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colorisbyshe · 4 years ago

Note

if you want to complain more about clamp I am listening :) as someone who owns many volumes of the manga in multiple languages...... I am listening. <3

okay i’m just gonna rant in a very, very long post everyone please just avert your eyes mental illness is happening

but like....... as someone who was nostalgically reading these manga to bring back some happy memories i had as a kid, discovering that these series (ccs which i remembere dfondly despite not having actually watched/read as a kid, and trc and xxxholic which i read with some of my best friends at the time) are not just deeply flawed but harbouring so much like... frankly heinous shit in them is like??? deeply hurtful to me???

and like... i could handle cardcaptor sakura being full of evil shit because i had no deep personal connection, i just wanted to better understand ccs references in tsubasa and lik better appreciate syaoran and sakura and like its 90s shoujo OVER COURSE ITS FUCKED UP! just like sailor moon and fruits basket like it’s not good but like... i can process it

trc hurts me because like... the character writing for kurogane and fai is fucking PHENOMENAL, the concept is cool and interesting and unique, it (for the most part) has great themes and the way it explores concepts like grief, trauma, sacrifice, and healing was a balm to my quarantined soul

but you can tell where they realized they literally... did not know how to resolve their plot? and it got so complicated it legit gave me headaches but at least i had kurogane nad fai and then they’re shoved to the side just for it to be revealed that syaoran... is syaoran and sakura’s son... looking to meet up with sakura... to be with her... so they can be his parents

like... wow so great to watch this beautiful relationship be explored with kurogane and fai saving each otehr from the worst part of themselves just to be sidelined for “what if those fourth graders from cardcaptor sakura where husband and wife AND mother and son but like NOT REALLY becaues syaoran is also syaoran’s own dad so is it incest or just really confusing” but no it’s both like legit when falling in love with sakura he comments on how she’s just like his mom like hello bitch? you’re 14 but i’ll still kill you that shit is WEIRD

so that wAS NOT GREAT and then it ends with THE GROUP SEPARATED AT THE END?? SO I COULDN’T EVEN GET A HAPPY ENDING like yeah maybe it’s good sakura and syaoran were separated but kurogane and fai got to stay together beacuse... fuck the incest but like... where is my catharsis where is my happiness??

and i’m rereading xxxholic which was my favorite of trc/xxxholic as a kid and... first off, it’s boring, secondly, it thinks it’s smarter than it is an dhas contradicting themes every other chapter, but FUCK it’s so interesting but doumeki, himawari, watauniki, and yuuko don’t have half the bonds as the TRC gang and like... i still don’t know why doumeki was going so fucking hard for watanuki

but the concepts were interesting enoguh and watching watanuki grow was nice

but you can ALSO tell AGAIN clamp just got bored and didn’t know how to wrpa it up so suddenly watanuki gives up ALL HIS BONDS AND HURTS ALL HIS FRIENDS just to be reunited with yuuko??? despite the themes of the story being about how self sacrifice causes scars on others?? and that’s BAD like if you love your frieneds you don’t hurt them by undervaluing yourself??? THATS A BASIC THEME OFT HE STORY

and then they rush to pair off doumeki with a girl THEY HELPED RAISE so he can have children to stay with watanuki... himawari is written off despite her last interactions with watanuki being about them caring for each other anad choosing to stay in contact despite her curse... and like yuuko’‘s entire character is never explained she’s just like “i’m a woman who exists as a vehicle of plot in both TRC and xxxholic i will never be given depth beyond that... well also i’ll ruin watanuki’s life”

and hen the last chapters are just watching everyone grow up while watanuki is alone, never aging, helping grant wishes where he watches other immortal beings suffer and lose everyone, and it just ends with him relizing he likely won’t ever see yuuko again but he’ll keep waiting?? even though it’s been 100 yers and everyone he loves is dead??

and that shit is not good for my mental health like i feel like i have been isolated fo ra hundred years beacuse of covid watching watanuki choose it hurt edeply

like half the manga is about syaoran and sakura begging him not to vanish (also that plotline was WEIRDLY dropped) and the series ends with him effectively... vanishing a sa person and just becoming shopkeeper

how fucking depressing??

i could handle a sad ending if it had value. if it said something. if it didn’t have doumeki marrying a girl he knew since she was an abused elementary schooler while he was like 17. ESPECiALLY when IN THE PANELS REVEALING IT it weren’t like “atcually neither of them love each other they love watanuki but it’s fine” like HUH????????? FOR WHY

and ive really had to grasp the reason why there’s so much fucked up shit (incest, pedophilia) in those series is core to CLAMP’s messages accross all their mangas about soulmates nad how about love can triumph over everything

and like using such a PURE message to be like “if an adult is in love with a child and they’re soulmates, it’s to be” is so fucking evil

like they’ll tip toe around kurogane and fai, yukito and touya, doumeki and watanuki, and all the gaybait that i KNOW is in their other series because i’ve grown up seeing shit like tokyo babylon and legal drug and all their other dropped manga

because gay peopl ebeing soulmates is a wink and a nod

but ADULTS WITH CHILDREN THEY ARE IN CHARGE OF??? MOTHER AND SON MAYBE??? oh that’s fine they’re REAL soulmates who will go against TIME AND DIMENSION MAGIC ITSELF to be in love

like...............................

gay people are second class characters compared to pedos and incest... does it get worse than that? like besides emotionally destroyed by the sad endings, i get that shit too?

it hurts on a deeper level like feels like a betrayal and i’m kind of really sad i revisited something i enjoyed so much as a kid (even when i didn’t understand wtf was going on, because i was literally reading it at the same time my friend was and rushing) andd discovered this like... deep rot inside it

i could have continued to remember it fondly but now it’s just like... reaching the last bite of cake and being told it was made with maggots like... well i already ate it all...

there’s no point reading clear card or the unfinished tsubasa/xxxholic sequels because they’ve already ruined themselves like they can’t fix it

kurogane and fai still won’t be allowed to be together. watanuki still outlived everyone who ever loved him for a mother figure that can never come back. cardcaptor wrote off the fourth grader engaged to hre teacher but like... sakura’s dad is still a preadator

like... what do i do with these left over feelings then?

i’ll be over it in a dya but like for tonight i really do feel unwell

okay thank you i got it out in one post i am processing the feelings

i am gonna cry about watanuki being alone tho

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joopiterjoon · 5 years ago

Text

Agust D- JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: PG13, Not really fluff and not really angst

Warnings/Tags: Drag!Hoseok, Bartender!Kook, Clubowner!Namjoon, drag, pronoun changes, dance performances, kissing, alcohol vague references to the larger story

Wordcount: 4k

a/n: This is from a story that I work on and drop frequently. I have enough to just need to fill in some plot holes now. I’m posting this to see if anyone would want to read it? So let me know if you want to know more

Part of ficswithluv’s #FWLBingo!

“Ladies and Lads with our without nads, our next woman of the night. It’s the dazzling, the soul-stealing, Hope!”

Jungkook rolls a cloth over a glass he turns with the over hand, nodding to the stage. “There’s who you’re looking for.”

You swivel on the bar stool.

“Hoseok?” you squeak in shock.

A stunning woman walks from the back of the stage. She has on a sleek, glittering blue dress that shines in the lights as they sway across the stage. She stares this way and that, to the beat of the music. Even from here, Hope’s face is dazzling. Literally. Rhinestone’s line her high cheek bones, lips ice blue and glistening. Her eyes are large from the makeup, popping and making her nose sharp. The dress falls over sculpted shoulders and dips into bellsleeves that glisten white. A deep dip from muscle appear around her clavicles as she positions her hands on her hips, where the dress fans out around her.

It’s stunning, and you find yourself leaning onto the counter as you slouch in the chair. The dress sparkles as she spins, waving to the crowd and bending over backwards to the song. It’s a sultry beat, filled with something soft and longing. She drops to the floor, body bobbing in time with the base as she now lies backwards on the floor and wistfully twirls her arms above her. You swallow when she rolls up, turning to display an open back.

She stretches a hand to the sky with the rise of the music. You can tell she’s lipsyncing, jaw over exaggerating if the original soundtrack wasn’t giveaway enough as the vocals and crescendo of sound reach a breaking point. You jump when her arms fall to the side, fists balled and the music drops. You raise your hands to clap, but the crowd is unusually silent.

When the white flood lights alight the stage, Hope’s head snaps up, a conniving smirk on her face. She reaches up, one hand tearing off the wig and the other smearing the makeup off her face. She squats down, gathering the dress before she rips it clean off, breaking away at the side.

And there, on the stage a yard away from you, is Hoseok. Shirtless, Balenciaga waistband peaking above ripped jeans that were hidden beneath the tulle of the dress. He raises his arms to get the crowd going, snagging a mike and a snapback from off stage. When he spins back, his arm is raised high, arching the entire side of his body, tongue curling out of his mouth toward the microphone. His core is tight, back strong as he rolls his hips to the beat.

And then your breath catches.

They call me new thang

The recruit is here, to take over everything

The whole world, concert so sick

His voice is its own music, filled with the words, the beat, the sounds needed to add to his display. He crawls onto his knees, rolling towards the edge of the stage, knees popping up from the floor as he runs a hand through his hair and turns the hat around.

I’m different from the hyungs

That ignore their duties

An uprising of celebrities

Damn only strong ones can mess with me

He swivels then, kicking his feet under him and twisting to a standing position once more before you can even fathom how the motion happened. He swings himself off the stage on one hand, rolling into people shoving money into his waistband, stroking their chests or necks as he saunters through the crowd. Everyone cheers and screams, one man practically faking as Hoseok fakes a bite in his direction.

Then, he turns, snapping his hips as he drops lower and lower where the crowd dispersed. He drops low, popping his hips, and you giggle a bit. It looks more carefree, silly in his get up and the alcohol-soaked floor. But just like that, he kicks off, spinning to the floor on one knee before he slides towards some man, rolling his chest up his thigh.

It gets to you. Your heart flutters a bit, and you find yourself sitting a bit straighter.

But not as much when he locks eyes with you. You wonder if you’ve been caught, somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. But instead, that same smile curls on his face, knowing and crooked, as an eyebrow cocks while he continues to rap.

Doesn’t matter if I’m nasty or if I’m a wack or fack

I’m the guy that will carve history on the ground

He saunters towards you and the crowd oo’s and ah’s as he, for what feels like the hundredth time, drops to the ground at the word and swings back up with a hand cupping his groin. As he gets closer, you recognize that same teasing glint he always has when he’s about to fuck with you.

You reach behind you to push off the counter and run, but Hoseok is there before you can stop. He’s between your legs, lowering until his crotch is level, and pumping up into the seat. Your jaw is dropped as you laugh incredulously, not sure what to do with your hands behind you when he leans in, microphone just tracing up your chest as he moves up your body. The crowd is screaming, but at this point, you can’t even breathe from the shock of your tenant air fucking you. The roughness of his jeans catches on your own, his hot breath fans over your chest as he makes his way up to your agape expression. This close, you can see the sweat from his effort glittering over his skin in the varying shades of the strobe lights.

Your body finally leaves you, or as the announcer mentioned, your soul is eaten, when Hope reaches out, delicate fingers tucking hair behind your ear, running his index down your cheek as he starts stepping back, curling his finger in. You shake your head and the crowd boos. Hoseok waves to the booing crowd, pout on and eyebrow cocked, tempting you as he continues to rap along. You shout no louder, crossing your arms in front of you. Your legs feel like jello, and your heart might launch out of your mouth if you have to speak again.

Hoseok shrugs, reaching out to the closest person. He snatches up a man who he grinds into, using his shoulders to help him jump back on stage before he’s on his knees holding the man’s face in front of him, rolling his hips just close enough to touch before throwing the man’s head back, who then fake faints (or maybe it’s real?) when he falls into a friend.

The song starts to dial down, and on the final note, Hoseok is in center stage again, hand held high.

“Love you, Gemini!” he blows a kiss, drops the mic, and the crowd goes wild as he walks off stage.

“Not looking for a debut performance?” a voice calls beside you, and your soul almost leaves your body again. Namjoon sits next to you, leaning on his elbow on the counter as he watches Hoseok leave. “He wanted you up there.”

“He wants a lot of things,” you roll your eyes, trying to take in eveything you saw as you take a sip of the drink.

When you turn back, Namjoon is eyeing you up and down. You probably don’t fit what he wants you to wear in the club, in jeans and a jacket. “He does, doesn’t he?” is all he says, pushing off the counter and straightening the lapels of his black coat.

“Off to woo the partygoers,” he chuckles and heads out. You wonder just how long he’d been there, watching you watch… the show.

You shake it off, swiveling back around to the counter. Jungkook is serving people who are grabbing drinks between sets, so you reach for your drink. Before you can pick it up, warmth crowds your back and a hand reaches passed yours to snag the glass.

“Is that for me?” Hoseok’s voice teases in your ear. You swivel back around, following your drink. He has that damn half-smile on, holding the drink by the rim as he throws it back. He’s clothed now, a light sweatshirt but still the same ripped jeans. He smacks his lips after he finishes your drink. You grimace as he sets it back down.

“So this is what you look like with a shower?” You tease. Hoseok laughs, nodding as he collapses in the seat next to you. He lazes onto one arm, fingertips playing with the glasses on the other side of the bar. The angle emphasizes his sharp jawline, and the crystals still under his eyes remind you of how beautiful he looked earlier.

“How’d you like the show?” He asks with a playful wink.

“I was too busy trying not to be part of it.”

Hoseok laughs again, eyes closing as he sits upright. “I was just trying to say thank you for coming to pick me up,” he shrugs. For some reason, that makes your heart fall a bit. Or maybe it was your stomach? Maybe you’re sick.

“Wow, you really go all out,” you mock your appreciation.

“I do when I know what I want,” Hoseok explains. But his fiddling with the glasses has stopped, his eyes locked on yours. Hope stretches up, standing on the bars of his stool. “I hope good ole betty is okay in the shop. It’s cold tonight,” He pouts, leaning over the bar for a yellow bottle, maybe because it’s same yellow as Betty.

As he tips the bottle back into his mouth, Yoongi comes over to take the bottle out of his hands. “Wow, must have gotten some tip,” the man quips, tucking the bottle on the shelf behind the bar. Hoseok laughs, looking down at the bar. He can’t seem to look Yoongi in the face. Even in the bustling of intermission between acts, you can sense the awkwardness. There’s an odd stretch of silence before Yoongi finally speaks.

“Yeah, I bet. Thanks,” he gives a smile, but it’s fake. Even you can tell. Yoongi can tell too, and he moves to say something, but Hoseok is on his feet.

“Welp, this old landlord needs to get home,” he swings an arm around your shoulders as you gawk at the “old” he tagged on. He looks down at you, and the smile starts to dazzle. You look back at Yoongi instead, giving him a short nod. “It’s past her bedtime.”

Hoseok is pulling you out, elbows linked before you can say goodbye.

As you break into the night air, you slow down. The thumping of the music can still be felt in your shoes, but the chill in the air makes the night feel frozen in time. “Hoseok, you still haven’t talked to him?”

“No,” Hoseok answers quickly, walking towards your car. You trot after, his gate wide.

“But…” Hoseok turns, eyebrows raised, so you pause. He looks like he’s wondering what you have to say, but his half-set eyes send a different signal. “It’s just, I’d get my parking spot back if you guys could settle this.”

Hoseok’s walking backward, humming at your reasoning. It reminds you of him beckoning you towards the stage. You both stand at your car now.

“Why…” you clear your throat as he leans against your car, fist against his temple, completely at home, smiling at you. It makes the words disappear from your head. You shake it, hoping they’ll jumble back into place. “Why do you keep this up? Why not just find somewhere to live and a decent job instead of scraping by?”

“Ah, this question,” Hoseok starts. He rolls onto his back, putting his hands in the jacket pockets. He turns and winks. “Guess you really are interested after all.”

You shove his shoulder to let him know he needs to get on with it.

He chuckles, scuffing the heel of his shoe in the gravel parking lot. “If having my dream means being a bit uncomfortable, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

You understand what he means. Not even living paycheck to paycheck, sacrificing your livelihood for your studies. It’s a sacrifice out of passion for passion. It’s something he understands. It’s part of what has him creeping closer and closer to you. Inside your home. And closer to you.

You tuck your own hands into your pockets, trying to fight the cold. “Um, can I try something?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, even process where you are headed with this. The world is suddenly very warm. A sensation, an urge suddenly overpowers you. Something you haven’t acknowledged that is now determined to crack the surface and pour out.

Hoseok rolls his head to the side, then his body follows suit. You push off the car, standing up straight. Hope’s smile edges up his face. Your eyes are trained on that smile as you take a step forward, drawing in a sharp, cold breath for confidence. Hoseok stands as you take another step closer.

“Are you gonna ask to kiss me?” Hoseok says with lilt.

You give a short nod. Yes, that is exactly what you are doing. You didn’t even want to voice it to yourself. That these feelings had appeared, manifested, and broken loose while Hoseok was on the stage, doing what he loved. You can’t ask, too nervous, so you just look into his eyes, those soft, pretty brown eyes, and hope the question transmits.

Hoseok gives a short nod back, the smile turning soft, something else flickering in those eyes besides softness. “Okay.”

Your cold fingers reach out, lingering around the curve of his neck before your fingers fit under the jut of his jaw. His eyes flutter at the cold touch, mouth parting a bit. But he keeps his eyes on you as you lean in hesitantly.

You lick your lips. Hoseok smirks a little bit, but now his eyes are trained on your lips, not boring into your eyes with that daring glint.

And that’s all you need. You push forward, pulling him into you at the same time. As soon as your lips touch his, he’s in motion, one arm around your waist and the other sliding up your back, a physical request not to pull back. So you don’t, you snake your arm around his neck til your elbow locks behind him, lips parting at the slick touch of his warm tongue across your bottom lip.

You whimper when he nibbles at your bottom lip, sucking lightly before mouthing at you again, tongue behind your teeth as yours twists with his. You taste your drink in his mouth, but something more. Something sweet, almost floral as he bends you back, holding you into him with one final, firm kiss. When he tilts you upright, you grab onto his jacket collar for dear life. He blinks down at you, clearly amused by your sudden shock at almost falling over.

“Not bad,” he teases. You frown at the off-handed remark and jerk your elbow around his neck. He pretends to almost drop you. You both giggle.

He swivels you both, moving his hands to your waist as he lets you fall back into the car. The warmth of his weight contrasts with the cold exterior of your car. He looks down at you, then back up to your face, lips pressed then with a deep sigh.

“What?” you ask, hands now on his chest, curling your hands under the hoodie for some extra warmth. Hoseok shakes his head.

“That was a decision,” he states. “That was a turning point.”

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him flush against you again. “I think so, too,” you murmur, then find his lips again.

#hoseok x reader #kind of a fic teaser?#hoseok fic #fwlbingo #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanhq #hoseok #jhope #ficswithluv

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obaewankenope · 5 years ago

Text

on the ranking of angels

the whole ranking of angels kinda comes from one guy: pseudo-dionysius the areopagite from 5th century ad, this dude gave us the basis for ranking angels in groups, levels, grades, choirs etc

we don’t really know who tf he was since he literally just made himself out to be some psuedo version of dionysius (because we obviously needed another dionysius in human history) and i’d love to time travel and kick him in the nads if i could.

anyway. so yeah. ranking angels.

my upbringing is catholic and i went to communion and read that godsawful bible and blah-blah and so on so like, a lot of my own understanding stems from that and then the deranged Research Frenzies i’m known for. this means i’ve done learning about this topic and generally, i feel like there’s a bit of a... misunderstanding in the good omens fandom as to where aziraphale, crowley (as raphael or not), gabriel and co seem to land in terms of ranks and power levels.

cherubim, seraphim, archangels... fancy words we sort of know but don’t really Get. time to get em.

F I R S T S P H E R E

saraph/seraph-im:

according to tradition, these boys are top dog in christian theology but fifth in jewish. my memory serves to remind me that archangels are also seraphim and that the three main types of angels are cherubs, saraph, and thrones with the other spheres being more titles for them to have on top of that. i’ve read online where the archangels michael, gabriel, and samael/lucifer are either saraph or cherubs but this is... well, thanks to pseudo-dionysius, not exactly easy to frickin’ parse. the book of isaiah describes saraphs as having six wings (two on the back, two hiding the face, two at the feet/genitals).

this means that gabriel, lucifer, michael, uriel and even sandalphon (dude why no ‘iel’ on the end, it’s sad) are higher ranks than aziraphale in terms of sheer power even if they may be outranked by aziraphale regarding humans proper. make sense? nope? not surprising.

cherub-im:

cherubs attend to god and are also kinda shoved into the joyous role of guarding eden. in jewish theology, cherubs are either second or third lowest ranked (eighth or ninth) compared to the saraphs who are middle of the way. it’s from cherubs -- described in the book of ezekiel -- that we have that many faced, multi-winged conception of angels btw. usually a lion, ox, human, and eagle to represent all types of animals (where’s the snake you say? crowley nicked it... probably). thanks to some later western christian traditions we kinda see cherubs as plump, little, babies with those bows with love-heart arrows (probably crowley’s doing to piss aziraphale off). cherubs do have two pairs of wings (four in total) compared to the six that saraphs have, making them different at least there.

so aziraphale being a cherub makes sense. but he’s gonna be second-tier to saraphs like gab’ and co thus he does still obey gabriel as and when required--only in regards to humans can aziraphale kinda disobey because principality trumps archangel with humans but again, gabriel has more pull in heaven and can still punish him (plus gabriel is an asshole in the show and is Just Like That)

thrones aka ophanim:

these fellas are kinda just guards of gods throne. they’re called thrones or galgalim (refers to ezekiel’s wheels during his vision of the chariot). a dead sea scroll calls them angels and puts them below saraphs and cherubs while the book of enoch says they never sleep (like saraphs and cherubs) and guard god’s throne. i can’t really find any names ascribed to this group but are associated with meting out divine justice and maintain cosmic harmony.

i can only imagine how Done they are with crowley over him stopping time...

i’m just gonna straight up skip the second sphere because, well; dominions organise lower angels and keep things ticking over; virtues are the sign post makers of divine shit; and powers/authorities just watch a lot and keep things running along on a cosmic scale. so, administrators. literally. poor civil servants of heaven. they probably don’t even get a decent pay.

the third sphere is what we’re interested in anyway, because of the whole “principalities outrank archangels tho” stuff. so here we are

T H I R D S P H E R E

principalities:

principalities/rulers are guides and protectors of nations and institutions. so you’d have a principality guarding the catholic church, one covering the orthodox church, another who deals with maybe protecting italy and so on. aziraphale is the principality of the eastern gate of eden, that- that’s a pretty big thing. principalities wear crowns and carry sceptres, and carry out the orders given to them by upper sphere angels.

in canon, aziraphale is a principality, but i can’t recall him being called anything. i’m not sure if it’s fandom deciding here’s a cherub or not, ignoring the spheres or not, or whatever, but he doesn’t Really rank above gabriel. gaiman himself made a note of the difference between Archangels and archangels - the capital A makes the difference. so see seraphs as Archangels and third sphere archangels as the generic boys.

in my mind, gabriel and michael -- as pretty much the only really named archangels in christian theology -- are the Archangels whilst sandalphon and uriel are archangels. so aziraphale can ignore two of the four but not michael or gabriel outright (we’re not discussing the disobedience by avoidance tactic he employs a lot). expanding the Archangel category to include maybe Raphael (angel of healing) and Azrael (angel of death) works too, but generally, aziraphale can’t disobey direct orders from them because they are his bosses. unless -- and this is the thing -- it comes to something involving His Specific Principality. but being the principality of eden is... well, eden doesn’t exist anymore. some major mental gymnastics would be required for aziraphale to decide Earth Is Eden Thus Earth Is My Principality SUCK IT GABRIEL and ignore heaven... actually... this might well explain a fair amount of his behaviour lmao. someone else can play with That tho.

archangels:

funnily enough, archangels aren’t mentioned in the bible more than two or three times. in christianity, gabriel is called an archangel but there’s actually nothing in the bible to support that. michael is called an archangel in the new testament tho. the word means “chief angel” coming from greek archein for first in rank or power -- hence why it’s a bit odd for archangels to be ranked below others. archangel is only ever a singular term and used Only for michael btw.

but in the book of tobit/tobias, we get an archangel raphael, an archangel uriel is also brought up in anglican and russian orthodox religions. raphael isn’t really considered a Canon angel outside of roman catholicism (my lot btw), eastern orthodox and anglicans, whilst uriel isn’t mentioned in the western christian bible at all.

raphael gives us the idea of seven archangels btw - from the book of tobit where he says he’s “one of the seven who stand before the Lord”.

in the books of enoch and revelations, we’re told that there are seven spirits of god that stand before the throne and some interpretations have the seven archangels as those seven spirits.

depending on the theological tradition, the names of the archangels vary. the ones i know of as roman catholic are gabriel, michael, and raphael (lucifer doesn’t count bc he’s fallen obvs), whereas eastern orthodox has seven and even an extra one depending: michael, gabriel, raphael, uriel, selaphiel/salathiel, jegudiel/jehudiel, barachiel, and jerahmeel/jeremiel.

the names vary depending on what faith you are but, generally, the three most common are gabriel, michael, and raphael - who are described as seraphim or cherubim and archangels as like their job title.

angels:

regular dudes. i cba even going Into This One Okay?

so all of this means that aziraphale is second to gabriel no matter what unless he does some awesome mental gymnastics and claims earth as eden and argues it’s his job to oversee it as fit (just imagine the vein in gabriel’s head popping from That Conversation).

aziraphale is definitely powerful, he’d have to be as a principality of eden - it’s kind of a Big Deal to be in charge of eden, even if you might share the job with three others - but he’s not quite as powerful as an archangel who is basically the second in command of heaven after god.

unless, as i’ve said, aziraphale draws on his position as a principality and uses That over gabriel who seems very set on his “i’m the fucking archangel gabriel” spiel lmao.

so yeah. this is just A Thing for me. idk if any one else feels this way about it all or not, but you can ignore me about all of this. i’m not an Authority on it and honestly, this is more to make sense of it all For Myself than to Tell Ya’ll How It Ought To Be.

#Good Omens #Ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #archangels #cherubim #saraphim #saraphs #seraphim #cherub #angel rankings #angelic choirs #gabriel #michael #meta #kat writes #i got distracted from fic by this lmao

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kayann9 · 5 years ago

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Walking Away Damien X F!MC

So.... This is definitely one I was never going to post. I never actually finished Perfect Match because I genuinely did not want it to end. I wrote this after about Chapter 6 of book 1. It’s third person so not my usual!

Damien X F!MC (Romance/ angst)

Words - 1678

Rating - T (a little bit of swearing)

He’d finished the case last month. Two women, worried about some odd pictures they were receiving, had strolled into his marginally bleak office with the hope that he would be the answer they were looking for seen as the police had done nothing. As he had thought at the time, it had been a stalker – an overzealous fan – declaring his love for Nadia in the most unromantic and warped ways he could have mustered. And that should have been the end of it all.

Should have.

As Damien straightened the folders on his desk he thought about texting an excuse; it wouldn’t be hard. He could tell Nadia he had a case. He could tell Nadia that. Giving an excuse to Izzy, he had found over the course of this investigation, had proven a little harder.

What else would I be doing? His brain argued. Drinking tequila and replaying the last year of my life perhaps? He wasn’t sure if his mind was trying to make a case for or against him going but mulling over his discharge from his last post was neither appealing nor fun.

His phone lit up as he turned off the light to his office.

At Shenanigans. Nads is late and there is a man in a top hat talking to me. Hurry it up Sherlock.

Damien snorted. Only her, he thought as he picked up the pace down the street.

Shenanigans, as anyone would assume for a Friday, was busy but there was Izzy, at the bar, wearing a tight smile as an obviously drunken man in a comedy top hat chattered at her. “Damien!” She jumped off the stool, the moment he walked through the day and gave an apologetic glance back to the man as she bounded away. “Thank god.”

“He seems like a catch.” Damien chuckled noting how the man kept looking her way even though she’d abruptly run off. He couldn’t blame the guy he guessed. He knew too well, way too well for a month and a half, that Izzy seemed to have that effect on people – men – without her really knowing it.

“You could say he has a certain lure,” she laughed at her own joke and even though Damien tried to roll his eyes, he couldn’t help the smirk that followed. “See, I can make you laugh! I caught that.”

This time Damien did roll his eyes.

“Whatever D, that moody mask isn’t fooling me.” She handed a beer to him and leaned on the bar. He didn’t know when she had started calling him D; it made a change from the fictional detectives she often referred to him as. He should have known at that point the line was getting blurred but part of him had relished in her saying it; it had aggravated him, annoyed him and it had caused his face to scowl, twist and frown. But she hadn’t been scared off. It hadn’t stopped her. She wasn’t taking the hint and part of him so desperately needed someone who wouldn’t take the hint.

They sipped their beer in comfortable silence.

Damien had noticed it happened when they were alone. Like the first time he’d been to their apartment and Nadia wasn’t home; Izzy had made him pizza while they waited and they’d made idle chatter about who they’d invite to dinner, living or dead, if they’d had the chance. He’d chosen Babe Ruth as one and that had led to a discussion about baseball and so on. But from there, he’d found her easy to be near – talking or not. She made no demands of him. She asked no heavy questions. Izzy only told bad jokes, discussed unimportant topics and was, much to his frustration, oddly difficult to read. The utter opposite of her cousin.

Damien got the bar tender’s attention and ordered the special.

He passed her the tequila. They clinked the little glass and threw the liquid down their throats.

“Ah, tequila. It won’t fix your life, but it’s worth a shot.” Izzy winked whilst Damien groaned.

“Are you having a competition with yourself to see how many awful puns you can fit into one social interaction?”

Tucking a loose, brown curl behind her ear, Izzy pulled her mouth into a smirk. “Actually, I’m having a competition with you and you are losing massively Poirot.”

Green eyes sparkled at him, the odd shade of green that he’d noticed when they’d first met only that time the emotion in them had been mired in worry and fear. Even then, they’d been noticeable and beautiful. He’d always found her attractive, even when he should have been concentrating on the job, but he couldn’t help it; chestnut hair sat just below her shoulders in waves, olive skin, only marked by a little scar above her left eye where she’d been pecked by a rooster as a child. Of course, he would find her attractive and despite his best efforts to ignore it, he still did. Only now, he’d decided he quite liked her company too. The problem was, every other man in this building probably felt the same way; just so the universe could taunt him a little more.

This is the last time I’m coming out, he promised himself as he drank her in. I can’t do this.

“So, you’ve started without me. What a surprise!” Nadia flicked a strand of hair over a delicate shoulder and muscled in between them.

Izzy rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Consider it compensation for your lateness. I had to talk to that guy.” Her head nodded in the direction of the comedy hat guy who was now shirtless and singing ‘Mull of Kintyre’ as loud as he could. All three of them winced. “I needed that tequila.”

Nadia shook her head. “And what’s your excuse?” She looked at Damien.

“I was the bringer of tequila. And, I had to endure a hug. We all know how I feel about bodily contact.” He raised his eyebrows at his own lie before drinking his beer. He didn’t like hugs – apart from Izzy. The first time she’d hugged him, after they’d gotten drunk when the creeper had been caught, he’d panicked, maybe even tried to squirm out of it, but the second her head had rested on his chest his body had betrayed him. It had made his heart race. His arms had involuntarily clamped around her. His fingers had stroked the ends of her hair. And he had hated himself afterwards. Yet, every time she said farewell to him, she did so with a quick hug and he had not yet refused it.

“Yeah, D. I’m sure it was agony.” Nadia raised an eyebrow at him, thankfully, Izzy was distracted by the louts on the other side of the bar. Still, he froze. She knows. How does she know? He knew from the way her mouth lifted into a smirk, just on one side and how her arms folded over her chest. It told him: I’m onto you.

“What’s the plan? I am getting bad vibes in here. Like, any second Lord of the Dance is coming on and it’s all going to Hell.” Izzy’s questions shattered the unspoken conversation between them both. She noticed the look they shared and for a split second wondered what was going on.

Nadia swirled the wine around the glass. “There’s a dive bar over the road.” Her shoulders shrugged. They both looked at Damien.

He knew that bar. It had been one that he’d frequented when he’d gotten back. The one where he’d drunk until he’d almost passed out and where he’d taken home two of the barmaids (on separate occasions) and then he’d worn out his welcome. No. I can’t go in there. He breathed in deeply. This is the last time I come out. It has to be.

“I suppose this is where I leave you both.” He smiled. This time it was warm and even though Nadia heard his words, Izzy heard much more than that when she looked at his face.

“Oh, Damien, we can just go somewhere else.” Nadia started but Izzy knew better.

“I should go, seriously, I have a meeting early.”

“On a Saturday?” Nadia started.

“Nads, to be fair, you do owe me a girl’s night.” Izzy spoke, a light smile on her face and a grateful one on Damien’s. She gave him a silent welcome. Nadia’s gaze dropped back to Izzy and just like that she agreed.

As they were about to leave, Nadia left for the restroom apparently not trusting the ones at a place called the Lord Drake.

“So,” Izzy started and shoved her hands in her pockets.

Damien took in a deep breath knowing that he wouldn’t see her again. Or he’d be trying not to.

“I’ll see you around, Inspector Gadget.” Izzy chuckled and despite his best effort so did he. Just when he was about to speak, Izzy stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his torso. His breath hitched. Even though his brain was screaming at him to stay rational, logical and sent reminders to the forefront of his brain about the last time work and professionalism became mingled, it didn’t stop him from resting his chin on her head and breathing in the scent of flowers that came from her hair. He stayed there a minute, maybe a little more. “I thought you didn’t like bodily contact.”

“Hardy Har.” He broke the hold but her hand stayed on his forearm.

“I’m giving you a pass this time. But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me Nazario. I’m persistent.” She whispered just as Nadia walked back towards them.

“I thought you didn’t do bo-”

“She already beat you to the joke Nadia.” Damien smirked when she huffed and crossed her arms.

“Fine. We’ll see you later D. Enjoy brooding.” She laughed before skipping off.

Izzy followed before turning on her heel. “Remember, one ‘get out of jail free’ card. And you just used it.”

Shit. His brain hummed. Shit, indeed.

#damien nazario #perfect match #playchoices #pixelberry #pixelberry choices #damien elvis nazario #perfectmatch #pm choices

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 25)

Partners Of Sorts

This is kind of an uneventful chapter, just a bunch of character interactions, but it needed to be there to explain certain things to reader, and to appreciate some of the other characters. I hope it hits a spot, though!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

"Hey, Kieran. Can I borrow your brush again? The communal ones keep goin' walk-about."

I'd had a busy morning tending to the horses alongside Kieran; putting out fresh hay, cleaning up after them, maintaining the leather on everyone's saddle. We hadn't spoken much, I figured he was feeling awkward after catching a tender moment between Arthur and I the other morning, but when it came to brushing Rayna's dusty coat, the silence needed breaking.

Kieran eyed me cautiously, then glanced over his shoulder into camp. I quirked a brow, closing the large gap between us and looking at him expectantly.

"You ain't using it, are you?" I asked and he shook his head, hastily reaching into his bag and pulling out his brush, tossing it to me. I fumbled with it, but managed to catch it. "Thanks."

I walked back over to Rayna, making a start on brushing her down, starting at her neck. I glanced over at Kieran again, utterly puzzled by his behaviour. We never really chatted like good friends, but the silence was odd. At the very least, we'd throw back and forth mindless small talk about horses. I rather liked it.

"How's Maggie doing? I heard Lenny say she got a little scratched up on some branches," I called out to him.

"She's fine," he replied, leaving it at that. I let out a quiet breath and went back to tending to Rayna again for a while.

"The dust in this place is so clingy, ain't it? You brush it off and it settles right back in," I chuckled, trying again. A small humming sound was all I heard, then he was walking off, going towards The Count, Dutch's horse, who happened to be the furthest away from me of the bunch. I couldn't help but screw my face up a little. What was his problem?

I carried on working, brushing out Rayna's coat, getting her looking nice and shiny before untangling her mane and the hair around her hooves. It took me a little while, and I figured I'd earned a break and a drink, so headed over to Kieran to hand him his brush. When he noticed me approaching I saw him mutter something under his breath, and turn his head away a little, looking towards camp once again. I frowned.

"Here's your brush, Kieran. Thanks," I said, pushing it into his palm with more force than necessary. "Have I done something?"

"I'm sorry, Miss?" He looked back at me, eyes widening a little.

"Have I done something to offend you? You're barely answering me when I speak to you and you're acting all shady," I said, crossing my arms and cocking a hip.

"No, no, not at all. You ain't done nothin'," he assured me, holding his hands out and looking around.

"What? What is up with you, looking around like that?" I raised my voice a little out of frustration and he winced.

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry, I ain't aiming to upset you, Miss, I'm just…" he stopped, sighing and gulping down his nerves. "I just ain't sure it's a good idea, me being seen being friendly with you, is all."

"Huh? Why? Never bothered you before, all we do is chat," I shrugged, perplexed, a little offended, even.

"No, I know, that was before I knew you and- and Mr. Morgan were…" he didn't finish his sentence, voice fizzling out to nothing. I stared at him for a moment, expression vacant.

"What're you going on about?"

"All I'm saying is, I don't wanna make him mad!" He explained, face apologetic, body all jumpy and on edge.

"By talking to me."

"Yes!"

"Huh…" I huffed, clicking my tongue and looking down at the ground. "You're scared of Arthur?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes! I- I- I mean, no, not scared, I don't know! He ain't exactly my best buddy," he shook his head, sighing heavily, starting to brush The Count.

I stared at him for a while, then tutted.

"I don't appreciate you acting like I can't have friends, just 'cause me and Arthur are… the way we are," I muttered. "I'm my own person, you know?"

"Of course, sure, I don't mean anything bad. I'm just trying not to push any of his buttons, you understand, right?"

"Not really, Arthur's a nice guy, he ain't gonna hurt you," I said, gaining a disbelieving look. "What, you don't think that's the case?"

"I ain't saying anything," he shook his head and grumbled.

"Relax, O'Driscoll," I snorted, patting him on the shoulder. His eyes widened and he looked at me.

"Oh, not you too," he whined.

"What?" I frowned.

"With the O'Driscoll bullcrap," he explained, "I thought you were better than that."

"But that's your surname, ain't it?" I queried, dumbfounded by his reaction. Everyone called him 'O'Driscoll', just like everyone referred to Arthur as 'Morgan', and John as 'Marston'. Surely.

"No! It ain't my damn surname. Duffy. Kieran Duffy!" He spat, getting all het up.

"Alright! I didn't know! How was I to know? Everyone just calls you that!" I exclaimed, huffing out in annoyance. "Sorry."

"You really don't know why everyone calls me that?" He gave me a look, like I was stupid or something, and I got defensive.

"You know I ain't been here all that long. What, am I supposed to know everyone's life story automatically?"

"No, I just thought with you gettin' all snuggly with one of the head honchos 'round here, you'd know. The O'Driscolls is one of these folks' worst enemies. Another gang of outlaws. I ran with 'em for a while, well, more like got dragged along," he explained, stopping to take a drink from his canteen.

"So what'chu doing here?" I asked him in surprise.

"Your boyfriend captured me, brought me in. They all had me as some sort of prisoner, threatened to slice my nads off if I didn't lead 'em to Colm; the O'Driscoll leader. Long story short, I saved Arthur's hide and I've been staying with you folk ever since. Not like any of 'em wanna let me live it down, despite it all, though."

"You saved Arthur's life?" I breathed, looking at Kieran in a new light. He glanced at me, like it wasn't a big deal.

"I guess. I shot a guy who was about to paint his porch with his brains. Don't get much thanks for it, though," he shrugged.

"Well, thank you," I told him. He made a throaty, awkward sound and shook his head, turning away. "For what it's worth, I'll tell Arthur to be kinder to you."

"Oh God, don't. I don't need a woman fighting my battles for me. Uh, no offense. Not that you bein' a woman is–"

"Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut," I deadpanned, cutting off his bumbling sentence. "Thanks for filling me in, anyway."

"No problem," he shrugged.

"And Kieran? You ain't gotta avoid me. So… don't," I told him and he stared at me for a while before nodding. I smiled at him, then left to pour myself a coffee.

It was just the dregs left over in the pot, so I emptied it out and refilled it, brewing a fresh batch. I poured myself a mug and spotted Miss Grimshaw sitting by herself at the table. I wandered over, gauging her mood before I committed. She was sitting with her forehead in her hands and I frowned, taking the seat opposite her.

"You okay, Miss Grimshaw?" I tentatively asked. She lifted her head promptly.

"Oh! Yes, just fine, thank you darlin'," she answered, but her forehead was pinched. "Well, headache. But I can manage."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Need me to fetch you some water?"

"Bless you. No, I'm alright," she dismissed.

"Why don't you take your hair down? I find if I have mine up too long, I can get headaches," came my suggestion, to which she chuckled.

"After I spent time this morning putting it up? No chance," she smiled at me and I shrugged softly, looking down into my mug.

"Well then, if there's anything on your to-do list, let me know and I'll try and cross it off for you," I offered and she eyed me with suspicion.

"Alright, what is this?"

"Hmm?"

"You about to ask me for somethin'?"

"What? No! I'm just being friendly. You ain't feeling well," I told her, brow curving in mild offense at the assumption.

"Oh, well, alright then. When you've finished your coffee you can take a needle and thread to the boys' tent over there," she pointed over to the one closest to the campfire. "Micah put a hole in it last night, boozed up moron."

"Sure," I nodded, bringing my coffee to my lips. Susan glanced up over the top of my head at something and I heard footsteps.

"Mr. Morgan," she nodded politely in time for him to walk up beside our table.

"Susan," Arthur nodded back to her, then turned his attention on me. When our eyes met, he flashed me a little smile that reminded me of the night before and set my heart racing. ”My lady,” he addressed me, his tone a little playful.

I smiled widely, letting my eyes follow him even after he'd peeled his gaze from me to look where he was going. My eyes dropped to his backside of their own accord, and I was momentarily mesmerised by the way his hips moved as he strolled across to his tent. When I finally looked away, I turned to Susan to find her staring at me, full of amusement. I cleared my throat and drank some coffee, averting my eyes.

"You know, you two ain't as sly as you think you are," she said.

I made a confused humming sound, suddenly feeling flustered.

"You and Arthur. I've seen him staring at you from across the camp. I reckon you're just as bad, though I've caught him doing it many times, now," she informed me, and I gave her a wide eyed look. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed it."

"I haven't," I told her honestly and she gave a tinkly little laugh.

"Sitting together at meal times, spending nights alone together in old abandoned cabins, private little chats down by the lake. You don't think I was born yesterday, do you?" She questioned, and I merely stared at her with parted lips. "You two, you're gettin' to be like two peas in a pod. You'll end up sweet on one another, if it ain't already the case."

I looked down, pressing my lips together.

"You are, aren't you? My, my, I wasn't sure if it'd happened yet but I knew it was gonna. How long have you been loved up?"

I took a breath, considered my options. Try to deny it; to Susan Grimshaw? Not likely a successful move. Change the subject? Fat chance. I exhaled loudly.

"Not long," I finally said, and Susan made an excited little cheer, leaning over to pat my hand.

"I knew it," she was very pleased with herself and I looked her in the eye.

"Can you keep it quiet? We don't want the whole camp knowing just yet. Not that we've been all that lucky with that," I murmured.

"I ain't surprised," she laughed, "but I'll keep it to myself, don't you worry."

"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw," I said, smiling from across the table.

"I know the girls gossip. They were practically putting bets on who was gonna end up winning you over," she began, looking distractedly over at where Mary-Beth and Tilly were sitting by the lake, both sewing. "I heard John's name. Arthur's, obviously. Micah."

"Micah," I muttered, shaking my head in bewilderment.

"Even Javier's name came up."

"What? Christ, what do these women take me for? I spoke to Bill briefly this morning, what about him?" I snorted.

"Oh, don't mind them. This is exciting to 'em, you forget the rest of us barely leave camp. Ain't sure how you've managed to weasel yourself into leaving all the time, workin' with the men," she said, though it wasn't in the least bit malicious. "Besides beddin' one of 'em."

My mouth opened, and I was momentarily stunned by her words.

"I ain't bedded anyone, thank you very much," I crowed, loud enough that Pearson looked up from his hissing cauldron. I flushed and dipped my head.

"You ain't got there yet?" She drawled, loving every moment of making me squirm.

Luckily, a knight in a top hat and an outfit that could rival Dutch's for tricking one into believing the man wearing it wasn't running from the law, appeared beside us to save me. Josiah Trelawny, I had seen the man around camp a few times since Arthur and Charles had gone and saved him from bounty hunters, he'd looked a little worse for wear when he first arrived but he'd sharpened up a lot. He greeted me, calling my name and taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze as he asked me how I was. He was very charming.

"My dear, Dutch told me all about you this morning; regarding the way in which you work. I hear you're a woman of a little showmanship, not dissimilar to myself. I find it's always helpful to create a narrative, get into character, put on a bit of the old charm," he said to me, taking a seat at the table next to Susan and I.

"I suppose you could say that," I chuckled.

"Yes, he had John tell me all about your little gemstone story, very nicely done, I must say. And your Jemima Jones performance? A woman after my own heart," he braced a hand on his chest and flashed me a handsome, moustachioed smile.

"Well, I'm better at playing pretend than I am waving a gun around, I gotta contribute in the ways I can," I shrugged my shoulders, flattered all the same.

"My dear lady, I was considering going out and finding myself a little work today. Might you join me?" He asked and I raised my brows.

"Oh, I mean, I have some chores here..." I told him, glancing at Susan who was rolling her fingers over her temples. I heard a loud sigh and heavy footfalls.

"Josiah, you ain't sinking your claws into her already, are you? What'chu planning? Send her into town dressed like the court jester, have her put on a show while you go through all the ladies' purses?" It was Arthur, of course. He hadn't strayed too far from me all day, aside from his short trip away from camp with Lenny. I'd heard they'd been out stealing guns.

"Arthur Morgan. Now here is a man of such limited creativity when it comes to these things. He could benefit from a little of our nature rubbing off onto him. Have the two of you worked together yet?"

"Not any big jobs," I admitted.

"No, but I know she's good at spinning the yarn, could give Dutch a run for his money," Arthur laughed, then waved a hand at me. "Which is funny, 'cause she's all shy until you stick an alias on her and tell her to spout some bull."

I lifted my shoulders sheepishly.

"I'd like to see you in action," Trelawny said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Both of you, together. See if we can't get Arthur showing a little finesse. What do you think?"

"Trelawny," Susan shot him a look, but he held his hand up to her in a polite pacification.

"I was thinking; a stagecoach," Trelawny added hopefully, looking between the three of us.

"No, no, absolutely not," Arthur was quick to respond, holding his hands up and shaking his head.

"I'm inclined to agree," Susan nodded.

"Why not?" Trelawny barked and I raised my brows.

"Stagecoaches… they go sour more often than anything," Arthur explained, frowning.

"And did you not hear her? The lady has chores to do. I'm not having another feller start stealing her away, I need her here today," Susan put her foot down, shaking her head.

"Oh, my darling Susan. Can't you spare her for an hour or two? A friend of mine can tip us off, find us something guaranteed to be worth the hassle. We could even cut you in," Trelawny flashed a persuasive smile at her. Susan pursed her lips in thought, but Arthur was having none of it, coming to lean his hands on the table in front of us all.

"Worth the hassle or not, the drivers are always armed to the teeth if there's valuables on board," Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll rob a stage with you, Trelawny, but she ain't coming," he gestured to me and I frowned.

"Have a little faith in the lady, won't you?" Trelawny sighed.

"Faith. Ain't about faith, friend, I got plenty of faith in this woman right here. She's shown she's capable of pulling off a job but this… this ain't it. It goes wrong and bullets start flying? She ain't got no business being in the middle of all that," he shook his head and surprisingly, I didn't feel slighted by his unwillingness to have me along. I was not prepared to do anything that could involve bullets.

"Well, that's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Trelawny huffed, cocking a brow at Arthur.

"I ain't being dramatic, I'm being responsible."

"May I speak? Considering it's me you're all talking about," I cocked a brow, "I'm sorry Mr. Trelawny, I don't wanna risk having to use a gun, an' all I got's a rifle," I shook my head and Arthur looked at me, pleasantly surprised by my compliance.

"That's what I thought. You're an excellent con-woman, but you ain't no killer," Arthur reached over and touched my arm, keeping his hand there and stroking it up and down. "I've robbed stages before, almost all of 'em turn into a bloodbath."

"Perhaps the way you do them, but fair enough, you've made your point. Come along, now, Arthur. We'll make do with the two of us. Let me introduce you to my good friend Alden," Trelawny said, waving his arms about as he rose to his feet and headed off towards his horse, expecting Arthur to follow. He looked a little disgruntled, but I was sure he'd get over it.

"Well then, I'm going to lie down for a little while," Susan said, getting up and gingerly hobbling off.

Arthur stayed with me for a moment and kept his eyes on me, a little concerned.

"I jus' wanna say, you know I ain't doubting you, or stopping you from doing this 'cause I think you can't handle it, right?" He said to me under his breath.

"No, but I can't handle it," I chuckled good-naturedly. Arthur shook his head.

"I jus' know you ain't like me, I don't wanna force you into something that might push you to doing… doing the shit I do that I ain't proud of. You're better than that," he whispered, leaning a little closer into my space, seeming to forget our surroundings. "You're good, and I wanna keep you that way."

"You say that like you ain't good yourself," I pointed out and he looked down at the table. I knew he was thinking exactly that and I made a frustrated little sound before patting his chest. "I believe you're a good man. Now, back up. People will talk."

"They're already talking," he said, straightening up anyway. There was a little smile on his face. "Hosea knows, by the way, just came out and asked me this morning. Nothing gets past him, the man knows me too well."

"Miss Grimshaw, too," I breathed and Arthur tutted, shoulders dropping a little.

"What's that, five, six people?"

"I ain't counting," I shrugged and laughed. He shook his head then brushed my cheek affectionately just once.

"I better not keep Trelawny waiting," he said.

"Okay," I nodded, craving a kiss but knowing I wouldn't get one, sitting in the middle of camp. "Be careful."

"Of course," he smiled, then walked backwards a few steps before finally turning around and jogging towards Jet.

With a gentle sigh I got up. I had a tent to fix and chores to do, and they'd keep me busy for the rest of the day.

Arthur never told me he was going to rob Valentine's bank. I didn't find out until it was all done and dusted and Karen was riding back into camp looking well and truly exhilarated, waving a wad of cash around. The others joined soon after, Bill and Lenny, but Arthur was the last to return after a little while. I would've panicked if Strauss hadn't reassured me that he was probably running an errand for him.

I didn't know why Arthur kept it quiet, and in fact, the more I thought about it the more I suspected that he'd gone out of his way to hide it from me. The whole day he'd kept me busy, giving me some money and asking me to go into Rhodes for him to pick up some things; mainly food for his horse, but also hair pomade, biscuits and gun oil. I'd done so without question, grabbing the opportunity to go into town since I'd been planning on it anyway. I bought myself a revolver while I was out with the money I'd saved from various jobs. I felt a little more secure with it hanging from my hip, since it just wasn't practical to carry around a rifle as my sole form of protection.

The day had seemed fairly ordinary when we woke up and had coffee together. He'd filled me in on how the stagecoach robbery had gone with Trelawny, and despite his worries it had gone off without any casualties. Still, he didn't regret having me stay away, these things were unpredictable. But then Karen had called him over, asking if he was ready, and that's when he'd sent me off into town before I could hear what was going on. Not that I was worried, or even all that eager to know. Arthur had been doing this a lot longer than I had, and it certainly wasn't my place to demand to know what he was doing at all hours of the day. I wouldn't've been mad about it, either.

Which was why it puzzled me that he didn't just tell me.

When he finally rolled back into camp, he headed straight for the money tin, depositing a wad of cash before heading down to the water's edge and lighting up a cigarette. I finished off what I was doing – washing some dishes – before heading over to him.

"Karen said you all had a good day today. Came away with a good amount," I started. Arthur jumped a little, looking at me in surprise with his cigarette hanging from his lips. He made a little humming sound in response. "I didn't know that's what you were up to today, I would've wished you luck, or somethin'."

"It's alright," he mumbled. I came to a stop by his side, looking out over the water with a soft smile on my lips.

"I left your things by your bed, got everything on your list," I told him, then reached into my satchel to pull out his leftover cash.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he replied, then noticed my outstretched hand. "You didn't pick up somethin' for yourself? I gave you a little extra in case you wanted to."

"No. Well, I did, but I paid for it. Got myself a gun, something a little less unwieldy," I giggled, taking his hand in mine and pushing the money into it. He stared at it for a moment, but didn't put it away.

"You should keep this, you did me a favour," he told me. I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, shaking my head.

"Arthur, I can do you favours without taking payment from time to time. You can just give me a few kisses later to say thanks."

"Alright, I shall. Maybe we'll take a walk later, you and me," his mouth curled and he pocketed the cash, nudging me with his shoulder.

"That'd be nice," I grinned.

"Show me this gun of yours," he suggested, gesturing to the new addition to my ensemble; a belt with a holster. I withdrew the weapon, carefully handing it to him. It was a Schofield revolver, standard model, I hadn't bothered with any upgrades or customisation. It'd be wasted on me, considering I was the kind to hope to never use the thing.

Arthur inspected the gun, turning it over in his hand, pointing it out ahead of him and looking down the sight. "You fired it yet?" He asked.

"Not yet."

And so, with a cheeky little smile from Arthur, we went around collecting empty glass bottles from around the camp. It wasn't hard, Uncle alone could provide us with a few, but other members of the gang chipped in too. Arthur took me out down the edge of the lake, not far from where we'd been the other night, and arranged the bottles up on a rocky part of the bank.

I stood a few steps away, loaded up my new gun and looked down the sight at an empty gin bottle. Arthur was sitting nearby watching me, legs dangling off the edge of a short drop down to where I was standing by the water's edge. I missed the first couple of shots, just as I expected, as I got used to the new weapon. Arthur cheered when I shattered the first bottle, and I took out a second one to make sure it wasn't a fluke. Satisfied, I lowered my arm and glanced at Arthur.

"Feels similar to my old one, it's good to have a sidearm again," I told him. Arthur nodded and looked down at the gun in my hand.

"I'm glad you got that, too. You got something small and good for protecting yourself," he said. "So you got a rifle, a bow, a sidearm. You're all stocked up, you ain't gonna run off now, are you?"

"You ain't serious," I scoffed, rolling my eyes then swinging my arm back up towards the bottles. I took aim, then blew out the remaining bottles one by one until there was nothing but shards of glass remaining. I holstered the gun after that, and turned back to Arthur to spot his raised brows, lips a pursed, surprised little circle. I snickered and trotted over to him, standing between his legs and resting my elbows on his knees. "I like you too much to run off."

His expression was soft and open as he gazed at me, like he was touched, yet lost in thought. I looked at him expectantly, but held my tongue.

"Christ, you're lovely," he told me under his breath, words soft yet still with the ability to jolt me and set my pulse soaring. "I really don't deserve you."

"Arthur," I sighed, tilting my head. "Why'd you say stuff like that?"

"'Cause I believe it to be the truth."

"Well, it ain't. I'll start thinking you're fishing for flattery, you keep on like that," I scolded, frowning at him. He chuckled a little.

"I ain't fishing for nothin'. I'm sorry, I'll try not to be a misery guts and just appreciate having you like this," he acquiesced, taking my face in both hands. His brow was a little creased and when he smiled, his eyes didn't get the memo.

"Are you alright?" I asked and he took a breath that moved his whole body, his eyes dropping down to my chest distractedly. He let go of my face, letting his hands rest on my shoulders instead.

"I had to do some work today that I've never liked doing," he admitted.

"The bank?"

"No, not that. Though I don't exactly feel like bragging about that one, either. It's why I never told you, I don't like rubbing your face in my work, it just makes me feel worse about… feeling like I ain't right for you."

"Don't say stuff like that, it worries me," I confessed, mouth turning down. I slid my hands up his thighs before wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning into his torso. He stroked his hands over the back of my head soothingly.

"Why's it worry you?"

"Makes it sound like you're gonna end things with me," I said honestly and Arthur went stiff for a moment before he carried on his movements.

"I ain't gonna do that, princess. I don't have that sort of self control," he assured me, then he must've tilted his head down because his voice sounded closer. "And just like you, I like you too much for that." He pecked the top of my head and my chest sang.

"That's good. I'm glad we're both as hopeless as each other," I mumbled into his shirt and he laughed, shaking me. "Tell me about this work, then."

"Collecting debts for Strauss. It's what had me all wound up when I came into camp that first day you were there, throwing my weight around, yellin' down the place. Remember that?"

"Of course," I told him, thinking about how I remembered every moment I'd spent with him since joining the gang. I doubted I'd forget anything.

"I went to get the rest of the money from Mrs. Downes, today. A widow. I never even got to confront the man himself for the money, he passed before I could. Strauss likes lending money to sick folk, it seems," he started, sighing loudly. "She and her son pulled no punches, let me know just what a sick man I was for doing what I do. They don't need to tell me, it's awful work. These people are desperate, they're having the worst time of their lives and we take advantage of that."

I didn't know what to say, I just kept my face buried in his chest and let him vent.

"I never have liked it. Seems to go against everything Dutch and the rest of us stand for. We ain't angels, but we take from folk who have too much. From folk who won't miss it. And we try and help those who need it, who've lost everything, people like Mrs. Adler."

"And me," I added.

"And you," he repeated, stroking his hand down the length of my hair again. "Mrs. Downes, she's lost everything, now. Her husband, her home. And I'm the face she puts it all to. It… it makes me sick to my stomach."

I straightened up, keeping my arms around him but looking up to see his face. He was looking off towards the camp. I was reminded of the fact that it was broad daylight, and begrudgingly removed myself from him and went to lift myself up onto the ledge beside him. Arthur helped me up when I struggled, offering his hands. When I was finally settled, I looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry this sort of work is put on you. I know you ain't doing it out of choice."

"Sometimes, I gotta beat the money out'a folk. That's why he sends me, knows they'll be scared of me. I don't pretend to not see why, I ain't no saint, I like a good fist fight as much as the next lowlife criminal. But I don't enjoy handing out beatings to innocent people," Arthur averted his gaze, scratching a patch of dried mud on his jeans.

I thumbed a piece of hair away from his face, noting how long it was getting. I racked my brains for some sort of solution, but I wasn't blind to the position he was in. I'd noticed Arthur's role in the group very quickly, he was the go-to-guy, it seemed; the one everyone leaned on from time to time. Dutch sent him out far more than anyone else, others pulled him into other jobs here and there, it seemed like Arthur was never short of things to do. Or things expected of him, more accurately. He was dependable, loyal, skilled in practically everything an outlaw could hope to be skilled in, so it was obvious to see how he'd carved this position for himself. I'd never heard him deny anyone anything, either, he just got on with things. Mostly without complaint, too.

Arthur took my silence the wrong way. "I shouldn't be telling you all this, you don't need to hear about all my sins."

"What good am I if I can't lend an ear? We– we're partners, of sorts, ain't we?"

"Of sorts," he glanced up at me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm trying to think of something to say to you to make it all better. I can't just say, don't do it, because that's not how this works. I know."

"Your understanding means more to me than you can imagine," he told me through a tense breath, putting a hand on my knee.

"I don't think less of you for the things you do for this gang, please know that," I whispered to him, covering his hand with my own.

"You probably should, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth," he chuckled.

A crunching of gravelly, sandy terrain alerted us that we were not alone. We looked up to see John approaching us, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards camp.

"Lover boy, Dutch sent me out to get you. He wants to talk to you, apparently Pearson reckons we can end this feud with Colm O'Driscoll once and for all."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #reader insert #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #atink #kieran duffy #susan grimshaw #josiah trelawny

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blackwoolncrown · 5 years ago

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first off i appreciate all your posts on the word queer, i think you have a really good way of wording them that i and others struggle to. something your recent post brought up (particularly 'what does this look like when we get rid of the framework') is when people who don't have any experience with that word as a slur want to use it as 'reclaimed' - i've had people tell me where they live it's never been a slur/rarely ever had any influence as a slur, and... i never know what to say. what (1)

(2) relationship are people trying to pretend they have to that word if they don’t even have that same history of its use?

I don’t know, I can’t fully say because I only use the word as a conceptual framework, I use it where it has been used– note that I distinctly say LGBT when I mean both the people nad identities– ‘queer’ is a slur and when I discuss it it’s uslally because this specific word is often being used by people who are not Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transgender, and it is of note that while they would not be able to appropriate such terms, ‘queer’s ambiguousness allows them to appropriate LGBT-specific protections and vocabulary.

Why are they doing this? I will only speculate so far. In many cases it could be a process of their own personal exploration that may indeed lead to them one day ID ing as L/G/B/T, but that process is hampered when they are given license to claim their state cis/hetness is equivalent to LGBT identities.

Which brings me to your being told ‘well I’ve never heard it used as a slur where I live’ and so on. The thing is, this still displays what to me rings as highly suspect lack of empathy. I literally feel, as a person who is smack dab in the middle of several intersections of oppression that that is a red flag.

When someone tells a person that a word is associated with a history of oppression, physical violence and fucking death and that person goes ‘well I’ve never seen such so I disagree’ what has happened in that moment is that the person failed to see the victims you are alluding to and instead self-referred to their own experience as the authority for their behavior. Explaining that the word was associated with suffering did not trigger empathy in them, and that tells me that they do not fundamentally see themselves as like the people in the victim’s group. No matter what they say, or how they identify, this behavior is a litmus test for compassion– literally what kinds of people a person identifies as ‘like’ them and thus deserving of protection/affection.When black people say ‘white/nonblack people can’t say the N word in any context because of a history of oppression’ it is understood to be a perpetuation of racism for person to respond with ‘well I’ve never really seeen that happen my friends don’t say it that way’ what we hear is my opinion is more important than yours, and your story of suffering does not move me.

It doesn’t matter if I’ve never heard someone use g***y as a slur, when Romani people say don’t say it and that the word is actually rooted in racist oppression, my non-Romani experience of never having perceived that form of racism is irrelevant- of course I haven’t experienced it, I’m not Romani. I wouldn’t know. But I do feel that they are people like me who I do not wish to hurt, and thus I would not use the word anymore. If I continued to ignore their complaints and instead brought up my experience of it being an ‘okay’ term, I would be silencing them.So I don’t really care what arguments can be made for ‘inclusivity’, when I see people who do not exist in bodies/experiences that are policed or oppressed along homophobic/biphobic/transphobic lines and have not been made to see themselves as victims of hate crimes say that the word is theirs to use and/or that an LGBT person not wanting that term to be used as a label for them/the commnity is ‘problematic’ and that the word has a ‘positive history of reclamation’ what I also hear is “and I don’t care who it hurts, I don’t know anyone who has been hurt by that word, I do not empathize with these so called victims, I do not see from their perspective’, i.e. “I’m not actually like them and I have the privilege not to care.”These people will never say that, but the behavior of not feeling like ‘oh, oh wow let me never risk bringing that violence into anyone’s mind’ says volumes. Inadvertently they openly admit that not only do they not personally empathize, they aren’t even adjacent enough to the oppression to recognize it.Similarly it speaks volumes when people who consider themselves ‘queer’ display no willingness to understand intracommunity issues, intersectionality etc,, and who flippantly choose not to care about the term and community’s history in favor of accepting that they may be perpetuating oppression.

When someone brings up the fact that your behavior is harmful, and you choose to say their complaining is problematic, that’s oppressor talk and I’ve seen it before.

#Anonymous

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thestupidhelmet · 6 years ago

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I’m trying and failing to write T7S fanfic :(( I feel like I don’t capture the characters voices, you know? Imo you capture them spot on, do you have any tips to do so? Especially for JH, but tips for the other main characters would also be nice...

First, thank you for the compliment! It’s one of the best a fanfic writer can receive. 😊

On your own, you can watch some significant, character-developing episodes for each character and take notes about the kind of language they use when they’re under stress (e.g., angry, sad, frustrated, etc.) or happy. But I’ll give you insight into how I approach each character’s voice.

Hyde

He rarely expresses his emotions verbally without some kind of deflection, misdirection, or concealment. In “Eric’s False Alarm” (4x25), for example, Eric calls Hyde on being the one who stopped Donna and Casey from potentially having sex. He also calls Hyde on one of his true motives. Hyde claims, however, that he “didn’t do it to be nice. I did it because I always wanted to commit a felony. Misdemeanors just ain’t the rush they used to be.”

Eric’s responds, “Well, all I hear is, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’”

Hyde is almost all subtext. That is the key to his character. If he does express his feelings directly, it’s very hard for him. It’s like being constipated but emotionally (sorry for the gross analogy, but it’s apt). He’ll have trouble looking the person in the eye or scratch the back of his neck. Or he’ll stick a curse or two while being sincere.

Hyde doesn’t tend to give long speeches. Usually, he’ll say a sentence or two before another character talks or he does some action to break up his dialogue.

He often uses humor, often sarcastic and sometimes cruel, to defuse a tense situation.

He uses the word, “man” at the beginning or end of certain sentences. Don’t do it too much, though, or it’ll feel forced.

Speaking of word choice, this is a key to capturing a character’s voice. For instance, Hyde has never – and would never – say, “Anyways,” with an S. Whenever I read a fic where Hyde says that, I hear the author’s voice, not Hyde’s.

Hyde-specific words include swell and super (when he’s being sarcastic), freakin’ and damn it when he’s pissed or frustrated. He’ll say ain’t instead of isn’t sometimes. He’s called testicles both ‘nads and stones.

Jackie

Jackie is the opposite to Hyde in terms of expressing her emotions verbally. When she feels something, she’s vocal about it. That’s not to say she can’t keep her feelings to herself. She does so when she’s significantly afraid of rejection.

I interpret Jackie’s character as being really insightful beneath her superficiality. Enough episodes depict her this way to support that interpretation, but other episodes depict her superficiality as being more than skin-deep. That’s up to the individual fanfic writer to decide which characterization to go with.

But with mine, I intersperse her insight with moments of egoism and vanity. A prime example of this on the show is from “Jackie Bags Hyde” (3x08). In the midst of offering Hyde a compassionate, accurate analysis of his childhood wounding, she compliments her own beauty.

She often makes analogies when giving advice (to Hyde, to Donna, to whomever). These analogies are created from her own experiences and interests (e.g., styling her hair, having a pet rat, etc.), but they’re apt, nevertheless.

She has a generally romantic view of life, which influences her language, but she also has a more down-to-earth side. So she’ll say both, “Make love,” and, “Doing it,” when describing sex, for example.

Unlike Hyde, Jackie has said, “Anyways,” with an S, but she mostly says, “Anyway” without the S. She doesn’t curse all that much. When she does curse, she really means it.

Unfortunately, she uses a lot of slut-shaming language. Most of the characters on T7S do. That’s a consequence of T7S’s writers finding that humor funny. I try not to have the characters speak that way unless it’s going to be called out by another character or in a character’s thoughts.

Jackie probably thinks a mile a minute, which sometimes leads her to digress from her main topic while speaking.

Eric

Eric expresses his feelings pretty easily, but he can be hyperbolic. Examples: “This is the worst day ever.” “This is the [FILL IN THE BLANK] in the history of time.”

Like Hyde, he’s sarcastic. According to Red, he’s a smart mouth. Kitty has called him a porky mouth on more than one occasion. In “Burning Down the House” (2x15), for instance, he says about Jackie’s party, “You know what might make this party a little more fun? Sweet death.”

Depending on his mood and whom he’s with, his dialogue can either be compassionate or insensitive and sometimes a bit cruel. Sometimes his wit his biting. Others, it’s corny. E.g., he doesn’t like and resents Hyde’s girlfriend, Jill, in “The Third Wheel” (4x11) and calls her both Terri Tube Top and Yoko.

But he can also be nervous and lack confidence, which will make him hem and haw while talking. He’ll interrupt his speech using, “You know,” several times in one sentence or pauses. E.g., “We … barely knew.”

He sometimes uses antiquated language like m’lady and ‘tis I.

He makes quite a few Star Wars and comic book references.

Topher Grace’s comedic timing and line delivery adds a lot to his dialogue, and it’s possible to emulate that in prose. Again, watch some significant episodes for Eric and take note of his speech patterns and word choices.

Donna

Donna has a quick temper, but she also usually recognizes and owns her mistakes quickly. She has an easy time expressing her anger and frustration, as well as more loving and affectionate feelings. But she’s not a crier. She often expresses her sadness through frustration or anger. Not always, though.

She has a very playful and silly side. She can be as witty as Eric, but in anger she can make some odd metaphors. E.g., “He’s an ass, and you’re an ass – ‘cause the ass doesn’t fall far from the ass tree!” (From “Jackie Bags Hyde”.)

Dillhole and get bent are part of her idiolect. She also peppers her sentences with the filler word like (which should be set off by commas).

Kelso

Kelso’s language is dictated by his impulses, what he’s interested in at that very moment, and his unique POV about the world. He’s very excitable, which leads him to expressing himself as efficiently as possible – in terms of language, not ideas. . E.g., “You gotta see this!” not “You’ve got to see this!”

He comes up with bizarre scenarios and ideas, which is usually adds humor to an episode.

His egoism and narcissism color his dialogue. E.g., “You know what your problem is? I’m too good-looking.”

He’s emotionally immature for his age, and he often speaks like he’s thirteen, not eighteen. (Sorry to the mature thirteen-year-olds out there; I know there’s plenty of you.)

Fez

Fez alternates between using contractions and not using them. E.g., “I do not think you should do that,” vs. “I don’t think you should do that.”

He’ll express his emotions melodramatically. Even when he’s trying to “keep it all inside,” he’s over the top while explaining that this is what he’s doing.

He’ll say, “Ai,” when he’s upset or hurt or worried. I chose the Ai spelling instead of Ay because Fez’s native language isn’t Spanish, despite Wilmer Valderrama being the one portraying him. Just like Jackie’s eyes are brown, despite Mila Kunis’s eyes – at the time of T7S – being two different colors.

On the show, Fez’s dialogue is often used to break the tension with humor.

“You sonuvabitch!” and “Good day. I said good day!” are two of his catchphrases.

He’ll talk about his country, and what it’s like there, without every saying where he’s actually from.

His characterization varies, depending on the season. I’m not a fan of his post-Rhonda personality. In the early seasons, he isn’t a perv so much as someone who doesn’t know how far to push a joke. He’s trying to fit in with his friends, and the cultural differences cause him confusion.

He can be poetic and romantic.

Red

Red is similar to Hyde and Donna. He doesn’t express his feelings easily, save anger and frustration. To Kitty, however, he can be very sweet. To Hyde, he’ll dispense wisdom (and he practically cried in “Hyde’s Father” [3x03] when telling Hyde he’ll always have a place in his house, etc.). To Eric – well, that is one contentious relationship.

He was in the navy during World War II and the Korean War, and that colors his POV. He’s not politically correct, but writing that aspect of him … it’s a fine line. He’s not racist so much as xenophobic, which stems from his experiences in the navy and his somewhat extreme patriotism.

Honestly, watch pretty much any episode of his from seasons 2-4, and you’ll understand his voice quickly. The Red of season 1 is quite different, more nuanced – and I actually prefer it, but alas. That Red makes a guest appearance in “Hyde’s Birthday” (4x23), but he’s more of a hardass post-S1. After season 4, his character begins to become even less nuanced. And during season 7, he’s sometimes very OOC.

Kitty

She’s compassionate and a little cartoony. She’s wise in certain areas and naive in others. She’s smart and savvy – until the show devolves her in the later seasons.

To get her speech pattern and idiolect, “Vanstock” (2x06), “Kitty and Eric’s Night Out” (2x18), ,“Red Sees Red” (3x01), and “Kitty’s Birthday” (3x17) are good episodes to watch.

I hope this helps! :D

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Eric Forman #Michael Kelso #Fanfic Advice #Writing Advice #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Ask #Anon

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kelvintimeline · 6 years ago

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STEPHANIE’S POST ACTUALLY SEEING ENDGAME REVIEW--SPOILER FILLED LIST OF EVERYTHING WRONG WITH TIHS MOVIE I COULD NOTICE IN BETWEEN MENTAL RANTS

okay, so, during the movie, i spent hafl the time compiling rants in my brain about eveyrthing wrong with it and then emailed myself every point so i would not forget what made me mad

this is one of the most passively racist and sexist movies i have seen in a while it was just... completely devoid of any meaningful women or people of color (or... women of color) for so much of the film? and those who were present got shafted a lot. like... literally all of the women except for nebula existed to tell a man’s story.

which brings me to the point that we NEED to talk about the theme of family in this movie--it’s constantly brought up. clint misses his family, tony now has a family (because just dating someone isnt’ a family? this is a very nuclear famiyl oriented understanding of family), gamora and nebula are family, natasha never knew her family but the avengers are her family

and tha’s the crux of it--natasha calls the avengers her family, steve calls avengers family, but that’s not good enough to save her

when natasha and clint are on the cliff, clint makes a great point about why he should die--he’s become a terrible person (he spends half the movie just killing “evil people” who are all people of color, see: talking about how racist this movie is--literally “ronin” clint is better at a samurai sword than a japanese man and now speaks japanese?? why?? it felt like a bad martial arts parody movie--like those racist movies ppl would make about white men slaughtering samurais just not GOOD) and natasha has finally erased the red in her ledger by doing good. natasha dies anyways (literally forces him to kill her) because she’s stopped being useful to her “family” and his family is an actual family.

which brings me to--steve and natasha explicitly talk about two things--how they are family and how it is important to move on.

moving on is a CENTRAL part of this movie--the time travel works in large part so everyone can move on from their losses. thor moves on from his mother’s death, tony gets closure with his father, clint gets what should have been a last moment seeing his happy family, etc. steve gets to see peggy.

steve does not move on. steve LITERALLY HAS MULTIPLE LINES ABOUT HOW IMPORTANT IT IS TO MOVE ON AND STEVE DOES NOT MOVE ON. steve tells a gay man mourning his dead husband while trying to date someone new that moving on is important and steve still goes back in time to stay with peggy.

what’s worse, steve goes back in time and tells bucky to wait for hima nd not do anything stupd KNOWING HE MIGHT NOT MAKE IT BACK BECAUSE HES CHOOSING TO LIVE OUT HIS ENTIRE LIFE IN TEH PAST.

what’s EVEN WORSE THAN THAT--literally right the fuck after bucky and sam gets dusted he’s alreayd thinking about peggy? he never once mentions sam/bucky besides a quick mention of bucky being alive to trick past steve.

more fucked up shit around sam/bucky/steve--sam offers to go back with him but bucky doesn’t?? when old man steve returns, bucky doens’t even try to talk to him? despite being the one to notice him? steve doesn’t stand with bucky and sam at tony’s funeral why?

steve and bucky and sam and so many otehres are FAMILY but not enough family to make steve stay

steve aint worthy

steve apparently DID STAY IN THIS FUCKING TIMELINE? since he didn’t return via the pym particles or wahtever he literally aged into the present AND LET EVERY BAD THING HAPPEN YOu DON’T DO THAT TO PEOPLE YOU LOVE HE LET HYDRA AND TEH WINTER SOLDIER PROGRAM HAPPEN??

unless i don’t udnerstand the time travel--> separate unierse thing which is possible BECAUSE ITS’ FUCKING STUPID

if the universe splits into a different universe when the stones are removed--this would be an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT TIMELINE WHEN THANOS DESTROYED THE STONES which means when tehy returned hte stones, they actually would’ve reverted back to the timeline before he destroyed the stones-an infinite loop

why couldn’t they snap tehir dead back to life?

where did thanos’ army come from?

when his army disappeared why didn’t gamora disappear too?

did they think i would forget that they could de-age people? scott was turned young again--why can’t they make steve young agian, lmao

why didn’t steve take every single vial of particles he could get? like he only took a couple ie as many as were necessary for the plot

how did thanos/gamora/nebula travel on only one vial? why werne’t other ppl sharing vials then??

why was okoye gone all film? like the answer is misogynoir but like... seriosuly why?

WHY DID TONY BLAME STEVE FOR THE SNAP HAPPENING?

WHY DID STEVE SPEND LTIERALLY THE ENTIRE FILMT ELLING TONY HE TRUSTS HIM, THAT TONY IS RIGHT (EVEN WHEN HE WAS EXPLICITLY WRONG AND WAS PROVEN TO BE WRONG), AND THEN CRYING OVE RHIM?

also they still fucked up the timelines?? the timelines are changed AFTER they removed the stones nad yet they did shit to fuck up the timelines trying to get the stones--which means every dumb ass thing they did to get eth stones remains in the timeline. unless steve returns the stones to BEFORE they actually took the stones, in whcih? that makes no sense?

nebula’s “network” connection between her prsent and past self made no sense either

thor literally made valkyrie (who hadn’t been with the asgardians from many years) queen so that they could write her out of his movies as he’s not a member of GOTG

ltos of girl power moments actually worked like that--every time a woman did something cool, it was to harm her in some way. valkyrie is “queen” so she’s no longer relevant to thor’s plot

the moment where all of the girls (besides the dead ones :) ) teamed up just had them get beaten down in teh end? like it was for nothing? that’s not... girl power. also, they wouldn’t even be able to fit all of the important men into one screen so it’s just embarrassing

talking about weird shit about women--EVEYR woman EVER in the series comes back but they don’t even mention sharon, the girl steve was dating, at all, like even confirm if she was dusted or not, beacuse they know that makes steggy look bad

literally even JANE got new moments but sharon couldn’t come up

talking about jane--making thor hung up on her is fucking weird he has a girlfriend? who he treats like shit, tbf. thor’s character was an extended fat joke. he liteally says he isn’t fit to be king and that he was just pretending aftter getting a speech from his mother saying that isn’t true. ragnarok thor was killed off in the worst way. also his mother literally existing just to be like... an emotional spport woman was misgoynistic as fuck lmao

like thor’s cahracter WHOMST?

also, like, the hail hdyra moment was the nastiness shit i’ve seen in a long fucking time?? including antisemitism in your movie just ot reference a comic book run that was panned by both people who hate antisemitism and also antisemitic fanboys who like good writing (like it just wasn’t written well) is just... antisemitic. it was a reference for anti semitism’s sake

the moments they choose to get this shit was also so fuckign arbitrary? you couldn’t retrieve half these stones at like... normal times? also how did they know where to find them in the shield vaults or like where to find the pym particles

the writing in this movie was just ‘what is most convenient for moving the plot along/fanservice/humanizing tony’

talking about humanizing tony did pepper give birth like the sceond after the snap? their child is so old for a five year time skip like... i guess since tony didn’t lose anyone in the snap besides peter it didn’t affect how horny he was

also the peter/tony stuff was so oevrblown???????? THEY WEREN’T CLOSE?? TONY TREATED HIM LIKE SHIT FOR 80% OF HOMECOMING??

its so nice and convenient that ned got snapped too--all of peter’s friends get snapped so no one is 22 and out of high school (also i refuse to watch far from home because i feel like old man steve dying is just gonna be a fly by comment)

talking about the snap--the list of names in the graveyard made sense but it felt like a war/actual genocide memorial and it felt... cheap and gross and also why teh fuck was it placed in that random part of town?

ALSO LIKE?? wanda and clint talk and they make it seem like vision and natasha’s death are equally bad the mcu rly does just ahte women

also the women all get make overs?? why is natasha dying her hair in the middle of the end of the world

why did tony get a funeral but natasha doesn’t?

the guardians having a funny moment with thor instead of discussing gamora felt........ bad

there were two steves in the main universe how the fuck does that make sense?????? how does that not affect the timeline also what happened to peggy’s husbAND?

there are other things wrong with it but this is all i wrote down in my emails to myself. there were a lot of individual moemnts that pissed me off but then something else would happen to piss me off and i would forget what i was mad about before that

#avengers spoilers #endgame spoilers #a4 spoilers #spoilers

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