#my brain the girlies in there are connecting the dots | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zeroducks-2 · 2 months

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Zero, I need to rant about DC's mistreatment of my son.

Why can't Tim craft his own identity outside of Robin and Batman? Every other member in the Batfamily (not Damian just yet but idk if DC wants to do that considering all their writers are pushing for him to be either Ra's Heir or Batman's heir) who has been Robin is has distanced their new heroic identity away from their time as Robin.

For whatever reasons, the writers seem to be allergic to Tim growing as a character and stepping away from his identity of Robin. They couldn't even give him an original NAME. WTF IS RED ROBIN?? I'm so pressed about it because a alias is so important and unique to the hero and mostly tied to the core of their character, origin, or development.

Bruce chose Batman because he feared bats, and he wanted to be the fear that scared straight the criminals of Gotham.

Dick chose Robin because it was a way to carry on his parent's memory and legacy, and Nightwing was chosen due to Superman (Someone who Dick looks up to) telling Dick about the Kryptonian myth of Nightwing and Flamebird.

Clark got his superman alias from his father, one of the only parting gifts he has from him.

So Timmy, my dude, wtf is Red Robin about? I feel like it's such a cop out to him as a character. Like, we get why Robin was so important to him due to him being a freaky little lonely fanboy. But during his Robin run, he grew so so so much. Why would the DC Writers not let his growth show? Why also reduce and retie his identity to Robin?

Tim is known to be a great detective, it's one of his shining marks as a Batman protegee. Ra's al Ghul even states that Tim is a better detective than The Batman himself. Hell, when Tim was 14 he discovered that Dick was Nightwing and Robin, because his freaky loner obsession and past trauma of witnessing the flying Grayson's murder made him connect the dots when Dick was flipping and doing acrobatic feats that no one but an extremely skilled and gifted acrobat could do (Tricks that have only been successfully done by a fucking FLYING GRAYSON - note how silly and girlie pop Dick was for that one).

Like, fr DC, why not tie Tim's new identity with his amazing detective skills?

Honestly, I think DC could have taken some inspiration from an Edgar Allan Poe character and given Tim a detective-associated. Because, Poe's character C. Auguste Dupin, is literally the first ever detective we see in fiction and the backbone of how so many other detective character's created.

Like a name that inspired from the first ever detective himself would be so damn cool. And it would tie into Tim's origin as I'm pretty sure Tim is the first person who actually discovered Dick and Bruce's identities with just his raw and untrained detective skills. So a name like New August would be so damn cool.

Or hell, if DC didn't want to be even that level of creativity into his name and stick with the bird theme (because we all remember the Drake incident so well). Nightingale would be a cool (given not so original) name unless they wanted to spell it like Knightingale. They're one of the few birds who hunt at night, and it could also be a call back to the nurse Florence Nightingale who was a badass and known for the Nightingale theory of nursing:

"A nurse must use her brain, heart and hands to create healing environments"

AS IF that could translate into the hero world. Mister-Dropped-Out-Of-Med-School-Bruce-Wayne is foaming at the mouth.

To conclude, fuck DC and fuck them for doing my TimTam dirty. Let him be his own man :/

I don't agree with all of this but Tim does deserve better that's true. He's sort of stuck in limbo and his growth should have happened a long time ago tbh.

He could have been Flamebird like Dick is Nightwing to name one. Dick has always been his inspiration. Maybe Red Robin for a time (since back then he and Dick had grown apart), and then Flamebird after they reconciled.

It's sad because some of the main things with Tim are that love for him is conditional because of his shitty parents, and that he has a hard time crafting his own identity, and DC doesn't let him grow out of any of this and keeps using him as a chew toy. It's sad.

(and no being queer isn't character development)

#my asks #tim drake

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ike-mcswains-mortician · 5 months

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I shall start of with the couple of all time- magnus and songbird!

So since this is an idea from the start of this year, i have no clue where all the art is so i have one very old reference for songbird and that is this one!

He looks a bit different now but everything’s basically the same. So fun fact! Magnus was only invented to stop one of my irl friends from trying to date songbird.

She was like ‘let my character kiss him’ and then magnus appeared to be like ‘girlie i did that and now i’m cursed so don’t’ but knowing her she’ probably find a way around that hehe

Magnus was kind of pulled from his easy life as a worker for the government's research unit and into a life of luxury and things due to him dating and getting engaged to Songbird. I should probably say that Songbird isn’t his real name and i forgot his real name soooo i’ll tell you once i find it again.

Also Songbird was part of the government's inner circle which is made up of six (once seven) people that they think ‘hmm you guys have a lot of resources and/or power in the community so be part of this group so you don’t fuck up our plans’ and once Songbird committed his first murder, they threw him out but in secret the group’s members have been keeping in contact with him for tibits on the criminal lifestyle lmao.

ALSOOO the scar across magnus’s mouth/face is due to a little scenario i have made up (which i love and have put in my mind forever) is that in the ‘final battle’ for these two, if you can call it that, magnus was trying to convince songbird to report the murders to the police since magnus didn’t know that songbird did them and he ended up kissing him and akdhkd while that was happening magnu’s brain is connecting the dots and is like ‘oh shit my fiance’s a murderer’ and casted fireball but it backfired and hit him in the face as well as songbird.

YEAH.

SCREECHING INTO THE VOID OH MY GODDDDDVDVDVDV THIS IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEEEEE

THE COUPLE EVERRRR AAAGH

rotating songbird in my mind WHAT WAS HE DOING IN THE GOVERNMENT INNER CIRCLE HUHHH also love that they’re still in contact like.. do they swap information?? he doesn’t give me the vibes of someone who would give up information to ppl who kicked him out for free so what’s in it for him??? hmmmm

ok now! (claps my hands together and screams) THE SCAR???? HELLO????? holy shit bro i straight up got lightheaded reading that ITS SO FUCKING COOL RAHGHGHHH I AM LOSING MY MINDDDDDD

can. can i draw the sillies. can i PLEASE draw the sillies. oh my god you’ve given me so much brainrot /pos

#magnus being created to stop your friend from kissing songbird is so funny to me /pos #also your friend is so valid for that what who said that #ask #thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls #other people’s characters

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nathandrakeisabottom · 17 days

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hullo! saw you rb'd an ask game so thought i'd send in a question or two to my favorite nate pegger...

✍️ What's your writing process?

📚 Who's your favorite author (or a few of them)?

"To my favorite nate pegger..." :

😳❤️ Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.... ❤️😳

✍️ What's your writing process?

You tell me!! Bye!!

📚 Who's your favorite author (or a few of them)?

This is so shameful to say, but I really haven't been a regular reader for ages, and when I am, it tends to be mostly plays over novels. The one exception are my lovely friends on the ol' dot org, especially @durrtydawg, @libertatias, @weltraum-vaqueroand, and @not-those-kids.

But as for my favorites of all time, I have to say I love.... uh.... not to out myself, but: Shakespeare, girlie. Tony Kushner (Angels in America) is incredible. Rebecca Stead has all the incredible, sharp brevity that I wish to utilize more in my own writing. She tells stories with the exact number of words they need, no more, no less, and the pacing is phenomenal for it. Pseudonymous Bosch. David Ives. Anton Chekov. My father. Chuck Tingle.

Okay, fuck it, top 2 writers are William Shakespeare and Lemony Snicket.

(Okay, for real, though) ✍️ What's your writing process?

Unfortunately for everyone, I am a moody booby artsy fartsy hippie dippy friend of shaggy, so I'm diagnosed disease of "waa waa I can't write because I'm not 'feeling it'" which means that for maybe four out of 50 fics, it came pouring out effortlessly in a brilliant whirl of inspiration. Maybe even shed a tear or two (in the acting world, that's how you know it's good).

But for all the others, it's honestly a painstaking grind. I don't really enjoy my writing until I'm able to return a week or two later and go "huh, this actually isn't so bad". Then, I forget, and the cycle starts again. Unhelpfully, my brain works in visuals, and a lot of the times it feels hard to capture moments in a way I'm satisfied with when you can't directly, exactly translate film energy into written fiction energy.

Don't burn me at the stake, but I'm also a "I psychologically have to make each sentence perfect before continuing" person and a "mostly writes connective tissue and struggles to let herself write the big, interesting scenes before it's time" girlie, and then I have the GALL to ALSO complain that there's no good word for balls.

But to be honest, a lot of my work comes simply from a longing for a piece of media I can find myself and my wants reflected in. For as far as we've come, there's still so much shit I'm *shocked* isn't normalized or as readily found in fiction. Especially nowadays, when some fucked up sons of bitches brought back??? gender roles??? in 2024???? gen z???? --- it feels like a survival and self-soothing tactic to imagine a world that dreams of dissolving that entirely. I wanna pay for the dates. I wanna buy him flowers. I don't want to be scared to walk down the street. And I want more stories about weird, messed up women getting happy endings.

also sometimes im just fucked up and horny heehee <3

-S 🧡

#shea speaks #ask game #writing!!!!!!!!#AAAAAH!!!! is it this hard for everyone though??

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poptartmochi · 2 years

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one final note for the night.. maybe staying up this late was inevitable, since I had coffee 🤔 but. using all that time to write about the reboot.... it's wrong 😭

#cannot wait to look it over once I wake up later... i was like a girl possessed.. I was either writing or blasting feegie into my brain to #connect the dots faster.... 🦬 ough lugh #fellas when it drops... i hope the read more works 😶#what else b4 i clonk out.. OH! i think i Do have to rewrite the reboot so it's not horrific in every way. Because. I've connected too many #dots for this version of gioia. she went from the semblance of a character to a full girlie. her plot anchors flow from one point to the #next without a ton of roadbumps or plotholes now. so i couldn't get rid of this gioia even if i wanted to #how could it come to this.. i have played myself like never before... god rest my soul 💀😭🤪#sriracha.txt #💃🏻#okie I'm gone fr now <3 my eyes really hurt haha! anyhow I hope you guys have a lovely day where you are!!

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kennexara · 2 years

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wait shit i think i connected some dots about my religion issues

for the last few years now i’ve been steadily getting more and more bitter about my mom raising me catholic, right? and yeah sure we all got 99 problems with the catholic church and they won’t fix a single one because those are considered features and not bugs

but it’s not even any of those things! it’s that i’ve always had this fucking anxiety that perhaps wasn’t created by the church but was certainly fucking added to by the church. and like, other people raised catholic don’t seem to have that??? like yeah we all got catholic guilt. but like there’s a huge fucking difference between ‘i worry i’m not as good a person as i should be’ and ‘the only thing scarier than the nightmare where i’m pregnant is when i half-wake up during the night and think i’m dying and am terrified i am going to hell’. you know?

and do NOT get me started on how many times we had to sing that ‘whatsoever you do to the least of my people’ song in catechism and i’d remember the reading about separating the sheep from the goats who didn’t do shit and so now every time i walk by a homeless person i feel this intense guilt even though i never have cash, bc then part of my brain’s like YOU COULD GO TO AN ATM WHAT IF THIS IS THE TIME IT’S JESUS?? while the other part of my brain is like WE GOT RENT TO PAY AND IF WE DON’T BUY A VIDEOGAME OR CRAFT PROJECT EVERY MONTH OUR MENTAL HEALTH GOES TO SHIT SO NO THOSE ARE NOT ‘LUXURIES’ YOU CAN CUT OUT IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE UNDER CAPITALISM.

and so while i’ve been getting more bitter i’ve also been getting more confused about why my brain did this to me and other people’s didn’t. and i think...awhile back i asked my therapist if they thought my anxiety started as a coping mechanism for undiagnosed adhd, or was it from idk having an overactive imagination when dragged to church, or was it just a genetic predisposition brought out in spades by adhd and catholicism.

and i remember they very sympathetically told me it was probably a combo of all three. so i didn’t really think about it further but tonight something clicked into place.

like, i have adhd so i count as neurodivergent, right? so my brain was always different. even if i didn’t know it at the time. what i did know at the time was that I was different from other kids. i didn’t have words to describe it, i just felt (and was repeatedly told by children and adults alike) i was different. yeah yeah you could go on about being in a small town that like sports and being the kid that liked to read instead. or as i got older i wasn’t a girly-girl but neither was i a tomboy i was just...there. but that sense of being different was more than just activity or appearance preferences. and i think now that that sense of ‘more wrong with me’ was just adhd.

but as a kid i didn’t know that! nobody gave me psych books or took me to a specialist, they took me to church, where i listened and was like ‘aha, that’s why i feel different, we’re supposed to not feel great bc we are all cursed at birth with original sin. i just gotta believe in jesus more and it will go away.’

(annnd that would be why i hate thinking of how i was in early high school, i went to fucking church camp and these religious retreat things and in general was the kind of obnoxious christian i would want to punch today. not to mention i ended up going to a stuck-up catholic university that was a terrible fit, despite starting to not care about religion, bc that was the only college i’d really looked at back when i was younger and doing visits).

as you can imagine, believing harder and praying more did not improve things. and so i think that’s why i’m so fucking bitter. i thought religion would ‘fix’ what was wrong with me and instead of any adult doing something that would’ve gotten me an adhd diagnosis before i was fucking 24, they were just so supportive of a teenager being religious. which in turn made me try harder because that had to be the answer then, right?

so that’s why i’m so fucking bitter. religion presented itself as the solution to my problems and by doing so masked the problems from others all without actually helping the problems.

i didn’t need to be told i had to follow rules that matter except for when they don’t bc the important thing is to at all times be grateful to this dude who saved me from this terrible fate i was given at birth, but no seriously also follow the rules.

no, all i needed was a fucking prescription.

#ignore me #i am tired but at the moment this makes sense

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thej13579 · 4 years

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The Girlish Rise of Madame Margaret

After getting picked on by her brothers one too many times, Margie decides to turn them into girls and, in the process, paves the way for the rise of Madame Margaret.

Here's something from a show that I liked growing up as a kid and I'm anyone who both likes gender bending and this show would probably remember the episode Operation F.U.T.U.R.E where the inspiration for this came from.

If you have any constructive criticism and feedback, please comment down below.

---

Once upon a time there was a girl named Margie. She was a girl who loved being girly and doing all the stuff that entailed; playing with Rainbow Monkeys, tea parties, dress up and lots of other girly stuff that most girls her age are prone to do.

But she had three brothers who were not so keen on her feminine side, nor keen on girls in general. Ben, Penn, and Andy all loved to pick on their sister. They liked to pull her hair, throw mud on her lovely dresses and all the things immature little boys love to do to their sisters. Margie hated it, but whenever she tells it her father shrugs it off as “boys being boys”.

At least until one day where Margie had an idea. An awfully evil idea. A way to make her brothers into good little girls; the kind who would rather spend their time playing with dolls and wearing pretty dresses than even entertaining the thought of playing sports.

Through a surprising amount of mechanical talent, an understanding of mental changes and tons of hard work, Margie invented the Girlifying Rifle. It was a beautiful device to her. A weapon of pure femininity. A weapon that can turn even the crudest and rudest of boys into the sweetest and girliest little girls.

Of course, Margie knew she needed to actually test the device first. She did not want the device’s effect to be temporary or be the exact opposite of what she intended. In order to do that, she needed a test subject. Luckily for her, her little brother, Ben, was more than capable of filling the role.

He was lazy and slept often. It wasn’t hard for Margie to tie him to a chair without waking him up. She was glad she got those rope tying skills from Girl Scouts. Now all she has to do is to wake Ben up and she can begin the testing.

---

“Ben. Wakey wakey.”

The brother opened his eyes. He looked down to find his arms tightly tied behind a chair. He struggled, but his bonds wouldn't budge.

“Margie! Let me go!”

“I don’t think so,” Margie giggled evilly. “In fact, I think I’ll keep you here until I’m done with you.”

“What are you going to do? Make me wear one of your stupid dresses?”

“You’re close, but no dice. I should show you what I have in store for you.”

Margie gleefully pulled out the Girlifying Rifle, allowing Ben to stare in confusion at the pink weapon before him.

“What is that thing?”

“This,” Margie tapped the weapon in her hand. “Is the Girlifiying Rifle. Guess what it does?”

“Wait…” It didn’t take long for Ben to put two and two together. “You don’t mean it will-”

“Yes, Ben,” Margie giggled. “This will make you into a good little girl. A girl who would gladly choose to play with her Rainbow Monkeys over playing that stupid baseball sport.”

“Nooooo!”

“Oh, yes!” Margie pointed the feminizing rifle at her brother. The thought of finally turning the tables on her brothers made her giggle inwardly. “Goodbye, Ben. Hello, Brenda!”

With a press of the trigger, Margie fired the Girlifying Rifle. The bright pink ray from the feminizing weapon hit Ben, engulfing him in a bright light.

When the light disappeared, Margie couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of her handiwork. Ben’s dirty shirt and pants were completely gone and in its place was a much cuter outfit: black Mary Janes, soft white tights, a full blue dress with a frilly pinafore and a white sun hat to complete the ensemble. It was an outfit that any little girly girl would love to wear.

Unfortunately, there was one major problem with the transformation.

“Hey! Get me out of this stupid dress! Where are my pants?”

While his outfit was changed, Ben was the same rude boy who helped his brothers pick on Margie.

Margie turned to her Girlifying Rifle. How could she have girlified Ben’s outfit, but not the boy himself? She must’ve forgotten to adjust the settings for biological matter.

“Hey, Margie! I can’t be seen like this! My friends will laugh at me!”

Ben’s protests were ignored as Margie modified the Girlifying Rifle. A mix up on the wires caused the feminizing weapon to ignore the biological components on its target. But it wasn’t anything that Margie couldn’t fix.

“Let’s try this again.”

Margie blasted Ben with the Girlifiying Rifle again. This time the feminization affected his body as well, instantly turning him into a girl. His features were softer, his hair grew past his shoulders, his muscles dwindled, his voice raised to a high, girlish pitch. By the time the pink flowery light faded away, his body looked every bit the sweet little girl Margie wanted him to be.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! What have you done to me!”

Margie’s eyes widened in shock. A second time that the Girlifying Rifle didn’t work the way she intended. Ben looked and dressed like Brenda but he was still the same bratty brother in mentality.

“Did the Mental Girlifier not register during the process? I had to check and see.”

“You stupid girl! Change me back now!”

Margie tried to ignore her now boyish sister as she worked on the Girlifying Rifle. After some brief examination, she found out that the Mental Girlifier was not connected to the rest of the machine. She wondered how she could’ve missed something so obvious during the building stage. At least she found such a fatal flaw during testing and not on a battlefield of some kind.

“Get me back to normal now now now now!”

Margie turned back to Ben with a dark glare. She can feel his whining getting on her last nerve.

“Listen to me you-”

“No, you listen!” Margie yelled. “I’m tired of boys like you always picking on me and bossing me around! From now on, you and your brothers will all be sweet little girls! Now then…”

Margie gleefully pointed the girlish weapon at her brother and fired it upon him a third time. This time, Ben could feel the ray’s powers flowing through his brain. His mind was being drowned in girlish thoughts.

“I feel… I f-feel…”

It was then a tidal wave of femininity came crashing down on his mind. Every masculine barrier was torn down, every single shred of his former self was smothered by the girlish thoughts plaguing his mind. She was now every bit the sweet little sister Margie wanted her to be, both on the inside and the outside.

“I feel so pretty!”

“Excellent,” Margie laughed as she untied her new sister. “What do you think of your new look, Brenda?”

“I love it. So much better than when I was an icky boy.”

Margie couldn’t stop giggling. Aside from a few mishaps, the Girlifying Rifle worked perfectly. The mental feminization could have gone a bit faster, but it was nothing that she couldn’t fix later.

“Perhaps we can make our brothers into sisters?” Margie suggested.

“That sounds wonderful,” Brenda squealed.

“I know,” Margie said. “That’s why I did it to you. When they get home, they’ll be in for quite a surprise.”

“Can we play tea party afterwards?”

“Definitely.”

---

“More tea, Penelope?”

“I would love that, Brenda,” Penelope giggled. She smoothed the skirt of her red polka-dotted dress as she pantomimed drinking tea. Pearls adorned her neck as her puffy sleeves ruffled during the event. Her feet were clad in frilly anklets and red Mary Janes. “Would you like some crumpets, Ariana?”

“Definitely,” Ariana gave off an image of pure innocence as she pretended to eat crumpets. Her full white dress was longer, reaching all the way to her feet. Made of soft silk, it held beautiful flower embroidery and a high, lacy collar that climbed up her neck. The sleeves were puffy as was an adorned sash, its prominent larger bow decorated his collective display

of lace and little pearls. White Mary Janes adorned her little feet, complemented by matching tights. Dainty ears offered a clear view of her flower shaped earrings with little pearls at the center.

Margie looked at her new sisters with pride. Less than a few hours ago, they were boys who wouldn’t hesitate to push her into a mud puddle if they could get some enjoyment from ruining her clothes. Now, the very thought would never even cross their minds. In fact...

“Hey girls! Aren’t you supposed to go to some soccer event this afternoon?”

The trio turned to Margie with disgusted looks on their faces.

“No, sports are gross.”

“I can’t let the dirt ruin my pretty dress.”

“You can’t let us hang out with boys! They have cooties!”

Margie grinned evilly. Not only had she had the minds of her three brothers completely feminized, she also had them completely disgusted at the thought of resuming their old habits and hobbies.

“I’m just joking, girls. How about the three of you play dress-up?”

“We would love to!” Brenda, Penelope and Ariana squealed in unison.

“Great. Just need to make sure your clothes are ready. I’ll be right back.”

Margie approached her brothers’ room with the Girlifying Rifle in tow. She wasted no time blasting everything in the room with the weapon: shirts and pants became skirts and dresses, action figures became Rainbow Monkeys and various other forms of dolls and stuffed animals, posters of action heroes and monsters became posters of ballerinas and princesses. Not a single trace of masculinity was spared from Margie’s wrath.

The last target was a trunk full of costumes whenever her brothers wanted to pretend to be superheroes. Ratman or something. A simple use of the Girlfiying Rifle turned those costumes into costumes more suited for little girls. Costumes of princess and fairies and many other girly figures filled the trunk.

“There. Perfect.”

As she was about to leave her new sisters’ room, Margie heard a voice.

“Well done, Margie.”

The girl turned at the sound of the voice. It was a hologram of an old woman not much taller than her. She was wearing a dark red dress and a pink cape that went up in a way that reminded her of those villains from those comic books her brothers read. But there was something about that old woman that looked familiar. Something that she can’t quite put her finger on.

“W-who are you?”

“I’m Madame Margaret,” the hologram answered. “Or if you want me to go into a little more detail, I’m you.”

“You’re me?”

“Yes. I am contacting you from seventy-five years in the future because I want to help you create a boy-free world.

“That does sound appealing.”

“It is,” Madame Margaret said. “After all, compare your old brothers to your new sisters and I doubt there’s any contest on who is better. Let me help you, and together, we can create a better world.”

Margie knew the right answer was obvious. The prospect was too tempting for her to refuse such an idea.

“I’m in.”

“Wonderful.”

It was then a piece of paper manifested into the room. Margie picked it up and began reading over it.

“That’s only phase one of the master plan,” Madame Margaret said. “Now before we proceed further, your father will be home any minute now. You know what to do.”

The hologram faded, leaving only the projector. A quick analysis indicated that Margie can contact her future self anytime she wants. More or less. Margie could feel the complicated nature of time travel giving her a headache. She can worry about it later.

“In the meantime,” Margie picked up the Girlifying Rifle. “Goodbye Daddy, hello Mommy.”

---

“Let’s see. How can I fix this?”

Margie continued to modify the Girlifying Rifle. She knew that, while the girlifying effect on the target can go pretty fast, she was slightly concerned about it not being instantaneous.

“Maybe if I speed up the time function? No, no. I should probably amplify the girliness factor. That should make the transformation instantaneous.”

“Hello, Margie, I brought you lunch.”

Margie’s new mother minced into the room. Her father was the first time she tested the ray on an adult and the results were glamorous. She looked like a housewife straight out of the 1950s with her red full-skirted dress: her hair was immaculately coiffed and her face was tastefully made up. Her feet were in three-inch red high heels and her delicately manicured hands carried a tray of cookies and cupcakes.

“Thanks, Mom. It’s time for my lunch break”

Margie took the tray and gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. As she ate the cookies, her feminized parent’s eyes glazed over the paper placed right by the Girlifying Rifle.”

“What’s this?”

“Just something my future self gave me.” Margie took a bit out of her cupcake. “It’s blueprints for an academy designed to help me get rid of those pesky boys.”

“That sounds delightful! Sounds like the recipe for a perfect world. What’s it called?”

“St. Rita's Preparatory School and it’s only the beginning. Soon, we’ll have a boy-free world and I’ll rule over it.”

“I agree with that, Margie. Our family was an awful mess before you turned us all into girls. This world would be so much nicer when you're done with it.”

“Please, Mom, call me… Madame Margaret.”

#codename kids next door #my fanfiction #madame margaret #margie #crossdressing

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bitchezbebonkers · 7 years

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A Bughead Drabble

Don’t judge me. Don’t hate me. Lol.

"You keep calling me Juliet."

She looked me dead in the eye as if she was almost mad, never had I seen such a reaction to what most girls would consider quite a compliment from the circles of romantic literature.

I more or less see it as either a satisfying comment to make a girl fall for you or the most annoying and unsatisfactory series of events that lead to nothing but frustration. Is that not the love ballad of Romeo and Juliet?

She tightens her long blonde ponytail and then spins on the balls of her feet to look at me, slapping her hands to the sides of her hips. "And can you please find another way to get up here!" she says rushing to the window, scowling at my ladder leaning against her window. "My parents will kill me, Romeo!"

I try not to make it so obvious that my voice has hitched in my throat and I straighten my beanie before smiling at her. "Don't say I'm your Romeo, Bets. I never have been."

She frowns a bit and I can almost hear her mind ticking. Betty Cooper has always had a way of expressing her thoughts through the looks on her face. I have known her for so long, I was somewhat of a clairvoyant to a small group of people that we call our friends.

She must have felt she had offended me, forgetting that good ol' Juggie doesn't have the sensitive heart that her beloved Archie does. "But-bu-" I cut her off. "But that would be fair Archie Montague," I say, giving her a wink which earns me a shove on her behalf.

She sits back down on the edge of her bed and lays back, her lacy dress riding up and as much as I wanted to look away, be a decent human being and the respectable young man I have tried oh so hard to make myself into, I couldn't help but notice how her blushed skin was reaching further up and up and...

"Jug!"

I snap my head away from her smooth legs and quickly up to her face. "Yeah?"

"I got a message from V, you interested in a bit of a bite?"

I didn't want to admit it, but I was hunting for an excuse not to go. I had blown Archie off but unfortunately, he is not blind and he will see the ladder leaning against Betty's picket fenced house. My hands had been so deep in my pockets for a while now and I wonder if she's noticed but I shake my pockets. "No money."

Betty laughs and runs her teeth over her bottom lip. "And I will have your back – or Veronica will."

My face blushes but it shouldn't – dad had given me a one hundred dollar bill when I crossed him in the street just yesterday which I start fingering in my pocket. "Bets..."

"If it's too much of a girly date for you, we'll call Arch to join us."

I cock an eyebrow. "And detach him from the string and wood connected to his side? I dunno Bets," I say teasingly.

I scan around her room while she lays down with her head in her hands. So many trinkets, such a big room. So much space and flowers and photos of her and Archie, photos of us three when we were kids, polka dots, lace. So much lace. "So much lace," I voice out loud.

She sits up and sniggers a bit. "I hate it..."

"So much lace from the top of your bed to the edge of your thighs," I mutter but I immediately bite my tongue because why the hell did I say that out loud? The lace may be pink and creeping up her body like a vine but I should not be paying so much attention...

Betty sighed and ran a hand over her hair. "It's so girly. I keep saying that but I never do anything about it."

I shrug and sit down next to her. "Make it womanly then?"

Betty rolls her eyes and shoves me again, making my body move and unbalance. "Nothing about me is womanly..." she looks down and blushes, red spreading along her face and neck. "Sorry Juggie, I'm being awkward..."

Again Betty Cooper has left me with a lump in my throat and I try not to make it so obvious. "Well, your shirt tells me otherwise," I say, reaching over and brushing my fingers along her collarbone and begging to brush the swell of her breasts.

She forms goosebumps where my fingers were and shudders a bit. "Have you always been good with your words?"

"Are they working?" I ask a little too loudly. "I'm joking, it's like a coping mechanism – the more I use my mouth, the less people ask of me. It's like they don't know what I'm talking about half the time."

She licks her lips and rolls over on her bed to face me. "I wonder how well you use that mouth, Jug," she seems to say in a whisper but I think I have turned supersonic because it feels like it is the loudest thing I have ever heard. "But I am more intrigued in wondering what that brain knows." Her chest rises and falls and her hands move up to rest on my forearm. The many times that I’ve stared into the blue eyes of Betty Cooper have not seem to have prepared me for how deep a blue her eyes are or the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Not the meet ups in the tree house, not the sleepovers at Archie's that she would crash, not the years we've spent in the same class had prepared me. Nothing prepared me and I appreciate not being prepared because she seems that much more... sexy?

"My mind?" I try and say steadily. "Well, my mind tells me that you've moved on from the Romeo that is Archie."

Her gentle hands seem so heavy as they move down my body, edging the end of my shirt and then long fingers touching my skin along my hips and onto my torso. "I want to be brave, Juggie."

I turn to her too now, gripping my lip with my teeth, trying not to shake or feel too much of her hands on my skin. My lips and teeth can feel the heat of her mouth. Shit, if this is what gets me riled, then so be it. Connecting of the minds first has definitely played it's role in my longing for Betty. As much as I wished I still thought of Betty as my friend, the wishes were being pushed out to the side, punched and mauled by what I am starting to detect is... love?

We stared. She smiled. Her lips brushed mine. Her hands grew bolder, they moved up and down me, her chest pushed against mine. She opened her mouth and took my lip from my own teeth and in between hers.

"Looks like you're the brave one, Bets."

My hands snake up under the lace, my teeth are on her neck and the smell of vanilla is so strong, my nose burns. She arches her back to get closer and I use that mouth she had just questioned to show her what it can do.

#riverdale #bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones

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