizzy.

He pumps inside you softly, carefully. His languid strokes sending you over the edge. Eddies hips grinding on your ass as his cock stretches your walls. You swear you could feel every vein on his length pulsating inside you.

"Fuck fuck go faster." You begged as your becoming a whimpering mess. His hand still placed firmly on your throat.

"You know I can't, baby." Eddie murmured dragging his cock almost all the way out and pushing it back in little by little.

"I really wanna, but I can't." He was trying to go easy. To not make any noise and alert anyone as to what he's doing to you. Your soft, needy voice begging him to just let go was making it so much more difficult.

You bite down on your lip hard, almost drawing blood, trying to prevent another moan. His cock hitting that sweet spot on yours walls just right with every stroke.

The squelching of your pussy from his cock pumping you lazily was the only thing you could hear besides his heavy breathing. The inside of your legs covered in your slick. You were completely drenched for him. Your body covered in beads of sweat.

"I--i wanna cum. " You whispered. You feel that coil in your stomach building as you move one of your own hands to play with your clit.

Eddie takes mercy on you and thrusts his cock in you faster not caring if the bed is making any noise now. He can't keep this up for up for much longer. Your pleading was enough for him. He's always struggled to not give what you need. Even when you were bad for him, he still caved.

"Don't worry, baby, I got you." His voice low and ragged in your ear, causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps.

You continue rubbing tight circles on your sore bud while his cock splits you open. The hand that was once placed gently on your throat now tightened ever so slightly. Your legs shake. Your walls clenching around him. His grunting quietly in your ear. The springs of the old mattress screeching in rhythm to every thrust.

"Be a good girl and cum on my cock. I wanna feel you." He croaked, letting out a shakey breath.

Your release approached you almost too suddenly, and with a few more strokes, you cum around him hard. Your body trembling and writhing against his. Your orgasm ripping through you almost violently making your vision go blurry. No sound escapes past your lips as your mouth hangs agape. The hand on your clit pausing.

"Fuck baby thats it." Eddie groans still pumping you full of his cock as he helps you through your orgasm. "Gettin close too baby."

He pulls his cock from inside you with a loud schlick. You almost cry at the sudden loss, not wanting him to leave.

"Squeeze your thighs together for me jus' a little."

You do as you're told and close your legs back. You felt him pushing his cock between them. His length rubbing against your pussy. Pumping his cock in between your legs his tip rubbing against your sore clit.

Eddies rocking his hips against your ass frantically. His cock sliding on the inside of your thighs. Your juices dripping down your legs helping him pump his cock easily.

You squeeze them just a little more, making him moan louder. "Ooh! Sweetheart."

Every nudge of his tip on your clit causes your body to shiver. He's getting close. His thrusts are getting sloppy. His breathing is erratic, and at this point, he doesn't care if the bed is loud. He just wants to cum. He needs to cum.

"Mmphf! fuck i--im oh shit-." Eddie struggled to speak.

Just a few more long strokes he's spilling his cum all over the inside of your thighs and pussy. Making a big mess in the middle of your legs. Eddie doesn't stop or slow down until he's milked himself of everything he has left. The grip Eddie has on your throat loosens as he calms down.

After a few minutes of silence and just the two of you wrapped in eachothers arms.

"You okay?" He asked rubbing up and down your ark.

"I'm okay." You repled weakly.

He leans up in a panic." You think they heard?"

"Probably." You quietly laugh.

"We're leaving before anyone wakes up."

You don't even have to look back to know his face is red with utter embarrassment.

"Go to sleep, Eddie. I'm going to clean myself off." You moved to stand. Your legs felt like jello, but you're still able to walk. Barely.

"Im gonna smoke real quick." He yawns, stretching his limps.

The following morning, Eddie kept to his word and woke up before sunrise. Your eyes were barely able to register where you were before he's pulling you out the front door and taking you home quickly. Last thing he ever wanted to do was face your parents after something like that. Especially your father. Who made sure to give you a call as soon as he knew you would be walking through your front door. Luckily for your sake, they heard nothing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb

[nicestgirlonline]

dumb dumb

Pairing: Bucky x Dumbass!Reader

Warnings: none! lots of fluff ahead!!! 

Summary: Everyone can see the huge crush Bucky has on you...everyone except you of course.

Word Count: 3.7k and counting because I truly am incapable of being brief

A/N: This is for week one’s writer activity for  @the-slumberparty  the I Spy Challenge! I included all three of the items they shouldn’t be too hard to spot! I hope you enjoy it! Unbetaed, forgive me! Feedback is always appreciated :)

Update 2/17: You guys asked and now there's a Part 2

Typically it was Team Cap that were the first people awake in the Avengers Compound. Steve, Sam and Bucky were still on a soldier's schedule, usually getting up at 5 to work out before getting breakfast. 

So it was a bit of a surprise when they entered the kitchen to see the coffee was already brewed and you were helping yourself to a bowl of cornflakes. You were a Stark Industries biochemical engineer and judging  from your lopsided ponytail and your rumpled clothes, you had ended up sleeping in the lab. Again. Steve checked his watch, it was barely past 6. 

“Good morning! Another late night?” Steve asked.

“Morning Cap! Yeah, the thing about stomach acid is it's so fascinating I lost track of my time while studying it.” You cover your mouth to hide a yawn.  

“I think maybe only you think that.” Sam said, making you giggle a bit. Bucky entered the kitchen slightly later than the other two. His hair was damp and he had a towel wrapped around his neck, freshly showered. Steve definitely noticed that Bucky had started to insist on showering before breakfast right after the first time they discovered Y/N in the kitchen. 

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted, internally cringing at how loud you were. He was taken aback each time he saw her in the morning. The usually coordinated assassin bumped into the side of the breakfast bar with his hip and winced. 

“Morning.” he mumbled and gave a little wave before immediately heading to get some coffee, walking off the bump. Sam and Steve both glanced at each other. 

“You should kick Bucky’s ass, it’s his samples keeping you up at night,” Sam joked. You blushed and filled your mouth with more cornflakes. You’d specifically been studying well, all of Bucky? The effects of Dr. Erskine’s serum on his body mixed with the cryosleep and the other HYDRA experiments was a vast array of knowledge to tap into.

“It's not his fault I’m bad at time management. I really should stop doing this though. I'm sure my apartment misses me.” You say quickly as Bucky silently fixes himself breakfast. He pulls out the bagels and cream cheese with a bit more anger than usual. He sent Sam a glare but didn’t say anything. 

“Well if you’re here less, we’ll start missing you, won’t we Buck?” Steve asked. Both of them knew about Bucky’s soft spot for the scientist, too bad he didn’t seem like he was ever going to do anything about it. 

Bucky didn’t really answer, just sort of muttered something. You tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear trying to hide a blush.

“I'm sure Bucky won’t miss me. He’s gotten enough of me poking and prodding him.” You said hoping it came off as a light joke. While Bucky had been very willing to provide all of the samples you’d asked for, you secretly were starting to feel like you were no better than HYDRA in his eyes…

“And stealing my blood for science?” Bucky asked, his tone still grim. “‘S’not so bad when you do it.” He gave a small smile that he hid behind a sip of coffee. Steve remained quiet a moment, hoping either of you would make a move but both of you stayed blushing and looking in other directions. 

“Say, I was wondering to get your opinion on something. If there was a fella who was trying to get something nice for a lady friend, are flowers too old fashioned?”

“A lady friend? Steve, are you dating someone?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. But humor a hundred year old guy for a second here. If someone were trying to catch the eye of a modern woman such as yourself, would he have to buy you flowers, chocolates, diamond necklace?” He asked. You thought about it for a moment tapping your chin. 

“Gosh, not diamonds for me! I can’t wear any jewelry in the lab. I think flowers are nice! Everyone likes getting flowers sometimes. Maybe I should get some flowers for the whole lab, with Valentine's Day coming up and all.”  

Bucky smiled to himself. You were just the sweetest person he’d ever met. Always thinking about others. Steve of course caught the face and Bucky quickly turned away, trying to go back to neutral. It was such a stupid little crush, nothing more. 

x

You felt like your back might snap in half, that lab cot was really not optimal. You’d ended up staying in the lab past midnight and at that point it was easier to just crash than bother driving home.  You’d had to redo nearly all of your samples from yesterday, after your acid experiment melted nearly all the pipettes in the lab. You were probably going to have to get some more cheek swabs from Bucky too. 

You bit your lip. It was nice to have him in the lab so much. He didn’t talk a lot but he was always awfully sweet when he did. He also didn’t seem to mind your science babble. It was safe to say you’d developed a bit of a crush over the past few months. Too bad there was absolutely no way he felt the same way about you. He was a gorgeous Avengers for chrissake, he wasn’t going to date a dorky scientist who was studying the acid in his stomach. 

Speaking of the devil, when you got up to stretch a bit you were taken back by a face full of flowers, you leaped back in surprise. 

Bucky, wearing his sweatsuit like he had just gotten back from a run, was carrying a huge bouquet of pink and purple flowers. His face as usual was unreadable. You placed your hand on your now racing heart. 

“Bucky! I didn’t hear you come in!” You said as you regained your footing. 

“Uh sorry about that. Kind of a habit. Assassin.” He said with a shrug. The two of you stood in silence with the beautiful flowers separating you. Both of you  taking in the other. 

Can’t believe he looks so handsome while I’m sitting here looking like an absolute wreck

Can’t believe she looks so cute in the mornings while I’m in here looking like a creep. 

“These are beautiful!” You gesture to the flowers snapping the two of you back to reality. He half smiled and took a deep breath, ready for the little speech he'd prepared to go along with the ridiculous bouquet. 

“Yeah uh, I was just thinking about what you and Steve were talking about yesterday, with Valentine’s Day and all—“ He began. 

“It’s so nice that you got these for the lab!” You cried out taking them from his hands. Yesterday you had mentioned getting flowers for the whole lab, that must be what Bucky was referencing. 

“I…did. I did get these for the lab.” He said the smile now disappearing and back to his usual grumpy/ neutral expression. Some people found it a bit off putting but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“The techs are gonna flip, an avenger bringing us flowers! This is gonna brighten up the break room.” You squealed happily. It broke your heart a little, secretly hoping they had been for you. The gesture was really appreciated. Maybe he really didn’t mind all of your little experiments so much!

“I’m glad you like them.” He said. He sounded genuine but he looked so sad. You quirked your eyebrows, hoping that you’d be able to cheer him up if he stayed.  “Yeah so I’m gonna go now.” 

He quickly turned his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh you can stay—” You called after him but he was basically out the door. 

 “I’ve got to go on a run.” he called back.

“Oh.” you said to yourself as the door shut behind him. You clearly had been wrong, no way did Bucky like you at all. 

X

“Hey there I got a huge bunch of flowers for the lab. Because I think the lab is beautiful. And the lab is smart and funny. I really like talking to the lab even though I have no idea what the fuck to even say half the time.” 

“Talking to yourself again?” Steve asked, finally catching up with Bucky who had taken off at a mad man’s pace. 

“Eavesdropping again punk?”

“Flowers didn’t go over too well? I take it?”

“Not talking about it.” Bucky said picking up speed. Steve easily matched his pace, refusing to let his friend get away. 

“Maybe you should just ask her out. You used to be pretty good at that. Being charming.” Steve suggested. Bucky picked up speed again and Steve followed, the two of them now pushing hard. Nearly too hard for conversation. 

“Will you drop it?” Bucky grunted. There was no way she liked him. Why would she anyway? She was a beautiful, brilliant scientist and he was the grumpy old meanie avenger. 

“Just trying to help.” Now Steve was pissed, he pushed harder trying to pass his best friend. 

“Stay out of it.”  The two super soldiers ran on, lapping poor Sam a shameful amount of times. 

Used to be charming. Used to be? Bucky scoffed. He’d show them. He was present day charming. 

X

You really needed to work on your time management, you checked your watch and it was already 3 o clock and you hadn’t even had lunch yet. You were out of lab snacks too, so you decided to break for a quick lunch. 

You assumed you’d be in the kitchen on your own but entered to see Bucky with a cup of instant noodles. He was mid slurp when you waved hello. You went straight to the pantry to grab the basics for a PBJ. You could hear lots of coughing as you turned. 

“You’re not choking right? Do you need the heimlich?” You asked only half jokingly. You’d certainly do whatever you could to help him.

You turned back and Bucky was a bit red in the face but breathing normally again. 

“No. S’fine. Went down the wrong pipe.” He grumbled waving his hand as you went back to your sandwich.  

“Everyone loves the flowers. By the way, really made our week.” You took a seat across from him. Bucky straightened up a big and cleared his throat for the final time. 

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. You smiled back. 

There was a beat of silence. You looked down at your food, then back to Bucky only to discover he had done the same. You were looking into each other's eyes. 

“It was really so thoughtful.” You hoped you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt. 

“Well I was thinking of you when I saw them.” He said softly. Your heart soared. That was the sort of softness that you only heard from him in a few special moments. 

“Tony is having a screening of The Princess Bride. For Valentine's Day. As a treat to the company. Great movie, if you haven’t seen it.” You said very quickly. Not sure what was compelling you to tell him about it. It was one of your favorite movies and you were really excited to go to the screening until another scientist in your lab had asked you if you were bringing a date. It hadn’t occurred to you that the romance movie screening on Valentine's Day was going to be a mostly couples event. 

“I haven’t.” Bucky said. You were about to suggest he check it out when he continued “We should go. Together.” 

“Ok! Yeah! Yes we should go! Wow, that will be so much fun!” You could hardly believe it! Had your gambit worked? Subtly bringing up the movie with the hopes he’d come with you? 

“Uh cool, should I uh pick you up at the lab?” He seemed just as excited as you. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so smiley actually. 

“Yeah, I’ll have to bring my duffle bag so I have a change of clothes. I have this dress that looks like Buttercup’s — she’s a character in the movie. I should have more clothes here anyway. I hate my work clothes. And maybe a blanket too since the screening room is always so cold. We could bring snacks even though they’re usually provided. That might be overdoing it. ” You had started to ramble while Bucky rested his chin on his hand, contently listening. 

“You’re not planning on sleeping in the lab again are you?” He asked, concerned. 

“Well, I want to watch the movie and it's a bit silly to drive all the way home when I'm tired.” You said with a shrug. You really should stop sleeping at the lab so much, it seemed like you were starting to get a reputation. 

“Very true, you should not be driving while sleepy. But uh we could go to my place afterwards. It’s a much nicer commute. Probably a bit more comfortable than the lab.” He offered. 

“But Bucky, where would you sleep?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. The avengers apartments were nice but you were certain he didn’t have a guest bedroom. 

“I’ll take the floor. It’s actually not an issue.” 

“Bucky Barnes, I am not kicking you out of your own bed. No way. End of discussion.” You put your foot down. He let out a sigh looking up at the ceiling lights and then back to you. His whole demeanor changed 

“Well. I was trying to be a gentleman here but it is a pretty big bed. We probably could both fit. Since it seems like there are no other options. ”  He practically purred at you. You blinked, taken aback. You couldn’t remember a time where he had seemed more charming to you! But no, that couldn’t be right. Bucky Barnes was not actually offering to cuddle up with you on Valentine’s Day. This was you misreading the situation with him as usual. 

“Oh. You mean that as friends right?” You asked. Bucky looked pained and sucked his teeth for a moment. 

“Totally. As friends.”

X

“So let me get this straight. You are going to be going to see the romance movie The Princess Bride together. On Valentines day. As friends. Then you are going back to his apartment. Where you’ve planned on sharing his bed. As friends.”Nat asked.  You sat across from Nat on the long L shaped couch in the TV room. You were a little surprised with how well you had ended up getting along with all the Avengers since you got hired for the lab. Nat and Bucky especially were famously unfriendly to newbies and yet, you seemed to click with them faster than anyone. 

“Exactly. What's so hard to get about that?” You gave a shrug and sipped some more of your afternoon coffee.  She let out a groan and massaged her temples. 

“Are you dumb? Like has this whole brilliant scientist thing been like an Elizabeth Holmes scam? Geez Einstein, Bucky is head over heels for you and you spend all of your time thinking about smooching his stupid grumpy little face!” She cried and you winced. You only thought about smooching sometimes.

“His face isn’t stupid.” You muttered and Natasha rolled her eyes so hard you feared they may get stuck. “And he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Why would he ask you out to a movie? Then offer his place afterwards, if not because he’s totally into you!” 

“I asked him if he meant as friends then he said yes he meant as friends.” You cried back. She let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Honestly at this point, I think I may have to hang up my wing woman hat. Can’t get you a date, can’t get Steve a date, I’ve lost my touch.”  She groaned. 

“Doesn’t Steve have someone he’s seeing?” You asked. 

“Uh absolutely not. No way he could keep that from me. Unless you have some intel I don’t know about.”

“He was asking me all these questions a few weeks ago. About getting a girl flowers to show you’re interested in her.” You explained. Why would he bring that up if not for the girl he’s dating? She nodded along knowingly. 

“Quick question, was Bucky also there by chance?” She asked, her wry smirk returning to her face. 

“Yeah he was…how did you know that?”

“And was this before or after Bucky showed up with flowers for ‘the lab’ ?” She asked using finger quotes around the lab. The gears in your head usually reserved for science and math started to turn. “Please, I’m begging you. Use that big powerful brain that’s supposedly between your ears.” 

You trusted Nat, she was much better at reading people than you were. Could she be right? You hoped she was right. 

X

You had changed into your flowy blue dress, you had always thought it looked a bit like Princess Buttercup's wedding dress with its long sleeves and high cinched waist. You took your hair out of its usual ponytail and let it tumble down your shoulders. This was a date. You told yourself. This was a date, Bucky was taking you out on a date. 

It didn’t seem real. How could it be? You had crushes all the time but they never actually liked you back, that just wasn’t how life worked out. But Natasha could read people like no one you’d ever known before. Could she be wrong?

Bucky showed up at the lab door, lightly knocking on the door frame as he let himself in. He was wearing a black dress shirt with black dress pants. The black on black was his usual MO but god did he look so handsome in it. He had stayed his hair a bit too, you could see the gel he had combed in to keep it neat. 

“Hey are you ready for the mo-” you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. The two of you stayed frozen for a minute neither sure what to do. 

He pulled you away looking confused. Oh fuck I just sexually harrassed an avenger oh god I’m fired, I’m dead, Bucky is never going to speak to me again!

“What are you doing?” He whispered, his hands on your shoulders keeping you at a distance. 

“I’m so sorry! God I knew Nat was wrong, I’m sorry I’m sorry, I just thought that maybe…god I’m so dumb.” You started to blubber, humiliated. You wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Hey, hey slow down. Now I’m really mixed up here, you said we should go as friends and now you’re kissing me. Can you just tell me what’s going on?” He asked, his voice very measured, his face unreadable. 

You took a deep breath. 

“I like you. I like you a lot. And I always thought that…there’s no way you liked me back. I wished the flowers you brought to the lab were for me but of course they weren’t and I hoped we were going to the movie as a date but of course we aren’t. Nat said she thought you liked me back but I should have never listened to her. I’m sorry.” You covered your face and turned away. You couldn't believe you’d messed this up so bad. 

“You keep apologizing but I’m not exactly complaining here.”  He said his voice low. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to let you know, but every time I tried  it didn’t seem like you were interested in me!” He cried out. You just blinked at him, dumbfounded. 

“Why would you be into me, you're like the savior of the galaxy and I’m a nerd who practically lives in her lab.”

“Why would you be into me, you're a beautiful brilliant scientist  and I'm just some grumpy dope that’s also a  pardoned war criminal?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again. Bye god this was the second time you kissed Bucky today! Only this time when your lips met he eagerly returned the kiss. His soft lips moving feverishly against yours. His hands went to your hips and you tried not to let out a gasp as he pulled you flush against his body.  

“Wait, wait, are we going to miss the movie?” He asked you with such genuine sincerity you wanted to scream. How was he so cute?

“We can catch it another time.”

X

The two of you, barely able to keep yourself off each other, somehow managed to get in an elevator, go up all the way to Bucky's floor and get into his apartment. All while still remaining lip locked in a daze. 

He was kissing you silly, you almost felt drunk. With a bit of a flourish he tossed you on to the bed (which was quite big, easily room for the two of you like he had said). 

“Uh Bucky, what are these for?” You held up the leather cuffs that were chained across the back of the bed. He frowned, suddenly panicking. 

“I was going to move those, I’m sorry you had to see that. I just, I get nightmares sometimes and it um, it helps to chain myself to the bed so I don't um hurt myself. I’m on meds now and I never need to use them anymore.” He was rambling, quickly trying to sooth the situation. 

“Oh.”

“Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I know I’m a whole lot of baggage on top of baggage. I really am totally fine sleeping on the floor if that makes you feel safer or--”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re the smartest woman I know. ” He insisted. He sat back down on the bed. He took you in his arms. You pecked him lightly on his lips.

“I just…I thought maybe these were going to be for me.” You fluttered your eyelashes as

Bucky's eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat.

“They can be. They absolutely can be.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider #bucky barns x you #bucky x female reader #navy and roo's sleepover #i spy challenge #marvel fanfic #fluff #friday night posting baby

[cryptidghostgirl]

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel one shot #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin adam x reader #adam hazbin #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel x reader #requested #request one shot

[inklore]

Laur I see we’re talking Aemond and I need to join bc asdfghjkl that man had two minutes of screen time in the latest episode and he has me in chokehold already

like I’d push down my leo pride for him, let him degrade me, idec anymore

I just know he’s so thorough when it comes to fucking you, like deep and hard and with purpose, like that man fucks with his entire being ya know, I just, I need him I need him bad

asdfghjkl um yeah anyways hi ily and I hope you’re doing well🫣

pairing: king!aemond targaryen x queen!reader

warnings: eighteen+ content, p in v, deep penetration, porn with feelings, biting, scratching, everything is really brief.

etc: told myself i wouldn’t care nor did i care about this man and yet here i am thirsting over him like a fool lmaosks. i’m glad i’m not the only one thoughhh! ily and i’m suffering from this damn show but i hope you’re good bby <3

You’re his Queen and deserved to be treated—and fucked—as such. He likes when both of you are taking enjoyment in the part, it’s not just something he takes from you. It’s a pleasure you both receive, feel, love.

The time he takes to make sure you’re wrapping your arms around him to pull him to your chest, tightening your legs around his hips pushing your pelvis up into his so his cock runs over your wet cunt as you ask him nicely. Beg so sweet because you want him, not because he has to force it out of you.

You really want him.

As much as he does you.

Your body sings and trembles and reaches out for him. Your cunt taking him in perfectly, the stretch around his cock making you both sigh in relief. Feel almost high on him finally sliding home. From the push and pull of his hips as he encases you with his arms, as his mouth bruises yours with his—everything he takes he gives back.

Every hard thrust met with your nails digging into his shoulders; pain for pain.

Every dirty word spilling from his lips met with an agonizing cry for more from your lungs; ache for ache.

Every bite and hard press of his mouth met with your teeth in his bottom lip; mark for mark.

The only power he holds over you is in status, throne, name. A name you now share with him, a name you wear, bare with honor and grace. A name you’re proud to have and he’s happy to give.

Any other power is held in the mix of your shared breaths, moans, fingers intertwined—plans to rule, take, and claim side by side.

You don’t shy away and he doesn’t cower from you knowing all. Seeing all. Seeing him for who he truly is.

With your leg in the crook of his arm, bent just enough to have him going deeper into you, the slow methodical roll of his hips, the deep grunts against your tongue as you mewl and cry and he swallows it down—he fucks you until neither of you can breathe unless it’s from the others mouth. Your insides sore and raw and perfectly tender.

“Does my queen want another?” He asks when he’s made you come for the third time, the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth nothing if not promising. For he’d give his Queen anything, she need only ask.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fic

[prettymindset111]

you are limitless , you can manifest anything

when it comes to LOA you can have whatever you want literally WHATEVER you are completely limitless as everything literally EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE’s existence is because of you , you are the cause you are the creator of this world .

“If you can conceptualize it, it must exist. These are so minute in detail that we will never truly question the nature of our reality. It is best to view this reality almost like a frame by frame video. However, Consciousness does not have to be the watcher of this video, but can stop the frame and redirect the video to where Man sees fit. Since there are infinite Versions of yourself, being Specific on how you want to be is achievable. Take where you are now. Maybe you are 18 years old, maybe 48, it does not matter. Go back one year and realize that one year ago, the Version you are now, existed when you were 17 or 47 years old. Did you not have the freedom to be a different version? If so, do you not have that same freedom now? “ - edward art

Man can bring things into existence through his thoughts and consciousness .

Consciousness has the power to resurrect or bring things into existence . nothing exists without your consciousness or imagination

This truth is common to all men, but the consciousness of it – and much more, the self-consciousness of it – is another matter. The day I realized this great truth – that everything in my world is a manifestation of the mental activity which goes on within me, and that the conditions and circumstances of my life only reflect the state of consciousness with which I am fused – is the most momentous in my life.

you are always going to be greater than anything that is expressed in your reality be it good or bad because ofc ? like you created it and the creator is always greater than it’s creations .

“ The power conceiving and the thing conceived are one but the power to conceive is greater than the conception. Jesus discovered this glorious truth when he declared, "I and my Father are one but my Father is greater than I." The power conceiving itself to be man is greater than its conception. All conceptions are limitations of the conceiver. Consciousness precedes all manifestations and is the prop upon which all manifestation rests. To remove the manifestations all that is required of you, the conceiver, is to take your attention away from the conception. Instead of "Out of sight out of mind," it really is "Out of mind out of sight." The manifestation will remain in sight only as long as it takes the force with which the conceiver — I AM — originally endowed it to spend itself. This applies to all creation from the infinitesimally small electron to the infinitely great universe. Be still and know that I AM God. Yes, this very I AM, your awareness of being, is God, the only God. I AM is the Lord— the God of all Flesh— all manifestation. This presence, your unconditioned awareness, comprehends neither beginning nor ending; limitations exist only in the manifestation. When you realize that this awareness is your eternal self you will know that before Abraham was, I AM.“

“ Only through one door can that which you seek pass into the world of manifestation. I AM the door. Your consciousness is the door, so you must become conscious of being and having that which you desire to be and to have. Any attempt to realize your desires in ways other than through the door of consciousness makes you a thief and a robber unto yourself. Any expression that is not felt is unnatural. Before anything appears, God, I AM, feels itself to be the thing desired; and then the thing felt appears. It is resurrected, lifted out of the nothingness. “

“ I AM wealthy, poor, healthy, sick, free, confined were first of all impressions or conditions felt before they became visible expressions. Your world is your consciousness objectified. Waste no time trying to change the outside; change the within or the impression; and the without or expression will take care of itself. When the truth of this statement dawns upon you, you will know that you have found the lost word or the key to every door. I AM (your consciousness) is the magical lost word which was made flesh in the likeness of that which you are conscious of being “

bibical analogy :

“ Your unconditioned awareness or I AM is the Virgin Mary who knew not a man and yet, unaided by man, conceived and bore a son, Mary, the unconditioned consciousness, desired and then became conscious of being the conditioned state which she desired to express, and in a way unknown to others became it. Go and do likewise; assume the consciousness of that which you desire to be and you, too, will give birth to your savior. When the annunciation is made, when the urge or desire is upon you, believe it to be God's spoken word seeking embodiment through you. Go, tell no man of this holy thing that you have conceived. Lock your secret within you and magnify the Lord, magnify or believe your desire to be your savior coming to be with you. “

"A man can receive nothing (no thing) except it be given him from Heaven." Remember heaven is your consciousness; the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. This is why you are warned against calling any man Father; your consciousness is the Father of all that you are. Again you are told, "Salute no man on the highway." See no man as an authority. Why should you ask man for permission to express when you realize that your world, in its every detail, originated within you and is sustained by you as the only conceptional center? “

- neville , your faith is your fortune

#law of assumption #manifesting #manifestation #edward art #loa blog #neville goddard

[steddiealltheway]

I’ve written something like this before but eh let’s write another.

Dustin manages to convince Eddie and Steve to accompany him while he uses Cerebro to talk to Suzie. It only takes convincing one of them to know that the other will join because Eddie and Steve have been inseparable since Hawkins was almost destroyed. They say it’s because they’re bonded with their matching bat scars, but really they just enjoy each other’s company.

And thank god they do because being around Dustin when he’s talking to Suzie is absolutely insufferable. Eddie tries to come up with nicknames that are worse than Dustin’s while Steve comes up with terrible pick up lines. By the end of the conversation, Steve and Eddie are outright cringing and complaining about love.

Dustin says goodbye to Suzie and starts packing up which cues Steve saying, “Henderson, never let me witness that again.”

Dustin scoffs, “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

Eddie and Steve exchange incredulous looks, and then Eddie dramatically drops to his knee and announces to Steve, “Oh, my sweet apple pie, my affections will forever be yours.”

Steve laughs and wonders why he’s feeling warmer than before. Must be the heat or something. He continues the bit and grabs Eddie’s hands. “How have I ever lived without you, my love?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel a bit overwhelmed with some type of feeling. He’s not entirely sure what it is, but it’s making his heart race. He takes Steve’s hands and plants a slow kiss on the left. “I will never know.” He plants a kiss on the right. “But I swear that you’ll never have to know again.”

Steve’s hands let go of Eddie’s to cup his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies easily.

Steve and Eddie freeze. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Both their heads spin as they finally put a label on what they’ve been feeling for weeks now. The reason they never want to leave each other’s sight. The late night phone calls where they joke about being away from each other for too long - knowing that they had just hung out minutes earlier. The sleepovers where Steve has held Eddie or vice versa depending on whose nightmares are worse that night…

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” Dustin whines. Steve and Eddie break apart quickly remembering where they are and why they’ve said what they said.

“Come on, it’s getting close to your curfew,” Steve says, mind reeling with his realization.

Dustin goes on a rant about something he and Suzie were talking about, but neither Steve nor Eddie truly catch everything he’s saying. They’re too caught up in their heads trying to keep a respectable distance from each other while realizing how often they’re in each other’s personal space: all the time.

By the time they get to Steve’s car, Dustin has started a new rant, and thank goodness for how much that kid can talk so Steve and Eddie don’t have to. But the drive to Dustin’s is quicker than it needs to be because suddenly Steve and Eddie are alone together and simultaneously freaking out.

“So,” Steve says breaking the silence.

“So…” Eddie responds, fingers rapidly tapping where they rest on his leg.

“Dustin and Suzie are just…”

“Absolutely disgustingly in love?” Eddie offers.

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

In love. The boys start freaking out a little more.

“I wonder what that’s like,” Eddie says, voice a bit higher than usual.

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve replies quickly, hoping Eddie doesn’t hear how false that statement is even to his own ears.

Eddie just nods, stuck so deep in his own thoughts he can’t even register Steve manically twirling his sunglasses around while driving. Steve stops it as soon as he realizes he’s doing his nervous tick.

When the trailer park gets in sight, Steve takes a deep breath then asks, “What if I did know?”

Eddie glances over at him with a questioning look. Steve elaborates, “Know what it’s like to be disgustingly in love.”

Eddie’s fingers freeze as he finally looks at Steve who parks in front of Eddie’s trailer. He nervously licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at Eddie. There’s absolutely no way. No way at all. But Eddie replies, “I think I know, too.”

Steve breaks out into a wide smile and leans across the car. “You’re talking about me right?” He asks as his nose brushes against Eddie’s.

“Yes,” Eddie says against his lips before they both surge forward into a kiss.

Later, they both agree to never let Dustin know that he’s the reason they realized their feelings for each other because that kid would never let it go. (Of course, he still manages to say that he’s the reason the two of them met and therefore the reason they got together, but Eddie and Steve will forever argue that it was their matching bat scars just to keep Dustin angry.)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #dustin henderson #dustin’s dads

[hades-in-bloom]

Quit | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

content: assumed older Leon, assumed age gap, golden retriever boyfriend with attitude, mentions of PTSD and light panic attacks, mentions of death, gn!reader, no mentions of y/n

author’s note: this man should be protected at all costs, you can’t tell me otherwise. might proofread later. as always, proceed at your own risk.

word count: still a drabble.

xoxo

***

He falls apart one day when you least expect him to, in the middle of the coffee shop, and you rush from your table towards the counter, where Leon juggles the change. His hands are shackled with heavy tremor. You don’t know what triggered him, but you know this frantic look that he has after particularly bad assignments. He doesn’t talk though, neither to you nor to the therapist assigned by the DSO. Appreciative of the mental health support offered by the agency, you hate his job with fiery passion.

You pull him to the side, helping out with putting the change back to his wallet. His breathing is ragged, and he clings to your palm, squeezing it in his own nice and tight. You thank the higher power that your favourite coffee corner is quite empty at this hour of the day. You couldn’t care less of what the staff would think of you.

You slide your free hand under his thick jacket and onto his heart in a desperate attempt to calm him down. It pains you to see him this way. Especially when he can’t stand feeling powerless and in need of assistance himself. Years of flying solo made him annoyingly self-sufficient.

He needs a minute, but then nods at you in reassurance, when barista calls out your order. You are spending precious seconds picking up two americanos before dragging Leon outside. He grabs onto the paper cup like his life depends on it, and makes a sip despite your attempts of preventing him from consuming caffeine. You don’t think it’s a good idea, taking his condition into account, but he doesn’t listen.

“You have to talk to me, Kennedy,” you sound a bit grumpy, but only because you worry about him. You plead openly. “Please, Leon.”

He scoffs bitterly into the hot beverage and takes his time before meeting your gaze with his own. His sudden panic attack seems to bridle by that point.

“I wish I could,” he assures. “It’s not that simple”.

You resent his excuses now more than ever. You do your best when trying to keep yourself together, and you spend some time walking in silence before reaching one of the benches in the park. New York is in its full glory this time of the year.

“Quit,” you say suddenly after placing yourself at the wooden bench with sights of the dated graffiti here and there. You let your stubbornness take over you, when you press on. “Why can’t you quit?”

The horrors that he has seen were unimaginable. It’s not even a figure a speech at this point. You can't imagine it as you have no idea what he does, but you don’t like how size of his paycheque seems to correlate with the level of danger that his job poses.

“I help people,” he replies quickly, and, although you want to, you can’t feel proud of him right now. He means a world to you, but sometimes you don’t know if he truly thinks the same about you. You know it’s your anger talking.

“After all these years you should have helped enough, shouldn't you?” You are harsh and impatient, and he eyes you with caution and sudden curiosity as he doesn’t see you this way before – righteously furious. Leon doesn’t know what to do with you, when he’s generally very good at thinking on his feet.

You both drink your coffee in heavy silence for a bit, listening to the chatter in the park; someone is playing a violin with their melody being too tragic to your liking.

He sighs loudly, visibly irritated, first. He doesn’t like it when two of you fight.

“What would I even do, if I quit?” His question makes you raise your brows. You don’t believe that he entertains a thought of quitting his job, but you appreciate the effort. Although you wouldn’t mind staying mad at him a tad longer.

“Marry me,” you say right away, without thinking too much. Leon can bet that you took choosing your coffee this morning more seriously, but you don’t backtrack. Sly smile is appearing on your lips, and you regret for a moment that you are in public. “I will make sure that you are busy.”

Leon is lost for words for a moment before he catches himself grinning despite his best attempts not to.

“Savage,” he calls you out mercilessly. Despite your conversation bearing a certain degree of absurdity, you definitely like him better now than moments before, when he was gasping for air back in the coffee shop.

Despite your playful mood, you don’t let him off the hook easily.

“You can’t die on me, Kennedy,” you have already accompanied him to way too many funerals to draw your own conclusions. “You better believe me, when I say that I’ll haunt you in the afterlife, if you do.”

Leon finishes his coffee at that time and throws out the paper cup before taking a place next to you at the bench. His look giving you sudden chills.

“They say in the vows, ‘till death do us part. Should we think of changing it for our ceremony?”

It takes you a never-ending second to realise what he did, and then it hits you. You can’t help it but stare at him in disbelief when he clearly enjoys the effect of his own words.

“You are unbelievable,” you conclude with conviction. This bastard just shrugs it off.

“That wasn’t me who started it, sweetheart.”

You want to slap him, but he kisses you instead, and you forget about the rest of the world for a bit. You lean into him, and the violin sounds in the distance do not seem that tragic to you anymore.

Related:

#leon drabble #leon s. kennedy #vendetta leon kennedy #infinite darkness #death island leon kennedy #death island #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #older leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon fluff #re4 remake #leon kennedy

[gavvaiins]

lonely

summary: having to carry the future of multiple universes on his shoulders miguel simply is tired, tired and lonely.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader warnings: angst, pinch of fluff, less actions, more vibes; story's gender neutral but i feel it might be too female-coded? idk ; - ; word count: 3.7k

a/n: yeah ... this is longer than it needs to be. Might got confused by grammar later ... idk while writing i fell into a narrating-style crisis? It definetly doesn't help when the book you're reading is written is a different tense.

Sometimes all Miguel wished for was some time alone. In a building full of arachno-humanoids, constantly surrounded by either living people, holograms or other species there was sometimes not enough room to breathe. So, nothing reprehensible about wanting some time for himself.

However, Miguel wasn’t longing to be alone.

He didn’t need to.

He already was.

Despite being surrounded by dozens of spider-beings he was alone. He had no friends. Jess was a colleague, Peter Parker was a dear colleague, the best – and what was even Peter B. Parker? Honestly, Miguel didn’t know, but despite all these different Spider-People there was no one waiting for him. Not even in Nueva York, a city with far more citizens than anyone could count.

No one was waiting for him to come home – or to simply arrive, anywhere.

Lyla was nothing but an AI generated hologram, he created.

There was no one waiting for him.

And that was good. No one waiting for him meant safety; for him and for him. Without anyone there waiting for him to return home he could neither hurt nor lose someone. Miguel noticed that it wasn’t loneliness he was longing for, after all he was pretty much alone in his world, carrying the burden all by himself. Having time to breathe, to think that was what he was longing for. A moment without Lyla and the other arachno-humanoids, without having to think about anomalies and the downfall of universes.

All he wanted was peace.

“Miguel?” His body grew tense as your voice emerged from the dark, careful and soft, almost fearful as if you were entering a cave, unsure of what you’d meet in there. There was a chance that you hadn't spotted him yet, sitting on his lowered platform all by himself. Within moments he heard your voice he began holding his breath. If he didn’t make a sound, you wouldn’t catch him, which was a dumb and childish thought considering the lighting of the running monitors, which illuminated his big frame quite perfectly.

What were you even doing here? There was no need for you talking to him.

“Miguel?” You asked. He could sense the hesitation in your voice, it reminded him of the heroes in fairy tales, both brave and stupid enough to enter the dark woods full of beastly and hungry creatures. When Miguel thought about it, his room was a bit like a forest – or more a cave, dark and mysterious. To his surprise the light tremor in your voice didn’t stop you from further exploring the room. If this was truly a fairytale, you’d either be very brave or stupid, or both. Whatever it was Miguel would’ve eaten you alive.

But this wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t the big, bad wolf, ready and hungry enough to devour you. But why didn’t you stop?

Why were you still going?

He was the Spider-Man who hoped not to be found by anyone, especially not you.

With every passing second Miguel’s body grew more, and more tense, his lungs felt strained, knowing very well that with every step you took, you were closer to seeing him. He knew that it would’ve been smarter to swing away, to simply vanish in the dark. But he couldn’t move. Something in him didn’t want to flee, despite his longing for peace and serenity. He was like a spider trapped in its own web, paralyzed by his own poison.

Maybe he longed for you to find him.

“Miguel.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper, not entirely fearful but caring as well. Yet, Miguel kept using the tactics of a child. Stoic and stiff did he keep his posture, eyes on the ground, head buried in his arms; if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either. Rather he avoided your eyes, your whole presence like the plague.

How did he, Spider-Man 2099, guardian of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse and destroyer of a whole universe, look like? A mountain of a man hunched on his sunken platform, hiding his face like a fearful child, who didn’t know where to put its overwhelming feelings. He used to be an authority, always standing high on his platform, towering over and looking down on you. But now it was you who looked down on him, a pile of misery in blue and red barely illuminated by flickering screens.

“Oh, Miguel.” He could sense your presence beside him, he could sense everything of you – your pity and empathy was almost sickening. Your body was awfully close but kept a minimal distance of respect, and to his own surprise Miguel felt his tense muscles relax.

Finally, he found himself able to breathe again.

For a moment you said nothing, no Miguel, no how are you. No words left his lips either. You two sat in silence and Miguel enjoyed it, a little – sitting with you in the dark, just the two of you and he hated to admit it, but he began missing his name rolling off your tongue. His name sounded so soft and caring, like he meant something, like he was someone others cared for.

Someone you cared for.

And something inside of him longed hearing you say his name, again, and again.

To his own surprise he needed it, and he surprised himself by how desperately he needed to hear his name coming from you.

“Miguel?” Ah, there it was. Finally. It was embarrassing admit how Miguel’s heart enjoyed it deeply, hearing his name rolling of your tongue. It felt like warm milk mixed with honey running down his throat, filling his body with warmth and a feeling of serenity, of home. Despite his inner positive response to your presence he didn’t move, nor did he speak. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Feeling your knee nudge his thigh, his body grew tense again. The touch was subtle, yet it alarmed all his senses, as if your touch could hurt him. Couldn’t you just continue gently serenading his name, like a sweet lullaby he could relax and fall asleep to? Miguel didn’t need to talk with you about his feelings. He didn’t want to.

“Doesn’t – “

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, words swallowed by the void underneath his arms.

“– look like nothing,” you said. No answer, and for a moment you grew quiet. He had no idea what you were doing but he could hear you shifting in your seat beside him. Were you finally leaving?

No.

He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? Yes … that’s what he wanted.

But you weren’t leaving, he knew it when he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder. His muscles jumped slightly under your touch as if your fingers were ice cold or burning hot. They weren’t. Your touch was light, careful, like a butterfly dancing on his skin. First came your fingers, gracing his scapula as if you were testing the waters, then rested your palm on his shoulder and despite the highly advanced suit he was wearing, it felt like his skin was burning – a malfunction, an electric shock.

His heart jumped.

It was too much.

“I said, leave me alone!” Forceful, almost feral, he slapped your hand away. Risen to his full dominating size Miguel was panting heavily, fangs bared, talons shown and eyes gleaming of anger … and hurt, and loneliness, confusion. He looked like a beast, tall and furious, ready to strike or devour you.

“Miguel.” He tried not to flinch. He hated the sound of your voice; it didn’t feel soothing anymore. Instead, it was laced with fear, but mostly hurt. But what was he expecting? Miguel had scared you; he had hurt you.

Good.

Lyla would scold him for being an ass. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he needed to, and if that’s what’s needed to leave him be, he’d endure it … and he would do it again, if he needed to. Despite his body telling him differently, he neither needed you nor your pity.

His initial thought was that his plan was working. The big, bad Spider-Man was indeed an asshole, who made you cry for no reason. Never would you talk or even look at him again, which he told himself was fine. But you weren’t crying. Sure, you were holding your arm protectively close to your body as if his talons had teared through your suit, making you bleed. But no sign of tears rimming your eyes, plus, you weren’t leaving.

You were still here.

“What the fuck?”

Why wasn’t it working? “I told you to leave me.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still there?” With satisfaction he watched you thinking of a good response, gears turning in your head, to no avail. Your mouth opened slightly before pressing it shut, eyes lowering to your hands folded in your lap. That was it; without anything to retort you surely would leave him.

Again, the two of you sat in complete silence. One he didn’t enjoy, but need, and surely neither did you. However, he was sure that you’d given up, any second, and leave him alone. “Is that really what you want?”

He looked at you, blinking.

“Is it really what you want?” You repeated, staring into his dark eyes and there is something in yours that scared him. Miguel couldn’t tell what it was, there was no poison in your eyes, no malice, yet he was afraid. “Do you really wish to be alone?”

You scared him, and that’s nothing anyone would ever associate with you. He hated to admit it, but he was, not of your physical strength or arachno-powers. Surely, he could easily knock you out. Rather he was afraid that you’d find something you weren’t supposed to see.

Miguel hesitated. “Yes.”

“I have to.” It just slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak his mind, even if it was just a bit. You weren’t supposed to know. But now you knew something that was meant to stay hidden, that was meant only for himself. A burden he had meant to carry himself. There was no reason to hide, yet there was no reason to face you either, so Miguel did what he could best, being alone. With a heavy sigh he crept back into the shell he so shamefully had lost. This time Miguel didn’t burry himself beneath his arms, instead he stared in the darkness of his office, waiting for you to leave. By that time, he should’ve known that you wouldn’t leave him.

Not like that.

“Oh, Miguel.” Again, his name was nothing but a soft whisper, comforting. There lied some sadness behind his name, yet it was all he had wished for moments ago, before he lashed out at you. “You are not alone. We’re all Spider-Man.”

Some incomprehensible grumble left his lips, how should he explain? It wasn’t your fight, neither was it Peter Parker’s, only his. “It was me.”

“I’ve done this,” he said before you could even think of calling him again.

“I –“ Miguel’s breath hitched and for a second his heart stopped beating, stumbling over its own rhythm as he felt your fingers dancing on his skin again.

How dare you?

He wanted to bare his teeth at you, again, he wanted to scare you, to push you away from him, but he couldn’t. His mind told him to, like he used to do whit so many people before. You knew too much about him. But his heart, his body, craved for the softness of your voice, longed for the warmth of your heart. Carefully your fingers grazed his skin, almost waiting for some sign of permission until they could finally rest on his cheeks. Despite wearing your spider-suit your hand felt surprisingly soft on his skin.

With a sigh he leaned into the comfort of your touch, until he remembered who he was and what he did. His head shot up like your hand was hurting him but before he could utter any more words of misery you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at you.

“You’ve done what? Jumping through the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse.” Your voice was calm and gentle, as was your smile. He could barely look at you. “That is quite a complicated name, maybe you should think about calling it spider-verse instead.”

Miguel meant to smile at your joke, even if only subtle, a ghost of a smile only you’d be able to detect and in any other situation he would. But he couldn’t. Not now, when he’d say something so gruesome that would paint him in a different light. However, the truth didn’t want to roll over his tongue, revealing who he really was, not when you so gently smiled at him, caressing his skin with your fingers. Heaving a sigh, he let go, and melted into your touch like warm butter. Was it good to let his guard down? Probably not. Neither was it professional to lean into your touch, almost gracing your clothed wrist with his lips. It wasn’t good but it felt good, the softness of your touch, the warmth seeking through your spider-gloves. If you’d allow it, he will fall asleep right here in your arms.

It was impossible for him to resist.

If only Lyla could see him now … big, bad wolf turned into a puppy.

However, he was left dumbfounded when he found himself stripped of your touch, even more so, when he found himself disliking the sudden coldness. Wanting to know what went wrong Miguel starred at you but nothing seemed to have changed. You still looked at him with the same fondness and empathy in your eyes, the only difference was that you’re patting your lap. His eyes followed your directions, and he grew hesitant.

“May I?” It should’ve been Miguel asking and not you. Though, resting on your thighs was a nice, almost heavenly thought but he shouldn’t enjoy your comfort too much. “Miguel, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s okay.” He declined.

“C’mon Miguel, it’s comfortable I promise,” you smiled, but he didn’t move. Surely it must be more comfortable than hanging in your hands, but Miguel couldn’t let himself fall on your lap. Already he was enjoying the tenderness of your fingers too much, what would happen if he rested on your thighs? Would he melt into them like he did with your hands? The though was nice but he resisted, not for long though. Tugging, basically dragging him by his arms, you somehow managed to pull his heavy body down on your lap. Carefully he shifted his weight, so only his head and upper body were lying on you. He didn’t want to crush you. However, the feeling that spread through his body as he rested on your thighs was both nice, comfortable and weird. Overall, it was a weird sensation and he’d found himself in a situation he’d never dreamed about before.

“May I?” Miguel had no idea what you were up to, yet he agreed with a hum. His eyes fell close and he hummed again, when he felt your fingers carefully dancing over his body, moving from his shoulder to his hair. It wasn’t the same when you held him in your hands, fingers holding him and caressing his cheeks. It felt different but good, relaxing your hands running through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. And sometimes he could feel the ghost of your fingertips brushing over his face.

He didn’t know how long you stayed in this position, sitting in silence, him resting on your lap and you caressing him like a pet. Miguel couldn’t remember the last time somebody did this for him or when his muscles felt so relaxed. Again, if you’d allow it, he’ll fall asleep right here by your side. But then he remembered what you asked him a long time ago.

“I killed them.” Miguel’s voice was surprisingly calm, even to him. Neither knowing what he meant nor how to answer this, you remained silent. But he could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it … not after confessing murder. Yet, he explained, “I killed them all, billions of people, my – his daughter Gabriella, all because I was selfish. – Gabby died because I was foolish to believe that my actions wouldn’t have any consequences.”

His confession shocked you; he could hear it in the change of your breathing and the stillness of your hands, and something in him died. Shocked by his confession you surely would leave. Push him off you like something disgusting. Maybe you would never talk to him again, unless it was necessary, and the thought scared him. His mind had told him to push you away. It was best to handle it all by himself, it was what he always did. But the stupidity people called the heart had won and now the thought of you leaving scared him.

“Tell me what happened.” Your voice was calm, not scared, not soft, just calm. It wasn’t the reaction Miguel had imagined, especially not when your fingers continued to play with his hair. You weren’t even disgusted by him. What kind of person were you to not leave him? “Tell me what happened.”

And he did. Miguel told you everything. How he took the role of a dead man, living his life and raising his daughter. He made it clear that he thought of his actions as selfish and stupid, because he erased a whole universe and with that Gabriella’s future. Never would he forget the fear in her eyes, how she clung to him, looking for safety, calling for her dad – for him, not knowing her real dad has died – until she disappeared as well.

Telling his nightmare was awful, remembering the horrors of his action never got any less painful. But sharing it with you felt surprisingly relieving. It wasn’t like he was healed from his pain but telling you about it made it a little more bearable. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

How should he answer? Thank you? Moments ago, Miguel would’ve grumbled at the pitiful – no, empathic, he’d learned that much by now – tone in your voice but now he liked it, just as he enjoyed you calling him by his name. Miguel didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t think you killed them, Miguel,” you said after an eternity, never stopping playing with his brown strands. Careful he shifted his weight to look at you. Even with one eye lazily opened, he decided that he liked looking at you, watching how you react to him. “Then, who did?”

Wringing with the words on your tongue you hesitated. “I don’t know.”

In normal circumstances Miguel would be grim, and scoff at your naïve words, claiming to be the villain of his story. The selfish murderer of Gabriella O’Hara. However, now he felt rather tame and tired. It’s enough for him. So, he only hummed, closing his eye to revel in the fondness of your touch.

“But you can’t know either.” He looked at you again. He had to correct you, he knew, it was obvious, really. But before an answer could roll over his tongue you were quick to intervene. “I know what you’re going to say, Miguel. You’ve seen it and to you it makes sense, but listen – I … how does anything make any sense? Multiple universes, anomalies, canon events … we shouldn’t even be here, Miguel. I shouldn’t, none of us. But here we are.”

There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, faint yet he heard and didn’t like it. Miguel knew you’d meant to comfort him but, in the end, you’d realized, that nothing of this should’ve happened. You should’ve never met the friends you made in the spider society, never should’ve met him and never found him dark, and lonely in his room. Almost instinctively his hand reached out to you, gently cupping your face. Now it was his turn to comfort you, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Unsure if he should draw small circles with his thumb, like he wanted to, or caress like you used to do, he just held you. “Don’t. – The multiverse is mine to preserve.”

“Oh, Miguel.” A soft, but sad smile graced your lips as you laid your hand over his, unwilling to let him go. “It’s not yours, either.”

“But it was my fault, not yours. Don’t worry about something I’ve done.”

You sighed. “Miguel, you shouldn’t carry this burden alone, we’re all Spider-Man. It’s not your duty alone to save the multiverse, you can’t do this alone. I – I think what I’m saying is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You might think that you’ve to do all by yourself but that’s not the truth, we help you, all of us. We will carry that burden with you, I will.”

Truly it was sweet how caring you were, none of you could – and should – carry the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse on your shoulders. It was his job to preserve one less universe from being destroyed. It was his shoulders who had to carry the burden of it all, not yours. None of you should ever have to worry about the stability of your universe. But there was something burning in your eyes as you spoke, something Miguel enjoyed watching. So instead of objecting and lecturing you about the truth he heaved a hefty sigh and closed his eyes, making himself comfortable in your lap. It takes some time until you picked up where you left playing with his hair, gently scratching his skin here and there.

It's quiet as you ran your fingers through his hair, he doesn’t even move. You weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. But you swore you heard a hum, a content sound vibrating through his big body. However, when you try to check on him there’s nothing, no sound, no movement, not even a smile. Miguel simply looked like he’s asleep, stoic and grim – just like when he’s awake. It’s a silly though, him always looking serious no matter if he’s asleep or wake, it made you smile. However, in rare moments, when you’re not looking at him, his lips curl into a grin.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #reader-insert #marvel #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 #x reader

[ao3cassandraic]

What does Aziraphale know and when does he know it? Part 3, The Fiasco

Prologue, Part 1, and Part 2, for those who need them.

Let's play an incredibly clichéd game about acting: What's My Motivation?

When Aziraphale walks back into the bookshop after his chinwag with the Metatron, Crowley's motivation is singular and steel-strong: he wants to declare his love for Aziraphale and truly launch Our Side. That's it. That's all there is.

If only things were so clear for our poor angel. If we accept my prior analysis, at this point he's got several things he needs to do, all of them in the name of thwarting the Metatron's wiles:

Like Shax, inform Crowley that something -- something still unclear, but definitely something -- is going down in the up. Up up. (Beautiful bookending here. Beautiful.)

Beg for Crowley's help to...

Make a plan to deal with it. (And he's all out of plan-juice after the demon fight in the bookshop, poor angel.)

All this without letting the Metatron know that Aziraphale doesn't trust him, didn't buy his bullshit, doesn't want to accept his job offer but may have to accept to have any chance of thwarting him (or, you know, surviving), and thinks the whole business reeks to (you should excuse the expression) high Heaven. He has reason to think this feat can be pulled off, because he knows from the chinwag that the Metatron is neither infallible nor omniscient.

So yeah, I think there's some playwright or screenwriter slogan about characters who are talking to one another having completely different conversations at the same time? Totally what's happening here.

In a truly remarkable bit of dramatic irony, Crowley, who is usually a stickler for kayfabe, has utterly dropped it -- he's being gorgeously heart-on-his-sleeve sincere -- while Aziraphale, who is often slack about kayfabe, is playacting for the Metatron's benefit like their lives depend on it. This... doesn't help them get on the same page. (Litotes. Your key to quality meta.)

Let's see how that works out for them.

As Nina and Maggie leave after blowing Crowley's brain to smithereens, Aziraphale continues taking deep breaths to pull himself together, pasting on a smile for the ladies... and, as it turns out, for the Metatron watching from across the street.

He who hesitates is lost; the determined, singleminded Crowley starts in. Aziraphale tries non-verbally to stop him. That's what the hands-out pushing-down-and-away gesture is -- with a quick sidewise glance out the window toward the Metatron, no less. But Crowley will not be stopped, so Aziraphale has to use his words -- "hold that thought."

Not "no." Not "I'm talking blithely over you for no reason." Just "not now, please, I need help." And again, I can't blame him. He does need help, urgently, because whatever bullshit the Metatron laid down about "take all the time you need," he's expecting an answer from Aziraphale (and it jolly well better be "yes" at that) and worse, he's not leaving the vicinity to wait for it.

So Aziraphale starts explaining the Metatron's offer, sounding rather forced and inarticulate. None of the bodily markers of true Aziraphalean joy are present. He's holding his torso straight and still, and his hands are not doing the shoulder-level wave of joy -- they're doing the aimless-gesture dance of anxious confusion.

He says, "The Metatron... you know, I don't think he's as bad a fellow -- well, I think I might have misjudged him."

When Aziraphale's happy, he tosses around words like "nice" and "kind" and "good." Did y'all hear any of those words? I didn't. I heard another covert call for help: I misjudged the Metatron, Crowley, he's not as bad as I thought -- he's so, so much worse! And he rather reasonably thinks Crowley will pick up on this because they've played a lot of rounds of the kayfabe clue-dropping improv game over the millennia, the last round not fifteen minutes ago.

Then Aziraphale recounts the chinwag. His words appear accurate (the cuts back and forth to the chinwag itself are pretty seamless), though again, we don't know what he might be leaving out.

Crowley is distracted from his purpose by the raised bribe. "He said what?!"

If I'm Aziraphale in this moment, with the Metatron all but physically dragging me back to Heaven, I would want Crowley with me there in the worst way! Going to Heaven together, rather than Aziraphale alone, might be the start of a plan capable of thwarting the Metatron! So I don't think Aziraphale's starry-eyed statement of the offer is about wanting to change Crowley (though the implication absolutely is there for us to pick up on and dislike). I don't think it's about keeping Crowley safe, either -- anyplace with the Metatron in it is categorically not safe. It's a "yes, actually, this might work! do you think it'll work? will you come with me and see?"

Aziraphale then puts on the unhappiest happy-news performance ever. No happy hands. No shoulder shimmies. His voice is in its highest, most anxious register. His smile is decidedly tense and kayfabe-y.

Over the next part of the fiasco, Aziraphale figures out that Crowley hasn't picked up the kayfabe phone; the angel's face visibly falls as he listens to Crowley rant. Crowley's taking all this seriously -- which is also reasonable; Crowley's being honest and Aziraphale, historically, mostly ignores kayfabe. And this is a problem, because Aziraphale still needs Crowley to locate a clue, still needs a plan, still needs help.

So Aziraphale calls back to the s1 bandstand: he starts telling the same old whoppers about good and evil and Heaven and Hell, whoppers so transparent to Crowley (and likely enough to fool the Metatron, what with his contempt for everyone ever) that Crowley must pick up on the kayfabe, mustn't he? Mustn't he?

But he doesn't. Crowley doesn't pick up on it. (Again, fair. He's had to put up with centuries of Aziraphalean unexamined self-righteousness.) He just says "Tell me you said no," with a strong undercurrent of "if you actually care for and value me, you bloody well said no."

And Aziraphale can't, because the Metatron is watching, explain that he didn't say no because the Metatron was not taking no for an answer, and because Aziraphale himself doesn't know what to do, which response will lead to a Metatron-thwarting. He's running out of kayfabe lines to say that will get Crowley back onside, and this desperation shows in his face and his two or three fruitless attempts to speak, before he finally says, sincerely to my ear, that he could make a difference.

Which is what he's trying to do! It's his motivation! He wants to make a difference by thwarting the fucking Metatron! Which may well mean going back to Heaven!

But this isn't the meaning that Crowley hears (and a lot of us missed it too, me included at first -- no shade, Gaiman and Sheen did a lights-out job of trick-with-the-truth with that line). Crowley hears that Aziraphale wants to go work with the Metatron to do Heaven's will, and he'll trample Crowley's very identity to do so. So Crowley, still singleminded, still determined, now as desperate as Aziraphale to be understood, finally forces himself as close as he can get to a declaration of love.

Watch Aziraphale as Crowley declares them a team, a group. He glances out toward the Metatron again. He looks anxious and unhappy, hardly the face of an angel whose long-time unacknowledged partner is finally acknowledging their partnership. This isn't what Aziraphale needs just then. Just then, Aziraphale needs Crowley's help, and he can't for the life of him figure out how to tell Crowley that without tipping off the Metatron to the kayfabe. He's failed at it how many times by now?

Then Crowley pulls a second bandstand: "we can just go off together." Aziraphale, as other meta-ists have noted, can't say yes to this any more than he did in s1. He's got a Metatron to thwart! So he shakes his head, and he begs Crowley to come with him, repeating that they can make a difference. That's sincere! He wants them to! But, to my ear, there's still a teensy bit of possible kayfabe in there, with "second-in-command." That just rings false.

"You can't leave this bookshop." "Oh, Crowley. Nothing lasts forever." Kayfabe, kayfabe, kayfabe -- Aziraphale is a guardian and an avowed and demonstrated preservationist. This line is for the Metatron to buy and Crowley to finally do a proper WTF about.

And Crowley WTFs, all right, but in the wrong way, putting on his shades and heading for the door. Now Aziraphale is truly desperate -- he tries to call Crowley back, and he tells another part of the truth: "I NEED YOU!" To help. To thwart the Metatron.

And yet another part of the truth, duly kayfabed, with the angel starting to be a bit irked at Crowley's stubborn misapprehension: "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." Namely, a chance to thwart the Metatron.

Crowley sure doesn't. He suuuuuuuuuuuure doesn't. He's still having a completely different conversation. Aziraphale gives up in exasperated despair: "then there's nothing more to say." And on his face at that moment: calculation and displeasure, because he still has a Metatron to thwart and it's looking like he'll have to do it alone.

Only Crowley has more to say, about the absence of nightingales and us-es. And Aziraphale's face is all are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Aziraphale still has a Metatron to thwart, and if Crowley won't help, the least he can do is get out of the way, as Aziraphale made him do in their earlier argument over helping Jimbriel.

He looks away, giving Crowley the chance to jump him, haul him in by the lapels, and kiss him. Because that's the conversation Crowley's been having all along.

If I'm Aziraphale in this moment, my brain is exploding in several directions. I have a Metatron to thwart. He's watching this drama from across the street. What is he thinking, and how do I deal with him now? I don't have Crowley's help to thwart him. With that in mind, do I accept or refuse the job offer? I have finally figured out the urgency of the conversation Crowley thought we were having. I'm so terribly sorry I didn't make any gestures toward that conversation, because -- Crowley is actually kissing me, there aren't enough WTFs in the entire history of the entire universe for this!

No wonder his hands are tentative. No wonder the camera doesn't let us see much of his face; the above is a lot to convey for even the mega-ultra-talented Master of Microexpressions Michael Sheen.

Aziraphale, shocked and irked and scared and brain-exploded and feeling new things, tries kayfabe (mixed with truth; he is direly irked at Crowley's obtuseness) one last time: "I forgive you." Surely this time Crowley's got to --

But no. Still no uptake. Crowley leaves. Fiasco complete.

Next post will be the last: The Aftermath. Plus some comment on this as, in my view, the most parsimonious and narratively accommodating read on the scene, ergo (again, in my view) the likeliest.

#gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #the fucking metatron #the final fifteen minutes #good omens meta #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

[pacificwaternymph]

Aaaaand everyone give it up for WASTED POTENTIAL

Season finale spoilers under the cut

Okay. I'll be honest. The finale was... not what I was hoping for.

I tried so hard to remain optimistic. I truly believed they could pull it all together and everything was going to have a satisfying conclusion. But I guess that's my fault. I set my expectations too high.

Is this about Tech? Primarily, yes. Yes it was. I am so disappointed. And you can make fun of me all you want but I genuinely believed, with all my heart, that CX-2 was Tech.

BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK ELSE WAS THERE SO MUCH EMPHASIS ON HIM

There was so much to suggest that CX-2 was somebody we knew. We spent so much time on him, suffered through so many completely unnecessary, in hindsight, close up shots and random pieces of episodes that focus on him, only for him to get javelined through the middle in the span of half a second.

It feels like the writers were just making fun of the viewers, at this point. Haha, can you believe they actually thought?

Yes, we did think! Did you?

Tech's death was so... unconvincing. They didn't even try. Not only was his life "cut short" in the midst of his character development, said death was caused by falling, without any other kind of injury, while we watch him disappear into the clouds. And then we see no body and only have his broken goggles as "evidence" of his death. What the hell else were we supposed to assume?

That's not even bringing up that Tech gets maybe three mentions all throughout the entire season. The show never touches on how the death of one of their squadmates, people they have known since birth, affects the batch. Not once do they ever say out loud that Tech is dead until the fucking finale.

This isn't just me reading too closely between the lines. This is genuinely bad writing. It's loading chekhov's gun and then refusing to shoot it.

Even if CX-2 wasn't Tech, or even somebody we knew, the way he is treated suggests that he was supposed to be important. He was supposed to be be relevant. And now, he's neither!

Furthermore, where fuck was everybody? Where was Rex with the reinforcements to storm the base? Where was Wolffe deciding he didn't want anything to do with the Empire anymore? Where was Cody? Where was Phee in all of this?

Where was Cid? So we're just... not going to get any kind of closure for that? She just betrays them and we never see her again? Even if they didn't redeem her, that feels like pretty damn bold move.

The Zillo beast does... barely anything. Really? It just breaks out and moves away from the biggest source of energy it will ever find after causing the slightest amount of property damage to two rooms, and storms off into the woods, and that's all we get? Seriously?

And then once we get to the time jump... Echo's gone. Again. Either still off with Rex, if he hasn't gone into hiding yet, or died off screen. Neither is a good nor satisfying ending for his character. But I guess shouldn't be surprised by that. When have the writers ever cared about Echo?

The biggest problem with the whole thing is that it didn't feel like a finale. It felt like a normal episode, just slightly longer. The Bad Batch returned to Pabu, because I guess there are no consequences from the Batch being discovered there before and the empire decided that they were just going to... leave it alone, and everything returns to the status quo. That's not what a finale does, Dave.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. There were parts that I enjoyed. I'm glad Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair got their happy endings. Seeing Omega all grown up really did something to my heart. But overall I am just so frustrated.

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #rant post #tbb spoilers #arc trooper echo #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #clone force 99 #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb cid #tbb phee #phee genoa #captain rex #tbb rex