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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

#destiel #third person pov #casdean #baby jack kline #mentions of saileen #spn crack #bluefirecas #userpris #casthyelle #evermorecastiel #rambleoncas #tearsofgrace #userstarry #holmesemrys #smiledean #oh writing my writing #userdori

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

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Forever and Never

A/N: One more chapter! You guys are a dream, thank you so much for reading ❤️

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, derogatory terms for homosexuality, blood/gore and death/dying

Word Count: 5690

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Eight: All Die Young

“Um… I think besides everything with Ricky… the night of homecoming was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”

“With Bradley Lewis’s death.”

“Yeah. I-I mean, it started off as a normal day, a-a great day, actually.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awaking to a text from Stanley Barber, informing me that he was driving us to school, was a heavenly sight. Almost as heavenly as waking up beside the boy, himself in the near future. Grabbing my phone off its charger, I rolled onto my stomach and texted him back, my feet giddily kicking in the air. It amazed me how he could change my entire demeanor within seconds. I could go from a sniveling baby to a hopping and skipping lovesick fool when it comes to Stan. And I don’t even think he meant to have this much of an effect on me. I wondered if I had the same effect on him? I never really paid much attention to it, just accepted the fact that he would never reciprocate my feelings. Even during that time, I had no idea if we were a couple or just adoring each other. It didn’t matter, though. Stan was finally looking at me the way I wanted him to.

Jacob stared at me with unease as I skipped down the stairs, prancing my way into the kitchen for breakfast. “Mom, (Y/N)’s being weird.” He called out as he opened the front door to leave. Pam hushed him before handing me a plate of food.

“Hush, now, Jacob. Let her be in a good mood for once.”

“For once?” I frowned and sat myself down. Pam smiled over at me and gingerly kissed my forehead as I began eating.

“Yes. For once.”

When I finished eating and readying myself for the day, I received a text message from Stan.

Stan: I’m outside

Me: omw

Pocketing my cell, I called out to my family before stepping outside to see Stan in his car with a grin on his face. “Good morning, lovely!” He called out above his music as I strode up to the vehicle, climbing inside. I gave him my usual greeting before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He chuckled and waited for me to strap myself in before riding down our street. It was clear he was in a good mood, because he let me pick the music for the ride. As Waterloo by ABBA flowed out of the drawn-down car windows, I felt the comforting warmth of his hand latch onto mine. Our combined hands shook to the beat of the music as we happily sang the words to the song. Remember when I said I had only been this happy one other time? This was even better. There were never any consequences to being with Stan, never a dull moment, never a hint of doubt between our bond. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was to him. And now at last, we were even closer in more ways than one.

Stepping onto the school campus, we were no longer strangers. I still walked within my bubble, and I probably always will throughout my life, but from now on there was no need to allow Stan inside. He was planning to be beside me through it all. He wasn’t afraid to be alienated with me any longer, we were to embrace it together. We were going to allow the stares, the whispers, the rumors. Allow them to act as water on a duck’s back. I was proud of him, I was proud of us. Even as I felt the dark brown glare of Ricky Berry trail after the two of us, watching our bashful and lovestruck glances throughout classes, the way we held hands in the halls. I was certain he got the message that I was no longer his, despite the forceful way he claimed me the previous week.

At lunch, I was just about to declare my spot in line when I felt a gentle hold on my arm. Stan, with a warm grin, pulled me away and walked us to an empty table. “Um, Stan, I’d kinda like to eat lunch today.”

“I know, Nugget,” He held up two brown sacks. “I made lunch for the both of us.” The way his grin grew prideful made my heart swell in affection. We sat across from each other as he slid the bag over to me.

“Awe, Stanley, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, though,” He shrugged and watched as I took each item out of the bag and carefully organized them. “So, about homecoming. I was thinking we could make a big deal out of it. If you want to.”

“I totally want to,” I nodded, eyes trained on my task. “What were you planning, beautiful?”

I didn’t miss the bashful blush tinting his cheeks when I snuck a glance up at him. “Uh… Well, I was thinking when I pick you up, we can take, like, a shitload of pictures. Like, just let Aunt Pam go at it. She’ll love it.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“And then after the dance, I wanna take you out to eat.”

“Really? Where to?”

“Nothing too fancy. You don’t like all that. I was driving around yesterday and saw this restaurant that specializes in their pasta,” I suddenly felt the tip of my nose being gently pinched. Looking up, Stan was playfully wiggling my nose with a goofy grin on his face. “I know how much you love pasta.”

“I do,” I laughed and swatted his hand away. “And after that? Are we robbing a bank and driving off into the night?”

“If only,” He wistfully sighed. “But alas, I’m afraid we’ll have to remain trapped within Brownsville until we’re old enough to run away.”

I gave a mischievous smirk. “The entire act of running away is rebellious. Why wait until we’re allowed?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t feel like running away,” We shared a laugh. “But in all seriousness, we go to my house and just chill. We can have a dance contest. Our last was a tie, remember?”

The antsy excitement rushed through my veins the closer the night approached. I was never one for making a scene about school dances, but this time was different. It was my senior year, I had Stan, Ricky was out of the picture. Or at least, he was for the next hour. After lunch, Stan walked me to photography class, the two of us hand-in-hand as we had been for the entire day. Approaching the door, he wished me a good class before leaning in and pecking my lips. Our fingertips lingered as he pulled away and continued to his own class. Feeling my burning cheeks, I turned to go into the room, but an arm blocked my path. “Hey, Zip.”

Inwardly groaning, I looked up at Ricky. His bruises were beginning to fade, the dark ring around his right eye taking its time to heal. I silently hissed at the sight of him. “What.”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize. Brad talked to me the other day and… made me realize that what I did was really fucked up. Really, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You’re so fucking lucky I haven’t called the police on you, Ricky-”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, discreetly rolling his eyes. “And I really appreciate it. Gives me a chance to better myself, you know? Help you better yourself. And what better way to make up for what I did than to make homecoming the most magical night for you? Yeah? We still on for tonight?”

My eyes dangerously widened at his hopeful smile, his expression melting under my fiery stare. “Are you kidding me?! Hell no! You think I wanna be anywhere near you?!”

“(Y/N)-”

“Besides, I already have another date.” I shrugged and moved to duck under his arm, but he leaned against the doorframe to decline me access inside. I quickly backed away from him, my fear kicking in at his brash behavior.

“What, Stan The Faggot? You’re really going with that fucking twink when you could be going with me?” He laughed right in my face. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.

“Don’t ever speak about Stanley that way. He’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met and is an even better boyfriend than you’ll ever be to anyone-”

“Boyfriend?!” He cackled. “I knew it. How could I not? It was so obvious! You’re fucking crazy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You don’t see the way he dresses? He’s fucking weird, (Y/N). He’s a goddamn drug dealer. What is he gonna offer you? Huh? Free weed? Babe… Come on, you are so better off with me.”

He lightly shook his head with a smile of disbelief as I took out my phone. “I just remembered. You’re not supposed to be near me, talking to me, or even looking at me. I think Jacob would love to hear about this-”

“Fuck you.” Ricky hissed before stomping away, leaving me in an empty hallway that was filled with the ringing of the tardy bell not too long afterwards. At that point, I was just about sick of guys. I was irritable during gym class, running off my anger and letting it steam off my shoulders. When the coach told us we could stop, I took greedy gulps of air and trudged to a nearby bench to rest. As I plopped down, I noticed Syd and Dina walking together to the opposite side of the field. It was good to know they were to finally talk everything out. Now for her and Stan to make up…

I was thankful for a split second for the shadow that casted over the burning sun raining down on me, but huffed upon seeing who it was. Some guy from my math class stood before me. He was shirtless, displaying his six-pack and chest glistening with sweat. He beamed down at me with a suave smirk. “Hey, Zip.”

“Hey.”

“So… I know you and Ricky are… you know. So, since the dance is tonight-”

“Sorry, I already have a date.”

“Right,” He nodded slowly, beginning to back away. “I should’ve known. No worries.”

-------------------------------------------------

“And he just walked away?!” Stan laughed on our drive home from school. My hold on his hand tightened as I tried to hold in my own laugh.

“No, he ran away!” I snorted, triggering the increase of his laughter.

“What is that, the fourth guy today?”

“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled up to my house. Unbuckling myself, I froze at Stan’s intentuous stare. He reached over and grabbed my hand again, raising it to his lips.

“I expect you to dazzle everyone like you usually do.” He kissed my knuckles.

My breath hitched. “Of course. And I expect you to do better than me, like you usually do. What time should I be ready?”

“I’m picking you up at eight. On the dot.”

“On the dot, got it.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He returned it and tilted his head to try and deepen it, but I pulled away with a giggle. Stan watched in awe as I got out of the car, snatching up my backpack as I did. Waving him off, I turned and headed inside my house.

I had to look perfect. Not just for Stan, but for me. This was a new era of myself, I had shedded my skin and materialized as something beautiful. I had to showcase just how beautiful I’ve become. So, after my shower, I struck up a playlist and dolled myself up. Starting off with my hair, I simply pinned it up with white butterfly hair clips. My makeup was nothing special, other than the baby pink eyeshadow and the small application of glitter over it. To seal up the look, I added cherry lip gloss to give my lips a bit of a pop. I hoped Stan would appreciate it. My face burned at the thought of him tasting the cherry on my mouth. Backing away from my mirror before I exploded, I entered my closet. My dress was something I never thought I would ever wear. It matched my makeup in baby pink. An off-the-shoulder look that hugged my torso and flared out to the floor. I managed to zip it up myself before slipping on a pair of white heels. Turning to my reflection, I let out a breath.

I had never looked any more beautiful, I think. I remember gazing at my parents’ wedding photo as a child and wishing to look as beautiful as my mother one day. I wondered if she was looking down at me, proud of who I had become at that point. Gazing fondly down at the ring on my pinky, I blinked back the stinging of my tears.

Yeah, she’s proud.

An eager three knocks sounded at my door and I hurried to open it. Pam immediately teared up the moment her eyes settled on me, camera ready in her hand. “Oh, my baby… You look so gorgeous! Just like your mom!” She gushed. I could only chuckle as she took multiple pictures of me. Hearing a taunting laugh, I looked down the hall to see Jacob leaning against the wall, silently mocking his mother’s excitement. I kindly showed my middle finger to him, much to Pam’s disappointment. “Oh, come on. Now it’s in the picture! Jake, leave your sister alone!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He feigned innocence and batted his eyelashes at me. I playfully sneered at him before David’s voice sounded from downstairs.

“(Y/N), Stan is here!”

Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. Eight o’clock. On the dot. That punctual bastard. Clutching my phone in my hand, I nervously made my way to the top of the stairs. Everyone was waiting for me at the bottom, including Stan. God, he looked so cute. He was wearing his baby blue suit, some sort of black and tan shirt beneath that oddly went well with the suit. Leave it to Stan to defy the laws of fashion. I could tell he paid extra care to his hair, the way it was styled perfectly for his curls to sit off to the left side of his forehead. I was sure I was grinning like a maniac as I descended the stairs, but Stan’s expression was the reason I was grinning. He looked absolutely astonished and at a loss for words. His jaw was dropped and eyes were bulging as he watched me walk closer to him. When I quietly greeted him, he couldn’t even respond. Great job, (Y/N), you broke him.

“How’d I do?” I whispered and hooked arms with him. At my touch, he snapped out of his haze and beamed at me.

“You certainly did not disappoint, lovely.”

“Awe, and you aren’t looking too bad yourself, beautiful.”

Pam squealed from the sidelines before rushing over to us. “Stanley, doesn’t she look stunning?”

“Absolutely, Aunt Pam.” He grinned at the older woman as she began taking photo after photo of us. We decided to indulge her and pose for each one. All the while, I felt a red hot glare from the side. Glancing its way, I noticed Jacob fuming at the sight of Stan and I hugged up on each other. His Big Brother Mode was going to activate the second Pam was done with us. To my horror, she finished sooner than I thought. As she excitedly showed our photos to David, I watched as Jacob slowly approached us. Just as he opened his mouth to spit some sort of threat towards the poor, unsuspecting Stan, I turned to the front door and flung it open.

“Well, we really have to go! We’re already late, you know.” I chuckled and gently shoved Stan out of the house.

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Pam called out after us. “You two be careful out there! And have fun!”

“And (Y/N)-” Jacob began to add in a warning, but I waved him off, mouthing an ‘I know’ as Stan scrambled to hold the car door open for me. I quietly thanked him and climbed inside. The car ride to the dance was very pleasant. The hum of soft rock music fit the mood of our night as we quietly sang along. Stan found a parking spot rather quickly and leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. Bringing the visor down, I checked myself in the mirror, gently running my fingers over my white gold hoop earrings gifted to me by my dad for my previous birthday. They were pretty expensive and I hardly wore them, so why not? Hearing a click, I turned to see Stan lighting up a joint. After he took a hit, he looked my way and smiled, offering it to me. Without any hesitation, I joined him in a quick session. As I took my third hit, I felt his eyes on me.

“What?” I raised a brow and exhaled the smoke. His eyes shown in adoration.

“What a sight you are…”

“A sight? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re sitting in my old-school car, looking like a goddess and smoking a joint. You’re so beautiful… Just perfection.”

“Jeez, maybe I should get dolled up to smoke more often.” I joked and handed it back to him. We shared a chuckle before Stan put the smoke out. He gave me a wink before getting out of the car and rounding it to let me out.

Our highs kicked in the moment we stepped into the gymnasium. Our clammy hands found each other as we walked further in. I let him lead me through the sea of dancing bodies and bouncing balloons, the two of us hitting them out of our way as we ended up near the bleachers. When we stopped, we overlooked the scene before us as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Best theater in town, Stan.”

“Best theater in town, (Y/N),” He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “So, why aren’t you on stage?”

“I don’t perform without my co-star.”

“Well, in that case.” He took hold of both my hands and swung us around. At that, we let loose, broadcasting our best secret dance contest moves to anyone willing to watch. I thought it was perfect. The two outcasts, both outcasts for difference reasons, wildly dancing together away from everyone else. And yet, they were the life of the party. It was meant to be. My feet stung from the stomping and jumping I was doing in my heels, but I couldn’t care less.

“I fucking hate this song!” I joyfully shouted, eliciting a laugh from my date.

“Me, too!” From the sound of our laughter, it was clear the two of us were high. Three songs later, in the middle of my rounds of spinning, I felt Stan’s hands on my waist, attempting to stop me. When I did, my surroundings rotated around me and I leaned into him for support. Looking up, I saw Sydney awkwardly smiling at the both of us.

“Oh! Hey, Syd! I love your dress.” I smiled and gestured to her attire. Her smile widened.

“Thanks, (Y/N), y-you look great.”

“Awe, thanks.” I gushed and bashfully waved her off. My attention turned to Stan, who had a look of indifference on his face, but a hint of pain in his eyes. Sydney noticed it, too, and looked back at me.

“Uh… Can I borrow Stan for a second?”

“Go ahead.” I motioned. Stan stared at me for a second before following Syd onto the bleachers. I suddenly felt very out of place, so I decided to keep my hands busy and get myself some punch. Thankfully, I found Dina there, pouring herself a cup. When she noticed me, she quickly set it back down on the table and reached her arms out for a hug. “Dina, you look so good!”

“Are you kidding me?!” We engulfed each other in a tight hug before pulling away. “You look fucking amazing! You always have to show out, huh?”

“I try…” I lowered my voice. As the two of us talked, lonely guys would come up to us and ask to dance, but we would hold hands and politely decline. After the third walked away, Dina turned to me.

“Hey, so… In detention… The thing that Jenny said about Ricky. Was that true…?” The hesitancy in her voice made me deeply inhale as I nodded in confirmation. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears as her hands covered her mouth. “(Y/N)... I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve been there for you.”

“No, no, Dina!” I quickly took her hands into mine, my heart wrenching. “It’s okay! I’m okay…”

“You’re okay? H-How are you okay?” She frowned and blinked back her tears. A warm smile twitched its way onto my face.

“Stan… he’s been making everything better…” I admitted. Dina’s face lit up before she hugged me all over again.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so happy for you! God, you fucking deserve it, girl!” She exclaimed as I hugged back, quietly laughing at her excitement. Our hug was cut short, when Dina caught sight of our dates heading toward us. I turned to them and happily watched as they approached us, their hands lazily clasped together. Sydney held out Stan’s hand over to mine and I gladly took over. “Stan!” Dina grinned at him as he allowed me to lean against his side.

“Dina, you look, um… you look like a Christmas tree.” He awkwardly complimented as I rolled my eyes. Dina looked down at herself.

“Thanks, dude.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded before his eye caught something. “Oh, god. Whitaker’s still watching us.” He sighed. We directed our gaze to our principal, who indeed was standing across the gym, arms folded and a piercing gaze on the four of us.

“It’s probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.” Sydney crossed her arms, as well, as we all grinned. Stan leaned forward and placed his other hand over ours as he hummed.

“I don’t know, guys. I mean, we’re wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?”

“We don’t have any loot, Stan.” I raised a brow in false confusion as Dina smirked at me.

“Yeah, all we did was disrespect this fine institution.”

“And disrespect ourselves.” Sydney finished, Stan humming again before we all shared a soft laugh. Stan’s smile disappeared as a slow song came on. I barely recognized it, but he sure seemed to know it. His free hand reached up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, no. On principle, I just- I can’t,” He groaned and began to free himself from my grasp. “Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I’ll- I’ll be back.” He squeezed between Syd and I to leave, but I followed right behind. He was nearly at the DJ table, when I managed to stop his striding.

“Stan! Stan, wait!” I laughed and turned him to me. “Come on, I wanna dance to this.”

“(Y/N), I have to enlighten that poor DJ over there.”

“After this song?” I pouted and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t care about the music. I’ll dance to anything with you.”

“That is a lie, but fine,” He sighed before his hands rested on my waist. Our dance started off with timid shuffling, Stan clearly not used to slow dancing. I chuckled and directed his eyes away from his shoes.

“Stan, it’s just swaying, I promise.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look before moving with me to the music. Of course, since it’s Stan, he had to add in a few spins that had us stumbling. We laughed aloud when we almost toppled over, and we earned a few weird stares, but we didn’t give a shit. Just as it seemed we were getting the hang of it, a voice that rang throughout the gym interrupted the song and dance.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr File announced from the stage. “If I may have your attention. Stop talking. Look up here please.”

“Thank god, they stopped the song.” Stan whispered in my ear as we turned to the stage. I playfully and gently hit his chest as our teacher continued.

“It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!”

As the homecoming royalty hopped on stage, we all clapped and cheered for them, Stan and I exchanging looks that said ‘I have no idea who these people are’. “What up, Westinghouse!” Jeff exclaimed into the microphone, his queen by his side, the both of them wearing sashes and crowns. “Yeah! Where my boys at? Whoo! Where do I begin? I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-”

His amusing speech was cut off by Bradley Lewis running onstage and clamping his hand over the mic. “Listen up!” He yelled as the feedback screeched. Our smiles dropped as he swayed, clearly drunk. As Mr File tried to take the mic from him, he thrashed about and moved away. “Give me a second! I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here.”

“What the fuck…?” I muttered and watched as he turned to the middle of the crowd.

“Sydney Novak!” His exclamation sent a flinch through Stan and I, and I felt him tense under my hold on his arm. “Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand! Give a wave so everybody can see you!” When she didn’t comply, he moved on, proceeding to pull out Sydney’s supposed diary and flipping through it, exposing all of her secrets to the whole school. He told about how at Ricky’s party, she had kissed Dina upstairs. As he spoke, he hopped off the stage and pushed past people to stalk closer to his victim, the path to her and Dina made clear. I could see the panic in Sydney’s eyes. My blood boiled at the derogatory term he used for her sexuality, but Stan was just about ready to pop. His jaw was severely clenched and his face was flushed red in anger. I felt him move forward, but kept an arm in front of him. But there was no holding him back after the next thing Brad exposed. “And my god, don’t even get me started on the daddy issues on this one. I mean, it’s fucking worse than Zip’s! And we all know about that!” That comment punched me straight in the gut and Stan ripped his arm from my hold, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone in Sydney’s life thinks that she’s a piece of shit. And I mean everyone!” His cackling was interrupted when Stan broke through everyone.

“Hey, man! Leave her alone!” He went to stand in front of his friend, but Brad immediately swung, his fist connecting with Stan’s face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. My breathing stuttered before I wordlessly shoved everyone out of the way, trying to get to his limp form. There were a few people separating us that wouldn’t budge. I growled as Brad continued, shaking his fist from the blow.

“But that is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney… Novak,” He took a few steps forward, and I watched as Sydney wiped a tear from her eye. This whole situation was fucked. “Get this. Sydney claims that she has-”

To this day, I have no fucking clue how it happened, but Brad’s words were cut short when his blood and brains exploded onto everyone near him. Including me. I heard nothing but white noise the second the blood platter smacked into my hair, onto my face, my dress, my shoes. Brad’s headless body fell limp to the ground, the remaining of his brains spilling out from where his head should have been. His head should’ve been there… His head should be there! I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My eyes were glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground. I was sure everyone was screaming and running around, but I couldn’t do the same. I saw shaking Dina’s form, trembling as she moved, but my focus snapped right back to the fucking corpse. I should’ve moved. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve ran. I should have been crying and gagging and panicking, but I just… I couldn’t. I don’t know what the fuck.

“(Y/N)!” I felt a hand pulling me by the arm, but I was in such a state of shock that I blindly let whoever drag me out of the school- no, the crime scene. I felt the cool air nip at my exposed skin, but I still couldn’t have been bothered to react to anything. It wasn’t until I felt a piece of bloody meat slip down my face and disappear into my dress that I could breathe again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt it run down my skin.

“It’s in my dress! It’s touching me!” I cried. The mess of curls in front of me whipped around to face me. Through my teary-eyed vision, I could make out that it was Stan. He was awake, he was fine. But I wasn’t.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?!”

“It’s in my fucking dress!” I gagged as I felt it run down my stomach. “Stan, a piece of his fucking brain-”

He firmly grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me to his car. I hyperventilated as he placed me in the passenger seat. Before closing the door, he reached into my dress from the bottom and slid his hand from my knees, past my thighs and planted his palm on my stomach. He gagged when his hand touched the meat, grabbing hold of it and ripping his hand from my dress, throwing the flesh to the ground. Stumbling a bit, he shut my door and rounded the car to drive. I had to ride with my window down, letting the wind blow against my face to prevent the contents in my stomach from resurfacing into Stan’s car. He drove all around town, calling out for Sydney. He would glance over at me every once and awhile when I would gag or groan, but that was it.

What a sight I was.

Do I look beautiful now, Stan?

-------------------------------------------------

When Stan decided to give up on the search for Sydney, he sped us to his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances echoed within my empty mind. But the moment I left the car, I hurled my guts up into Stan’s yard. He caught me before I could fall and rubbed my back until I emptied my stomach. Then when I was done, I did the same for him.

I had no concept of time, I can’t remember how long we were throwing up in his front lawn, but when we were done, he guided me inside the house and down to his room. The second he let go of me to retrieve new clothes, my entire body trembled and shook uncontrollably. “S-Stan… S-S-Stan.” I whimpered out. He returned to me with clothes tucked under one of his arms. He held me by the elbow and guided me to his bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet lid before starting up the shower for me.

“Nugget? Hey, do you want me to-”

“N-No.” I don’t know why I said that. I needed him in that room with me. He was patient enough to look away as I undressed, nearly falling a few times, and stepped into the shower. He left the door slightly ajar, so I was sure he could hear my sobbing as I sat down, letting the water rinse me of Bradley Lewis’s blood and guts.

I returned to Stan in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He stood from his bed and carefully watched the way I moved. The way I slowly blinked and walked two steps at a time toward him. Silently, he lifted his covers for me to lay down. I stared at him emptily for a few beats before complying, my back facing him. I felt his lips on my neck and gladly welcomed the kiss before he whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna shower now, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Go ahead.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. As Stan showered, my shaking hands reached up and freed my locks from my hair clips. I tried to keep my crying near-silent as I did so, but I wasn’t too sure how loud I was being. Within time, he had returned and laid down beside me in bed. And from the warmth I felt when his back touched mine, I could tell he was shirtless. It was painfully silent as we both unevenly breathed. I bit my fingers to keep myself from crying again. Everything about me felt unbalanced. I wanted to be beaten even. It’s what I deserved for not taking care of myself.

“Hey.” Stan’s whisper broke my train of thought.

“H-Hey…”

“You asleep?”

“No… You?”

“No.” He muttered as I felt the bed dip when he turned around to spoon me. His leg draped over mine as his arms pulled me closer. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck as he deeply inhaled. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ask the question brewing in my mind,

“Do you have any idea what the fuck happened? B-Brad just… h-he fucking…”

“I know,” He murmured against my skin, his hold tightening as well as his throat. I could tell by the way he choked on his breath. “I… I’ll explain it another day. N-Not tonight.”

As we fell asleep an hour later, I knew he’d never explain it.

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @magicalgothpandamaker

#i am not okay with this #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt #ianowt x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #forever and never

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brookewritesyk · 4 years ago

Text

o n e

Warnings- Swearing

2016 Words

───── 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝗼𝐧 ─────

𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 since the Goodmans family last saw Charlie-Rose. Charlie was always a very pretty girl or female as Martin would say. Since a young age, she's had the aspiration to become an actress. Not because of the fame and wealth that came with it if she made it big, unlike most people.

You may be wondering who are the Goodmans? The Goodmans were a family of 4 and Jonny Goodman was her best friend up until near the end of high school when she had to move. Deep down Charlie knew she always felt something for Jonny that was more than just friendship. That explains why she is sitting in a taxi with nerves coursing through her.

She was going to see the Goodmans again.

───── 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝗼𝗼𝐝𝗺𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐬𝐞 ─────

"For someone who doesn't stop going on about formula 1 your surprisingly shit at driving," Adam commented getting out of Jonny's car. "Like seriously no control of the vehicle."

"No control of the vehicle?" Jonny repeated offended. Then the car alarm went off and Adam gave Jonny the I-told-you-so look.

Whilst continuing bickering they walked towards their parents' front door and they noticed it was left open.

"Why is the door open?" Adam asked puzzled.

Not answering, Jonny went and fully opened the door to find Wilson, their neighbour's dog sitting on the carpet.

"Hello", Jim, the neighbour said slightly surprised whilst coming out of the bathroom and to see Adam and Jonny were there.

"Uhh hi Jim," Adam said but it sounded like a question as he was getting more confused.

"Jonny?" He asked unsurely and slightly tilting his head.

"I'm Adam," Adam replied getting annoyed.

"I'm Jonny.." The younger brother said dumbfoundedly.

"Why are you..." Adam trailed off.

"Hmm?" Jim mumbled trying to avoid answering the question.

"Nothing." Adam sighed knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

Cautiously, Jim went to pick up Wilson's lead and flinching while the brothers looked at each other confused and bewildered. Then Jim went through the boys to leave.

"Right.." Adam said whilst closing the door. "That wasn't strange."

Still confused, they went through the house to find their parents in the garage.

"Hi, mum." Jonny greeted blankly.

"Hi." The older brother sang.

"Hi boys," Jackie responded distractedly.

"What are you doing in the garage?" Jonny asked.

"We're having a clear-out," Jackie explained now looking at the boys.

"Don't you mean what's Jim doing in our loo?" Adam joked whilst smiling.

"Martin you do know the boys are here, say 'hello'," Jackie told Martin and not answering the question.

"What?" Martin asked pointing to his hearing aid then turned around and said: "Oh hello bambinos."

"No top tonight?" Jonny jokingly asked.

"He's boiling," Jackie said.

"I'm boiling," Martin said louder thinking that Jonny didn't hear Jackie,

"Well, you're going to have to put a top on soon as we have a guest coming." Jackie reminded Martin whilst pointing to his naked chest. Then they all went to the kitchen.

Both of the boys groaned they didn't like guests coming over on a Friday night. "Why didn't you tell us there was going to be a bloody guest!" Adam complained.

"Because it's a surprise!" Jackie explained excitedly.

"So who is it?" Jonny asked whilst opening the fridge getting the whipped cream and squirting it directly into his mouth.

"Stop eating cream, its an old family friend." Jackie hinted vaguely whilst smiling wickedly and started to stir the soup.

"Well, that wasn't vague," Adam smirked sarcastically and eating bread.

"So when is Lily coming?" Martin asked from coming downstairs finally having a shirt on.

"Lily?" Asked Adam and Jonny at the same time.

"Lily? No, its Charlie. Charlie-Rose Evans." Jackie reminded her husband annoyed.

"Wait, Charlie-Rose is coming here?" Jonny asked shocked and slightly blushing.

"Yes I got in touch with her on Tuesday and I invited her over for dinner," Jackie explained.

"The Charlie-Rose Evans is coming over, the one Pissface had a massive crush on?" Adam said excitedly knowing he could take the piss out of him for the night.

"Used too, in year 10 before she had to move to Paris," Jonny defended "Plus I've got a girlfriend, Allison."

"That's never been proved," Adam stated.

"You're just jealous that I have a girlfriend," Jonny argued.

"Yes, I'm jealous that you have a girlfriend which you share with another man." Adam sarcastically agreed.

"Simon is not her boyfriend!" Jonny huffed.

Then the door went.

"Oh my God, that will be her!" Jackie exclaimed whilst excitingly clapping her hands and rushing to the front door.

"Hello, Char- Oh hi Jim," Jackie said disappointed. "IT'S NOT CHARLIE EVERYONE, IT NOT CHARLIE!" Jackie loudly informed everyone and turning her head down the hall then turned her attention back to Jim who was trying to spray breath mints but played it off as glasses cleaner.

"Nice and shiny," Jim commented whilst fastly whipping his glasses with a cloth.

"Right, sorry Jim what do you need?" Jackie asked fake smiling.

"Yes I was wondering if you had any soy sauce, I ran out and need some for my ice-cream," Jim explained while trying to stroke Wilson but flinching away.

"Ok, Jonny!" Jackie called.

"What mum?" Jonny asked annoyed walking up behind his mum.

"Could you get the soy sauce from the cupboard?" Jackie asked disturbed.

"Sure." Jonny agreed yet confused so he went to the kitchen and grabbed the sauce and lazily gave it to Jim then went back in the living room.

Then the door went again.

"I swear to God if that's Jim-" Jackie muttered whilst opening the door again to realise it wasn't Jim it was Charlie-Rose. "Oh, hello love! Aww, it's been ages how are you and how was Paris?" She asked excitedly.

"Hi, Jackie I'm doing great! Paris was magnifique. In my apartment, I had a perfect view of the Effiel Tower but it's good to be back home." Charlie explained cheerfully.

"That sounds amazing." Jackie tutted happily and guided Charlie through to the living room. "Boys guess who's here!"

"The lady strangler?" Adam joked thinking it was Jim as he was focused on his phone.

"Horrible Adam! No look." Jackie insisted.

"Oh my-" Jonny breathed shocked.

Charlie had long flowing brunette hair and hazel eyes which complemented her perfect pale skin. She was wearing minimalistic makeup and an off-white leather jacket and a white dress with blue vines on it.

"Hi, Pusface." Charlie joked smiling.

"Great that's still stuck." Adam mumbled, "Hey Paris hows it been?"

"It's been going good and original nickname. Quick question do you write jingles now?" Charlie asked unsurely.

"Uhhh yeah how did you know?" Adam asked caught off guard.

"Right I thought it was one of yours as I heard one in a cafe in Paris." She explained.

"Wow, the shit composer made it all the way to Paris." Jonny joked "H-hi Charlie.." Greeted shyly by Jonny who forgot Charlie was actually there.

"Still haven't matured have we Pissface?" You teased going in for a hug.

"You know I haven't." Jonny laughed returning the hug.

Suddenly, Charlie-Rose started to kiss both of Jonny's cheeks which caused Jonny to blush furiously and Charlie pulled away and quickly said: "Oh my God I'm so sorry I forgot in Paris you-"

"Don't worry about it." Jonny comforted rubbing her arm.

Then Martin walked in, not wearing a top again.

"Martin," Jackie moaned.

"But Jackie, oh hello, Bambina!" Martin happily greeted and surprisingly hugged her.

"Who knew dad was capable of emotions," Adam said amused.

"Yeah who knew?" Jonny laughed.

"So how was Italy?" Martin asked pulling away and fiddling with his hearing aid.

"Italy?" Jackie asked.

"Italy?" Adam asked as well at the same time as his mum but louder.

"Yeah, she went to Italy didn't she?" Martin asked in clarification.

"Umm no I went to Paris, you know France," Charlie explained perplexed.

"Oh right," Martin said nodding.

"Sorry about that love, so how is the acting thing going?" Jackie asked intrigued whilst sitting down on the sofa along with everyone else.

"It's going well I've been in a few adverts here and there but still just looking for auditions," Charlie explained, happy and surprised that she remembered.

"Aww, little Charlie-Rose is a celebrity," Jackie said with pure excitement.

"Well not yet." Charlie joked while smirking.

"Charlie-Rose?" Martin said

"Yes?" She replied sweetly turning around to face him.

"Any males?" Martin asked.

"Males?" Charlie looked at Adam and Jonny confused.

"Have you been seeing a guy," Jackie explained rolling her eyes at Martin.

"Oh umm, not at the moment no." She said slightly sad.

"Are you a homosexual?" Martin asked.

"Dad!" Adam moaned.

"What? She's a pretty female if she hasn't got a male she must have a female." Martin logically explained

"No I-I'm not gay just haven't found the right guy yet," Charlie answered.

"If that's the case I could set you up with-" Jackie started to offer until Jonny protectively declared, "Mum set me and Adam up all you like with someone but not Charlie."

"Rather protective for someone who's got a girlfriend," Adam commented snidely. "Oh sorry, you don't as she doesn't exist." He corrected himself.

"Shut up Pusface, she does exist and she's amazing!" Jonny exclaimed a bit too defensively.

"Boys enough we have a bloody guest!" Jackie shouted at them "Sorry about them sweetie come through to dinner."

In the midst of it all, Charlie-Rose's heart sank at the idea of her best friend being with someone who wasn't her.

───── 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 ─────

"So where should I sit?" Charlie asked as Martin sat next to Jackie.

"Oh, you can sit next to Martin or Adam." Jackie offered using her knife to point to the empty seats.

"Ok great." She replied happily and sat next to Martin who was eating his roast.

"Jackie?" Martin said.

"Hmmm.." Jackie responded

"This is a lovely bit of squirrel." Martin calmly stated then bursts out in hysterics along with Jackie.

After calming down Jackie asked looking over at Jonny, "So are you going to tell me why she couldn't come tonight?"

"Hmmm?" Jonny asked back in response and carried on eating.

"Allison?" Jackie rolled her eyes getting frustrated.

"You know your pretend girlfriend." Adam mock informed Jonny.

"I'm not having the conversation with you right now," Jonny said looking at Jackie dead in the eye.

"Why not, has something happened?" Jackie whined disappointed.

"As I haven't seen Charlie in at least 5 years and I don't really want to talk about my girlfriend while she's here and make her uncomfortable," Jonny explained thoughtfully.

"Awww, Jonny-boo fine but only tonight." Jackie cooed

"Thank you!" Jonny sighed. "So what else did you get up into Paris?" Jonny asked trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Well I went up the Eiffel Tower which was fun, did a Coco Channel advert and I went to the Louvre." Charlie listed.

"Is that the museum that takes like 3 days to see it all of it?" Marin asked.

"Yeah, it was long but definitely worth it." You told Martin.

───── 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝗺𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝗺𝐛𝐥𝐞 ─────

"Crimble crumble!" Jackie said excitedly.

"That crumble looks dry, good thing we've got water." Jonny suspiciously commented.

"What?" Charlie asked confused but in response, Jonny just did the hush symbol at her and he repeated: "Nothing I'm just saying luckily we have water."

"Oh, I know what you have done!" Adam said pointing at him and took Jonny's glass and drank from it and quickly realised "You put salt in your cup!"

"Oh my god, you still do that!" Charlie said after recovering from her fit of laughter.

"Yep." They both said in unison but in different tones.

───── 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ─────

Whilst walking out of the Goodman residence Jonny stopped and looked at Charlie and said: "I really missed you."

"I missed you too," Charlie-Rose replied.

Then Jonny went in to hug her and murmured in her ear "Please come over again next week."

Smiling she said "Of course"

#jonny goodman #friday night dinner #adam goodman #x reader #e4 #channel 4

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 4 years ago

Text

🕊 Melville and Hawthorne

I remember when one of our mutuals received submission from an anonymous named Dove. I remember that insider mentioned many things about the girls but he also spoke about a particular character whose life caught my attention. Herman Melville. Melville was a New York poet who fell madly in love with another writer named Nathaniel Hawthorne. They had a very intense love affair, but it had to be hidden because it was the 19th century and homosexual love was forbidden. But it was not forbidden to write about it. This is an article from the page:

https://www.brainpickings.org/2019/02/13/herman-melville-nathaniel-hawthorne-love-letters/

Herman Melville’s Passionate, Beautiful, Heartbreaking Love Letters to Nathaniel Hawthorne:

“Your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.”

BY MARIA POPOVA The summer when nineteen-year-old Emily Dickinson met the love of her life — the orphaned mathematician-in-training Susan Gilbert, who would come to be the poet’s greatest muse, her mentor, her primary reader and editor, her fiercest lifelong attachment, her “Only Woman in the World” — another intense, label-defying love was igniting in the heart of another literary titan-to-be some fifty miles westward. That other love unfolds alongside Dickinson’s in Figuring — a book I wrote to explore, among other existential perplexities, the bittersweet beauty of asymmetrical and half-requited loves. (This essay is adapted from the book.)

On August 5, 1850, Herman Melville met Nathaniel Hawthorne at a literary gathering in the Berkshires. Hawthorne was forty-six. The achingly shy, brooding writer, once celebrated as “handsomer than Lord Byron,” had risen to celebrity a decade earlier, much thanks to a glowing endorsement by Margaret Fuller. Melville — whose debut novel had rendered him a literary star in his twenties — had just turned thirty-one.

Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne A potent intellectual infatuation ignited between the two men — one that, at least for Melville, seems to have grown from the cerebral to the corporeal. Within days, the young author reviewed Hawthorne’s short story collection Mosses from an Old Manse in Literary World under the impersonal byline “a Virginian Spending July in Vermont.” No claim of this intentional ambiguity was true — Melville was a New Yorker, the month was August, and he was spending it in Massachusetts.

The review, nearing seven thousand words, was nothing less than an editorial serenade. “A man of a deep and noble nature has seized me in this seclusion… His wild, witch voice rings through me,” Melville wrote of reading Hawthorne’s stories in a remote farmhouse nestled in the summer foliage of the New England countryside. “The soft ravishments of the man spun me round in a web of dreams.” Melville couldn’t have known that his allusions to witchcraft, intended as compliment, had disquieting connotations for Hawthorne. Born Nathaniel Hathorne, he had added a w to the family name in order to distance himself from his ancestor John Hathorne — a leading judge involved in the Salem witch trials, who, unlike the other culpable judges, never repented of his role in the murders. Unwitting of the dark family history, Melville found himself under “this Hawthorne’s spell” — a spell cast first by his writing, then by the constellation of personal qualities from which the writing radiated. Who hasn’t fallen in love with an author in the pages of a beautiful book? And if that author, when befriended in the real world, proves to be endowed with the splendor of personhood that the writing intimates, who could resist falling in love with the whole person? Melville presaged as much:

No man can read a fine author, and relish him to his very bones, while he reads, without subsequently fancying to himself some ideal image of the man and his mind… There is no man in whom humor and love are developed in that high form called genius; no such man can exist without also possessing, as the indispensable complement of these, a great, deep intellect, which drops down into the universe like a plummet. Or, love and humor are only the eyes, through which such an intellect views this world. The great beauty in such a mind is but the product of its strength.

After comparing Hawthorne to Shakespeare, he writes:

In this world of lies, Truth is forced to fly like a scared white doe in the woodlands; and only by cunning glimpses will she reveal herself, as in Shakespeare and other masters of the great Art of Telling the Truth, — even though it be covertly, and by snatches./// This words came from the original 🕊 wrote

“I am Posterity speaking by proxy,” Melville bellows from the page, “when I declare — that the American, who up to the present day, has evinced, in Literature, the largest brain with the largest heart, that man is Nathaniel Hawthorne.” In an aside on the process of composing his review, he notes that twenty-four hours into writing, he found himself “charged more and more with love and admiration of Hawthorne.” Quoting an especially beguiling line of Hawthorne’s, he insists that “such touches… can not proceed from any common heart.” No, they bespeak “such a depth of tenderness, such a boundless sympathy with all forms of being, such an omnipresent love” that they render their author singular in his generation — as singular as the place he would come to occupy in Melville’s heart.

Hawthorne’s home, Old Manse. Concord, Massachusetts. (Boston Public Library.) Fervid correspondence and frequent visits followed over the next few months. Only ten of Melville’s letters to Hawthorne survive, but their houses were just six miles apart and they saw each other quite often — “discussing the Universe with a bottle of brandy & cigars,” as Melville put it in one invitation, and talking deep into the night about “time and eternity, things of this world and of the next, and books, and publishers, and all possible and impossible matters,” as Hawthorne recounted in his diary. Punctuating the invisible log of all that was written but destroyed is all that was spoken but unwritten, all that was felt but unspoken.

Melville’s ardor was most acute during the period of writing Moby-Dick, which he dedicated to Hawthorne. Printed immediately after the title page was “In Token of My Admiration for his Genius, This Book is Inscribed to Nathaniel [sic] Hawthorne.”

(The two lovers lived very close to each other, isn’t sounds familiar folks?)

Art by Matt Kish from Moby-Dick in Pictures: One Drawing for Every Page One November evening over dinner, a restlessly excited Herman presented Nathaniel with a lovingly inscribed copy of the novel whose now-legendary protagonist sails from Nantucket into the existential unknown. I can picture the brooding Hawthorne turning the leaf and suppressing a beam of delight upon discovering the printed dedication. In the following century, Virginia Woolf would perform a similar gesture with her groundbreaking, gender-bending novel Orlando, inspired by her lover Vita Sackville-West and later described by Vita’s son as “the longest and most charming love letter in literature.” On the day of Orlando’s publication, Vita would receive a package containing not only the printed book, but also Virginia’s original manuscript, bound specially for her in Niger leather and stamped with her initials on the spine.

But after the elated private presentation, a very different public fate awaited Moby-Dick. Its 1851 publication was met with a damning review in New York’s Literary World, which set the tone for its American reception and precipitated its decades-long plunge into obscurity. The reviewer’s chief complaint was that the novel “violated and defaced” “the most sacred associations of life”—an indictment aimed at the homoeroticism of Melville’s choice to depict Ishmael and Queequeg as sharing a “marriage bed” in which they awaken with their arms around each other.

Queequeg’s favorite dish, cooked and photographed by artist Dinah Fried for her project Fictitious Dishes: An Album of Literature’s Most Memorable Meals. Ten days later, Hawthorne lamented the obtuseness of the review and praised Moby-Dick as Melville’s best work yet. Touched to the point of delirium by this “exultation-breeding letter,” Melville hastened to reply:

Your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… It is a strange feeling — no hopefulness is in it, no despair. Content — that is it; and irresponsibility; but without licentious inclination. I speak now of my profoundest sense of being, not of an incidental feeling.

Whence come you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips — lo, they are yours and not mine. I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces.

Aware of how his intemperate fervor might incinerate his relationship with the cooler-tempered Hawthorne, Melville reasons with himself for a moment, then chooses to abandon reason:

My dear Hawthorne, the atmospheric skepticisms steal into me now, and make me doubtful of my sanity in writing you thus. But, believe me, I am not mad, most noble Festus! But truth is ever incoherent, and when the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning.

After signing, he adds a feverish postscript:

I can’t stop yet. If the world was entirely made up of [magicians], I’ll tell you what I should do. I should have a paper-mill established at one end of the house, and so have an endless riband of foolscap rolling in upon my desk; and upon that endless riband I should write a thousand — a million — billion thoughts, all under the form of a letter to you. The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds. Which is the biggest? A foolish question — they are One.

The intensity proved too concussing for Hawthorne — he pulled away from the divine magnet. Melville seems to have presaged the eclipse of their relationship in the review in which the magnetism had begun:

It is that blackness in Hawthorne… that so fixes and fascinates me. It may be, nevertheless, that it is too largely developed in him. Perhaps he does not give us a ray of his light for every shade of his dark.

As Hawthorne retreated into his cool darkness, Melville suffered with the singular anguish of unreturned ardor—anguish that stayed with him for the remaining four decades of his life, for he eulogized it in one of his last poems, “Monody,” penned in his final year:

To have known him, to have loved him, After loneness long; And then to be estranged in life, And neither in the wrong; And now for death to set his seal — Ease me, a little ease, my song!

By wintry hills his hermit-mound The sheeted snow-drifts drape, And houseless there the snow-bird flits Beneath the fir-tree’s crape: Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine That hid the shyest grape.

Herman Melville in his final years. Meanwhile, the gaps of the invisible and the unspoken are filled with posterity’s questions about specifics that vibrate with the universal: What happened between Melville and Hawthorne in the unrecorded hours? Why did Nathaniel ultimately repel the divine magnet of Herman’s love? Most probably, we’ll never know. Possibly, they themselves never fully did. It is almost banal to say, yet it needs to be said: No one ever knows, nor therefore has grounds to judge, what goes on between two people, often not even the people themselves, half-opaque as we are to ourselves. One thing is certain: The quotient of intimacy cannot be contained in a label. The human heart is an ancient beast that roars and purrs with the same passions, whatever labels we may give them. We are so anxious to classify and categorize, both nature and human nature. It is a beautiful impulse — to contain the infinite in the finite, to wrest order from the chaos, to construct a foothold so we may climb toward higher truth. It is also a limiting one, for in naming things we often come to mistake the names for the things themselves. The labels we give to the loves of which we are capable — varied and vigorously transfigured from one kind into another and back again — cannot begin to contain the complexity of feeling that can flow between two hearts and the bodies that contain them.

_____

I don't think I can add anything to what Maria described that doesn't remind me of Camren. Or Camila. Sometimes I feel that Lauren and Camila are two reincarnated souls of former lovers who could never live their love in freedom, even these days. Where the love between homosexual couples will always be condemned and criticized and hated and will have to continue living in the shadows having only freedom in song lyrics, in poetry, literature, cinema. How much more time will it take for those ancient reincarnated lovers to live in freedom? In how many more generations can they really be free? I do not know. I only know that I hope I don't die before I get to see it Thanks Dove, whoever you were for showing us that story. If you read this, we are still here supporting the girls and that hidden love.

#dove #herman melville #nathaniel hawthorne #love story #poets #camren #forbidden love

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thecandywrites · 4 years ago

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Blood For Gold Part 12

Wow, my personal life has taken some hits lately, things are going sideways and I've gone through some loss and am about to experience a lot more. And this has been one of my few saving graces in dealing with all of it.

So. Let's go from bad to worse and from big to overwhelming shall we? introducing some new characters. to the right of Ramsey, Audra's mother's mother- Loreiris aka The Saharan Viper. Her parents, Jodhaa and Akbar (I know, super original right? I love that movie) then Akbar's mother, Rahelle. To the right of her, The Jade Empress/Sultana- aka Grandma Anavia, then Audra's heir father- Leucordorize, aka Cory, and his wife, below him, Maradiem.

As always, thanks to @kriskukko for sharing that regency orc art with me. And to @punkhorse96 for all of your wonderful feedback.

Blood For Gold

Part 12

You barely had your “gifts” moved to Amara’s room and had your “Will” in her possession by the time Axal came back and crashed into your bed.

“And?” You asked as you sat in your room and took off your jewelry and makeup at the vanity.

“And the reason Audrey Rogers is his favorite is because she has a double headed, polished red jade dildo that she wears in a harness and rams him with it, just, balls to the wall, rails him with it, railed me with it too, it was glorious.” Axal proclaimed proudly as you dropped your earrings onto the surface of the vanity.

“What?” You blanched, completely taken off guard by that revelation.

“Ramsey loves both men and women, but he is much more preferential to men and if I may be so bold, is very preferential to me. Lucky me, lucky, lucky me.” Axal cooed as he rolled over to look at you through the mirror and even from here you could see the beginnings of hickeys on his skin, despite his high collar on his borrowed English clothes.

“He...he likes to be railed?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, and it’s because he loves men more than women and has been...I believe the English term is a rake?” He asked.

“Yes, a boyish playboy, that’s what that means.” You confirmed.

“Well his parents are done with it and beyond fed up with it. And in an effort to shake him of his rakish ways, he claimed that you were the only one worthy of him, conveniently at your wedding to Edward, so that you were thankfully no longer on the marriage market and thus no longer available, like a pregnant woman only wanting preserved meat in a fresh produce market and even when he went to the stables, supposedly “comparing” all of them to you, and since there is only one you- Audra, he and his parents were at an impasse until you became a widow, only a year later, which Ramsey confided in me that he was not expecting at all and honestly terrified him because he thought he would have more time, on the range of three to five years, even a decade at least, but his father is pushing him, practically has a cannon to his head by the way Ramsey went on about it. Apparently when it was found out that you would be available, the calendars were marked as to when you would be available again and the ball at Havenfield was planned thusly, to encourage him and you to get together and Ramsey has been recieving coaching for a year by his father about how to properly court a moura bride based on your master. Ramsey is only pursuing you because you are, in his mind, his last and only saving grace from ruination at the hands of his parents.” Axal informed you.

“Oh...oh my gods, he has the homosexual panic in a heterosexual society then?” You asked.

“Very much so.” Axal confirmed as he winked and clicked his teeth.

“But if he likes to be railed and wants to be railed by you- then that means that he and I are at an impasse, I will never share a lover, let alone a husband with you or anyone else for that matter, it’s practically incest, even by our lax Dorierran standards, let alone the English ones. I would never stand for it and I would never be allowed to have a lover of my own here, I like to be railed, not to be the one railing necessarily and I’m turned off to the idea and by the idea.” You argued, finding aversion to the idea of railing Ramsey. Demsey Draft, if he asked nicely, perhaps, but not Ramsey.

“I know, that’s why I have a solution for all of us. So at 3C’s, there is a lady I have in mind, Buchon Octavia Lafronze.” Axal grinned.

“Octavia? Really?” You asked, intrigued at his choice.

“You see, all Ramsey needs is a public wife, a highborn lady who is preferably beautiful, to give him an heir and a spare right? And one that would play to the public right? You have no desire for that. I have always known this about you. She’s closer in age to him and she would have the right temperament and would be a better fit and her mate, Drina, could always pose as my wife if I need to do so here, I will send for them tomorrow morning. She can be here by the end of the week. You just have to play along for about a week and a half. Surely you can do that can’t you?” Axal petitioned as you realized that your circumstances weren’t nearly as dire as you thought they were as you were relieved that Ramsey was not another version of Richard, but rather...in a bind himself, and while he was desperate, he was not as malevolent as you thought he was only a few moments prior. This suddenly made more sense. It wasn’t necessarily Ramsey that perhaps sent for Calla and Bennie, it was probably and most likely his father, wanting to clear out obstacles for his son. That made the most sense.

“I can.” You decided.

“Excellent, however in the second order of business. There is no Demsey Draft at The Red Velvet Rope.” Axal declared before you turned to face him with a frown.

“What?” You asked.

“There is a guy who is called “Draft”, his real name is Kondus Rogers, he’s actually Audrey’s Rogers’ husband and he’s the one who fashioned his wife’s dildo after his own cock which is just as equally impressive, but he is a minotaur, a brahma bull minotaur at that, he’s huge, giant cloven hooves, wide impressive horns, he has to come into rooms ducked and sideways, beautiful, glorious man. But there are no other “Drafts” and certainly no Demsey’s that work there. There is only one moura orc who works there but he’s a midnight orc, like, dark, dark midnight blue orc. But his name is Louko, aka Louis Charter and his moura mark is barely a speck of gold on the back of his neck. That’s it. I went through the whole “catalog” too and looked all of them over, some more thoroughly than others.” Axal informed you as you recalled seeing a minotaur serve you that Sultan’s feast there.

“That...that’s impossible.” You shook your head no, not wanting to believe him.

“I can only tell you the truth of what I found. That is the truth and the whole truth. I would not hold anything back, especially from you. Unless The Red Velvet Rope is keeping him locked up in a high tower or locked in a dungeon or he works at two whorehouses and is really a whore for another place and he was on loan, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Axal shrugged before he got up, stretched and kissed you on the cheek.

“Goodnight Audra, I love you. Don’t do anything I would do and probably will be doing.” Axal wished you before he left your room through the secret door and made his way to Ramsey’s rooms for the night, sauntering all the way.

“He...he can’t be right.” You said to yourself in the mirror before the thought occurred to you.

Convenience and coincidence rarely went hand in hand by happenstance, unless… what if it was connected? Your gut told you that it could be. But your rationality had a hard time figuring out a way for the two to be connected, much less how.

The next day you were surprised to learn that the rest of your family had moved with haste and had somehow, by nothing short of a miracle, had gotten ahold of The Blue Blaze, a speed train meant to expedite moura bride’s travel on the continent that traveled twice as fast as the normal steam trains and had somehow bypassed every other train, even the Orient Express trains, which were delayed by half a day so that The Blue Blaze could pass and supersede them and you felt like you were being led to the gallows the way you had been immediately prepared for your family’s arrival and your nerves were beyond frayed and you were consumed with anxiety because your gut was screaming at you that you needed to flee now before you could face your mother’s shame that you had been defeated in only a year and a half. Moura’s were bred and prepared to live in circumstances much graver than yours had been and come out rather unscathed after decades of “mistreatment”. You felt your mother especially would be extra harsh on you and you had only been able to speak barely a word about it to Amara who seemed immediately aware of your unease and had asked you about it back at the palace as you were waiting for the carriages to come around and take you to the station.

“Why are you so anxious?” Axal asked as he noticed you were pacing the platform, wringing your hands and double checking your jewelry to make sure it laid right as you silently prayed to all the gods who would listen as the Raymonds and all their guests were waiting for the train to come at the station. You were actively ignoring the stares from others on the platform because you were dressed in your traditional clothes as a proper sultana from perhaps Constantinople or the Middle East or even India instead of an English lady and you looked and felt even more foreign here now than you did when you first came two years ago. You felt lost and like you didn’t really belong anywhere. You felt you didn’t belong here in England and you didn’t belong in Dorierra either. You felt like you were homeless and homesick for a place that was neither Dorierra or England. You were excited to see who else might have been coming but you were agonizing over the unknown of how they would react on seeing you again and anxious to know how they would react once they learned the truth of what had happened and to know that you lost to one of the moura's oldest foes.

“I’m not the same woman I was when I left, I’ve been...I’ve been wounded and I’ve been trying to heal but...the wounds that are the hardest to heal from are the ones that no one can see.” You tried to tell him as even Demsey was watching you, wishing he could offer you some kind of aid or comfort as you were clearly distressed. Even Ramsey seemed anxious but he was practically ignoring you and almost glued to his mother while Charlotte was completely oblivious to the plight as she and Zax continued to talk as even Jane felt sympathy for you as Rian kept her company nearby, since Charlotte and Jane kept each other company while Axal kept you company, even choosing to pace with you a little bit, so that you weren’t the only one doing so.

“Do you know why Audra seems as tight as a bow string?” Demsey murmured to his sister Amara who was standing closest to him.

“Apparently, when Audra left, she was similar in many ways to Bennie, Audra is self conscious that her mother will be displeased to see how much she’s changed and think that the changes were not for the better.” Amara murmured to her brother.

“Surely once her mother learns of what she’s gone through, she will have some understanding, and if her mother thinks she’s changed for the worst, she will need to have her head examined. Because Bennie plays to Sierge the way an actress plays to the adoring masses. Audravienne is actually genuine and authentic.” Demsey tried to reason as Amara smiled at her brother’s discernment.

“When I came to check in on her, she was having an attack of anxiety and panic about it. According to Calla, Audra’s mother is...demanding and exacting. Not necessarily soft or all that motherly. And what’s more is Audra’s father isn’t even her father.” Amara murmured, having wanted to tell her brother about this but not getting an opportunity beforehand.

“What do you mean?” Demsey asked.

“Apparently the stables are as their name implies, moura women are dames, moura men are studs, and the stable masters decide who breeds who, on any given day in order to improve genetics. Audra told me that she has two fathers, a house father, or the father who presided over her home and is for all intensive purposes married to her mother and raised her and her siblings as his own. But her heir father or the father who sired her, is someone else, someone who is popular among the stables because he throws the ideal that Audra seems to embody. The way a white mare will throw color onto a foal. Audra told me that her heir father has fathered thousands of children and he never once even learned Audra’s name. I got the impression that they were very estranged. That’s why Axal and Audra look like the twins they are but Rian and Zax look nothing like them, they all have different hier fathers but the same mother.” Amara revealed to her siblings who seemed to gravitate around them.

“Is that true?” Kiera asked Leumeni before Calla approached since she had overheard her name.

“Yeah. Audra’s father is known as the Buttercup Stud. Every kid he has the closest to “the breed standard”, sadly, just like horses or dogs are bred to conform to a standard, the stables are overrun with him and his offspring.” Leumeni reluctantly confirmed.

“Would I ever have to... ?” Kiera asked.

“No, never, over my dead body, any bride who is not moura who comes into Dorierra is automatically disqualified from ever having to be involved in the stables part of Dorierra.” Leumeni finished for her as Amara realized the two had grown that close already but either Leumeni wasn’t being completely honest or you had been over exaggerating, which didn’t seem likely as Demsey seemed to catch onto Amara’s alarm as even he was surprised by Kiera’s interaction with Leumeni as he blinked in surprise at her and gave her meaningful look which she quickly and almost guiltily avoided.

“What’s going on?” Calla asked as she came over with Tzane.

“We’re trying to figure out why Audra’s anxious.” Amara informed her.

“Oh, it’s because of Audra’s mother, her mother, Sultana Jodhaa Lilita, is one of the most beautiful women in the world, but in marinai there’s a term, it means “tiger mother” in the most direct translation. But it means that the mother is demanding and pushes her children for very high levels of achievement and always towards perfection, to the point anything less than perfection is not allowed, much less accepted and severely punished. She makes my mother look like a kind, soft, warm hug with a blanket compared to her. Hell, I’m anxious. Lilita can cut you down to your kidneys with just a look. Much less a word. She can weigh and measure kings and they would be found wanting in her eyes. The only kind, soft mother figure in Audra’s life is actually her heir father’s wife, Maradiem, something of a step mom I guess? In English? But I sincerely doubt she will be coming, or her heir father for that matter, I doubt he could be bothered. Now Audra’s father Sullimon Akbar, he’s wonderful. Firm but gentle and kind and honestly the ideal father.” Calla breathed but the sound of the train coming into the station pulled their attention back as Demsey watched as you seemed to stand extra rigidly as you seemed almost frozen in fear as he was ready to march back to Windsor and go ahead and get Heavencrest geared up for you. You had clearly been through hell and if your family thought they could come here and judge you harshly for it, they were going to be in for a rude awakening, he wouldn’t stand for this and neither should you. He needed to shield you from this. He didn’t know how but he was determined.

Meanwhile Ramsey was in a similar state of panic, he could see your own anxiety as his own whirled within him. He had heard from his mother that your own was a “typical” moura mother, meaning, harsh, demanding perfection, and not exactly soft, kind, understanding or sympathetic like his own, but rather, like his father, and he worried what kind of scrutiny he would undergo himself.

The moment came and your tears flooded your vision at seeing your mother and your house father again as you did your best to bow and greet them respectfully, but you had barely lowered yourself an inch before your mother, uncharacteristically, practically ran to you, grabbed you up and held you fast, hugging you so hard your back popped, which you weren’t expecting. Nor were you expecting her to be crying too. Along with your Papa who also hugged you from the back so that you were effectively sandwiched between them before you just broke down crying, relinquishing yourself to their arms as you noticed that even your grandmothers, Loreiris, who was your mother’s mother and your house father’s mother, Rahelle were here too as they tried to squeeze in and hug you too, which you happily did.

“You are just as beautiful as the last time we saw you.” Your mother cried into your shoulder, before you noticed your hier father- Cory, and his wife- Maradiem and their other children, your half siblings and Cory's own mother, the Jade Sultana- Anavia, standing next to them, wearing their more traditional elven clothes.

“Father,” you greeted formally after wiping your eyes and greeting him respectfully and traditionally, as you were taught.

“No formalities here Audravienne.” He gently cooed to you as he hugged you too. For one of the few times in your life and for the first time, using your name to do so as all of you were once again, brought to tears at being reunited as Maradiem huged you just as tightly as your own mother had as even your heir grandmother hugged you tight as did your “hier siblings”, never in your life did you expect to see everyone in your family, nor their warm greeting, but you would be lying if you tried to deny that you didn't want or need it.

“I thought…” Demsey began before Calla cut him off.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s ever called her by her name, even when she was leaving to wed Edward, he didn’t use her name.” Calla murmured to them as she and was effectively shocked before you introduced their hosts as they greeted Yalin and Gregori, giving them many gifts, in thanks for inviting them and hosting them as Gregori happily took the swords with pleasure while Yalin happily accepted all the jewelry, feeling like she was suddenly carrying fifty pounds of gold and jewels before Yalin and Gregori had to hire all the available carriages at the station to bring everyone back as you were squished between your mother and your housefather as your mother held you the way you had always needed her to and once back at the palace, your family insisted on talking with you privately which Yalin and Gregori opened up one of the audience rooms for your family as all of you filed in and the doors were shut, leaving Bennie and Calla and their siblings and the Voyambi’s on the other side as Calla and Bennie pressed their ears to the door while Yalin and Gregori, Ramsey, Charlotte pressed their ears to the other doors on the other side of the room while Jane sat anxiously by, worrying about what was going to happen next.

“What happened? Why are you a shakan?” Your mother implored in marinai as she held your hands in yours.

“Because of the abuse Mama.” You answered honestly.

“What abuse? The contract should have shielded you from any and all abuse, tell me.” Your mother warmly invited.

“I was alienated, persecuted, beaten, raped, poisoned, forced to drink mourkatili by the gallon.” You began before everyone gasped in outrage.

“And did you kill them for trying to kill you?!” Your mother demanded.

“No, I could not repay any of it. All I could do is gather all the evidence I could that it was happening in the first place. They poisoned their own father with Jade’s Crown, it made him go crazy! He would be himself during the day and a violent madman at night and I was locked away with him like a prisoner, three months after I married him, he could not hide it from me anymore and once he showed it, it just got worse and worse. Then when it became apparent that he would die soon, they poisoned me with cyanide and mourkatili, it was in everything, even the water I bathed in so that they could bury me with him. In only a month I was addicted to it, I was constantly drunk and my kidneys bled into my urine, my colon bled into my stool. By gums bled into my mouth. It took me five months to wean off of it without going crazy myself.” You explained as Bennie and Calla shrunk down on the other side of the door, both of them holding their hands over their mouths to keep them from throwing up as tears streaked down their faces.

“What are they saying?” Amara pressed.

“The Morrigans made her drink mourkatilli.” Bennie answered as she wiped at her eyes, her tears streaking her eye makeup and staining her handkerchief as she and Calla both shuddered at the very thought.

“Mouras, more or less, are immune to every kind of poison. To give moura a shot of cyanide, it’s like giving yourself a shot of whiskey. It can get you drunk, and make you sick if you drink too much, but not unless you drink amounts that would kill a village, you’ll recover, you’ll have a hangover, but you’ll be ok eventually right? However a millenia ago, there was the poison of poisons that was made, a poison that would kill anything and everything, including and especially a moura. Mourkatili means “moura killer”. Before the gold plague the only thing that could kill a moura was battle, very old age or a broken heart. We were immune to everything else, until mourkatili was invented. Only it behaves like whiskey laced with morphine or laudinoum or opium or any other very addictive drug, for a moura- it’s better than morphine, better than laudinum, better than opium, better than sex, better than anything and everything. It’s both sweet like candy, yet zesty like orange juice and numbing like morphine, but it makes a moura body bleed, it’s killed countless moura babes still in the womb, when their mother’s bodies choose between saving the baby or saving itself, the body will always choose the latter. It’ll make a moura mother instantly abort a baby, no matter the stage of pregnancy, but that baby will be dead before it’s birthed. It makes your gums bleed around your teeth, it makes your throat bleed, it makes your stomach bleed, it just makes everything bleed but it also makes the blood in your own mouth taste like chocolate. It’s the very first poison mouras are trained at the stables to detect because one sip could either kill you, or turn you into an addict and you kill yourself trying to chase the high it gives you. It’s the single biggest danger to a moura’s life and health and with such a dose, Audra’s internal organs probably look like they’ve been shot with a bird shot and the chances of her mothering a child after this will be especially hard, if not impossible for her. No wonder the stable masters didn’t let her come back and gave her the shakan status, because the shame of having an addict in the family is worth killing her for- to preserve the family honor. The Morrigans destroyed her and poisoned her and tried to kill her and it’s a wonder she’s alive. A single drop of it in a well can kill all the inhabitants of a city ten times the size of London. And she...she just told them that they made her drink a gallon of it. That much should have killed her, made her an addict at the very least. Fuck, how is she alive? How is she…?” Calla wept as Bennie and Calla hugged each other as the Voyambi’s stared in horror at each other as Demsey was seeing red, he wanted to run Richard Morrigan through with a thousand swords and make pay with everything he had, including his life for what he did as one look around, Calla and Bennie's brothers were of the same mind as all of them curled their lips in anger and disgust as all of them were heaving mighty breaths as Duke and Duchess Voyambis were even appalled by such knowledge, to know a countryman would behave so.

Meanwhile back inside the audience room-

“It is because I have that proof that they are paying double to me what Edward claimed he could. But the stable masters knew that the chances of my recovery were slim. And I was more trouble than I was worth. So they branded me a shakan and I’ve been alone and by myself ever since. The Morrigans even blocked all messengeraris, all my letters, everything, even after I left them. There was no way for me to tell anyone and they isolated me from every other moura, it wasn’t until only a few weeks ago that Calla left a note inside a book that found its way to me that I was able to find Yalin, and she introduced me to others.” You explained to your family.

“Where are the Morrigan’s now?” Loreiris demanded, drawing her sword as everyone else did the same before Gregori and Yalin hurriedly opened the door as Bennie and Calla did the same, falling over each other to try to get through the door first as all Demsey saw was your whole family have a weapon drawn as they all stared angrily towards you, as you stood there with your hands up, using the universal signal for stop and they didn’t need to think twice, he bolted for you, leaping between Calla and Bennie, thinking they were going to attack but Ramsey managed to get to you first since the door he was overhearing from was closer to you before he pulled you behind him, rather hoping to be run through, so that he wouldn’t have to live without Axal as Demsey was there with him only a couple of seconds later.

“Oh my gods, they’re not after me, they’re wanting revenge on the Morrigans, I told my family what they did to me.” You confessed as you ducked and evaded both of them before Jane burst into tears and sunk down to the floor and you and Rian were the first to her.

“My parents are done for aren’t they?” Jane sobbed.

“Who is this girl?” Your mother demanded.

“This is the Morrigan’s only daughter, who is innocent in all of this. But her parents, as awful and abusive as they are, are the only things between her and living in the street. She was my only friend through all of it and she helped me gather evidence.” You answered as you helped pull her back up to her feet as you consoled her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I can have a moment of your time and attention. While it is true that the Morrigans have wronged Sultana Audravienne, they have been under intense investigation for the last few days. A year ago, when the stable masters initially investigated this matter, they found solid evidence of wrongdoing and have kept that evidence, and they attempted to resolve this matter, thus the current contract that she has with them and the Morrigans. If you wish to legally press charges and wish to sue for damages and accuse them of whatever they might be guilty of, that can be arranged. But if you attempt to kill them in revenge, you will be wanted for murder which will spark a war. Right now, we must do things the proper way here in England. But this will take time. Up to a few weeks at least, maybe even a month. For now, settle in, come together, enjoy being reunited with Audravienne. There is a masquerade ball in only two days, and it will take us about a week but there has been a request for a proper Kamoba battle, which we will gladly host here. Let the tempers flare in the Komoba battle so that in court, we can all keep our composure and our heads and our wits. I will have the best lawyers involved and this matter will be resolved before you depart.” Gregori offered your family which seemed to be the magic words in appeasing them.

“Fine.” Loreiris huffed as she resheathed her sword as did everyone else in your family resheathe their weapons before Axal managed to pull you away from Jane and brought you back over to your family where you received even more hugs and words of encouragement and praise and understanding.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked your mother.

“No, I’m shocked, and I’m angry and very disappointed with the Morrigans. But not with you. You are blameless in this. You survived. You are here and you have persevered against mourkatilli which is a battle far too many lose to. No. I am proud of you. So proud of you. Since you are free of mourkatili now, we will have those masters reevaluate you. You will be coming home. Never again will an Englishman be in any position of authority over you and never again will you suffer at the hands of anyone, lest of all an Englishman. No, no child of mine will ever marry an Englishman after this” Your mother insisted as she said the word “Englishman” with particular hate and disdain and disgust As Yalin, Calla and Bennie all winced and grimaced as they gave each other meaningful looks.

“We’re screwed.” Yalin murmured worriedly to her husband before she translated your mother’s words to him.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about it. Richard Morrigan has practically dug his own grave, all we need to do is prove he is the only Englishman who is like himself before we let himself bury himself in it before Audravienne is awarded everything he has and thus we will come to have everything he has. We can prove that we are different and that Audravienne would be treated very well here. Ramsey is up to the task to prove he is different.” Gregori returned confidently as Yalin looked from Gregori to Ramsey who looked particularly terrified of the idea as Ramsey looked to Axal who looked particularly anxious with his mother’s words as well.

“Mama, not all Englishmen are like the Morrigans.” You gently countered, thinking of Demsey Voyambi more than anyone.

“I mean the Raymonds, your hosts, act the opposite to the Morrigans, they have been very kind, welcoming and hospitable, they invited you here haven’t they? They are hosting us aren’t they? And they offered to help us. They are good people.” You tried to intercede for Axal’s sake as Axal blew out a breath of relief and gave you a look of gratitude and appreciation as Yalin too was giving you a grateful look.

“It is the Dauphin that has made us coming together possible and you just heard with your own ears what they are about to do for us. We can not snub them or begrudge them. They are innocent in all of this. Let us see how it plays out.” You desperately pleaded.

“What is Audra saying?” Gregori whispered.

“Audra is interceding for us.” Yalin proudly revealed.

“Excellent. Knew she would.” Gregori insisted.

“And you must make sure that her confidence is well founded and must be richly rewarded.” Gregori insisted to Ramsey.

“Yes, of course.” Ramsey forced a smile and a nod.

"Who are you?" Loreiris demanded as she stood before Demsey and appraised him.

"I'm Duke Demsey Voyambi." He cordially answered.

"Who are you to Audra?" She asked as she searched his eyes.

"A freind." He allowed.

"A friend?" She repeated with a raised brow.

"Yes." He nodded.

"A friend who put himself between her and her family? With a look in your eyes that said that you were about to fight all of us off if we posed a danger to her?" She posed.

"Absolutely. She has suffered more than enough and she should suffer no more, not by anyone's hands, not even those who may or may not share her blood." Demsey insisted as Loreiris mouth quirked a lopsided grin at him.

"A good friend then." She surmised.

"I hope so." Demsey found himself nodding.

"Good. But you should know, that the next time you try that, you will be run through and I have a feeling Audra would prefer you alive, rather than dead. Do not face a blade without the proper protection, or a blade of your own." Loreiris advised cooly before she turned and returned to the others.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 12 #regency era orcs #regency era orc drama #orcs #moura #orc love story

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a-fallensoul · 4 years ago

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Supernatural Ending

The ending was so fucking sad and bad that it got me in tears and angry, it's a half of my life show, I never stopped watching it in 15y and i'm never gonna forget how they helped me during bad times...

This is going to be long...

But, My Jack... That was the ending?... Seriously...? They betrayed us, they didn't give us the boys ending, they give us Chuck's ending (15.04 pay attention to Becky, they even show us parts of those endings in 15.09, No Cass, No Eileen, one or both dies), so nothing of what the boys did in 15y, the sacrifice, all the pain, suffering, hopelessness, the lost ones, nothing of that really matter because in 15.20 they (the writers) let Chuck win, they destroyed 15y of storytelling, erasing Castiel and Eileen from the life of the winchesters and killing one of them... that was just unacceptable...

I love monsters and scary stuff, thats why I started watching Supernatural but somehow the show manage to become something more than that, the narrative change, evolved, and i ended up loving and caring way too much about Dean Winchester, the guy with this huge tragic story arc, i mean I love Sam too, but, the writers made me care too much about Dean and then Castiel appears in the picture and Jack dammit, it was just PERFECT...

They give us a simple show about a journey of two brothers on the road "saving people, hunting things, the family business" that later expanded to more than just two brothers, more than blood family, more than just hunting things...

Dean

Throughout his entire life Dean Winchester saw himself like -destructive, angry and driven by hate- like Cass told him in 15.18, and we saw it too... Since season 01 (01.06) that was a background story, Dean saying that on several occasions and thinking he doesn't deserve good things, the inner struggles, abandonment issues, hopelessness... And no matter what happened, he always saw himself like that ( he even vocalized those words on a few occasions )... other Hunters, friends/family that he truly cares about tried to talk him out of those ideas and he didn't listen. Cass confront him telling him why he's worth saving 04.01 but nothing, Amara (The Darkness) told him and try to help (15.15 they talk about this) failing, even Sam, his brother that he cares too much to even bring the apocalypse just to save him, told him throughout the entire series that he's way more than that, and nothing... no one could make him think otherwise...

Damaged and Broken Dean, a hopeless guy playing with girls and trying to find death in what he does, he is too tired of the job, that life, everything, and this was on 02.09...

Castiel

In S04 an Angel of the lord appears in the show, you know, the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, Castiel (and the first to say to Dean what he thinks of himself in his own words 04.01), so with Cass understanding Dean in a personal deep way with just one look of him, showing him that he's worthy to be saved, that he's important, that he matters (a personal issue that both of them shares and I will talk later) created the famous "profound bond" that they share, and that was the beginning of their relationship (in subtext, context, queerbaiting or not), and this relationship made Cass change to even defy God's orders and the other Angels... for them but mostly for Dean, Castiel the “Self-hating Angel of Thursday” - “The one off the line with a crack in his chassis” and the only Castiel of all the other version to do so (exact words in 05.18 and 15.17).

Cass plays a crucial part in the show and in Dean's life, you can see how Cass becomes Dean's rock and vice versa ... But in 15.18 we all saw something way too beautiful and perfect but heartbreaking at the same time...

Destiel going canon

For 12y we saw Dean and Cass becoming more than just friends, their characters grow to support and find each other when they needed the most. This “profound bond” between them was what both needed... the personal issues that both have:

Dean is afraid of being left behind by his loved ones, to be alone, so he pushes people away when he gets scared, because if he shuts them out it hurts less...

Cass loves too much and he's afraid of being unvalued, unloved, that no one would want him to stay so he leaves before he's unwanted...

But Dean needs people to stay by his side no matter what and Cass, he needs to be asked to stay before he believes there's nothing left for him there...

So no matter how much they fight they always end up together and this game that they have show us a lot of hints of their relationship.

There are many declarations between them, sometimes are vocalized others are with less words and more driven by actions but neither are completely direct until...

15.18 the last episode with Cass and the most emotional one, he said to Dean “The good and the bad, you have done it's because of love... you're the most caring man on Earth, you're the most selfless, loving human being I would ever know... I cared about the whole world because of you... You changed me, Dean...” (...) “Why does this sounds like a goodbye?” ask Dean, knowing that something is wrong, and Cass says “Because it is (...) I Love You” to which Dean answers “Don't do this, Cass” trying to stop the goodbye, not wanting for him to leave, not again, not in this moment (that's how I interpreted his words and performance by the atmosphere of the moment, the words, feelings, tears and physical pain on Dean), Cass says “Goodbye Dean” and pushes Dean to a side, making the ultimate sacrifice for the one he love... leaving a bloody handprint on Dean's shoulder (a callback from the first time they meet 04.01 and part of the speech was a answer to Dean's prayer in 15.09) and he's left both touched and stunned over Cass's confession but this soon shifts into pure sadness leaving him in the floor crying not knowing what to do, say or think... Dean doesn't answer to the love confession, he is too shocked, but at least we had one with a reaction...

There's something important to notice here, the line “Daddy's blunt instrument” in that confession was used once in 03.10 from Dean to Dean in a dream, he never spoke of that with anyone, not even Sam for obvious reasons... how Cass knew about that...? In 09.03 we hear Cass saying to Dean how he appreciates their talks and time together... So for Dean, the guy who never opens his heart to anyone, to get Cass as his confidant, is just not nothing... it means something...

Jensen/Dean was scripted to say “I Love You” in 08.17 first and that changed to “I Need You”, they thought it wasn't a good time for Dean or the moment, and we respect it, actually i loved the “I need you” more, because it gave a lot of meaning to the next seasons dialogues between Cass and Dean, even the fights...

Still, this is one of the most beautiful declarations of love that I've ever watched on small or big screen between two men... (or one...) but, Becky was right (15.04), we all knew...

Dean and Cass ending (2 of the 4 main character in the end of the show) left me with a massive hole in my chest, queerbaiting or not, they did share this "profound bond" since they met, the writers play with that throughout 12y and 12 season, they even made Cass a "Last minute Gay" (personally I don't think he is homosexual, He is an angel, therefore, not Human genders are attached, I think he's just Deansexual), they pushed all those feelings and history of 12 seasons to a side in the last episode, like they didn't matter, but they did! for Them and Us... And it was a beautiful but incomplete story to see, Dean and Castiel deserved a chance to be happy..

We saw them, and they are worthy of being seen. At the end, that's what we all want, to be seen by the ones we love and be loved in return...

Cass's Dean

Those last words from Cass, his love for him, meant so much to Dean that finally, at the end, he changed too, Cass changed the way Dean sees himself... Cass's love made Dean overcome what he thought he was, his love made him feel everything he ever wanted...

Since Cass appearance in the show, we saw Dean, a problematic, man-whore, jerk, with no meaningful relationship whatsoever that thought he didn't deserve good things and with a death wish, become something more and way past that, queerbaiting or not he overcame all that at the core of himself, because of Cass... and that's a fact.

Then in 15.19 we got glances on how broken Dean was... the pain of what he just lost... now there's no Cass next to him again, just Sam and Jack, the rest of the world is lone gone and Chuck won... This episode was so good, full of sadness but again Dean being who he is we kinda see him mourning Cass in his own way, just some hints... Dean always turns to drinking when something like this happens, when Lucifer calls Dean posing as Cass he runs to Cass with excitement only to find out it wasn't Cass. Near to the end and after the fight against Chuck, they exchange some word, but one of those stood out from the rest, when Chuck (now former God) asked to them if they're gonna kill him, calling Dean the Ultimate Killer, answering -That's not who I am- implying a massive change in his core self.

Those words right there show us how Dean changed... those words from Cass... Was all that Dean truly needed to believe what he was, what he always has been, The old Dean would have killed Chuck in a heartbeat but not this Dean... not Cass’s Dean...

Dean and Castiel changed each other, they changed the world, and they changed us too...

Sam and Eileen

Sam and Dean share the pain of almost everything that happens in the show but he was emotionally stronger/stable than Dean, so he was fine even when he wasn't... And so it will be...

At S15 and after a few encounters with Eileen in S11 and S12 Sam develops a deep relationship with her until Chuck appears in the picture with his "control over her" thing... and they separated because she thinks she can't be trusted, in 15.18 she's killed by Chuck... Sam is in pain, his new love has died but he manages to stay calm, he's sad but still fighting... in 15.19 he's sad for Eileen, Cass and everyone, they feel defeated but by the end of the episode he completely forgets her... In 15.20 he doesn't even know who she is, so the deep relationship they had is like if it never existed...

The Writers Fuckup

E19 ended and there was no Cass or Eileen, actually in the last minutes of the episode we saw how the narrative made Dean and Sam forget about Cass and Eileen completely by not asking Jack to bring them back too...

E20 the last episode of the show there's like zero recognition of Cass or Eileen, they barely name Cass 2 times, no feelings or reaction attached... Nothing to Cass's love confession or sacrifice, we do not even see them mourning their “best friend” of 12y the one who sacrificed for them and Dean after the confession does nothing (they make Dean completely forget about him, until at the end when he was like, Cass, yes i remember that guy... in heaven with a beautiful side smile)...

We all know Dean and how he is with this type of things and feelings, he's just not good with them, but everytime that Cass has died in the past Dean just loses control, he ends up exploding when it's about Bubu, but not this time and this time was the most personal and important of all. So no reaction from Dean is a completely out of character move and the same for Sam with Eileen...

Season 15 is full of feelings and too much heart, is the final season and we can feel it... in 15.03 Cass break up with Dean with very sad words, and Dean made him feel like that, but we can see the pain of this goodbye on Dean's face and he's just too stubborn to say something... 15.04 we see a glance of what’s to come thanks to Becky, she tried to warn us and we didn't listen... in 15.06-07 Eileen is back with Sam like together Together, 15.08 Dean and Cass got a moment alone with Rowena in Hell while she gives them a couples therapy session, pretty hilarious to see but with a lot of weight for them, in 15.09 they have to go to purgatory, Dean finds himself alone, time is running out and he's on his knees praying to Cass, crying, apologising for everything he did and said, he's desperate to find Cass NOW!. Sam's fighting against God and showing us those possible futures, Eileen saying goodbye, 'cause she doesn't trust herself around the boys... And so much more.

The End came and it felt weird in general, even empty in some parts like, the Winchesters not doing anything to save Cas from the Empty like they have done in the past, the stupid dead of Dean, they took everything from him, they remove the possibility to try a different life like he was trying to (the CV in Dean's desk, he was trying to do more than just hunting, he wanted more from life), Since season 02 after something big happens we see how Dean doesn't want the hunter life, he is tired but he keeps fighting no matter what... They're free of Chucks control and yes, maybe that means that as they're no longer the protagonist of Chucks story, they are gonna have a -normal life with normal people problems- like Garth tells them in 15.10, and probably a normal hunters death, but they are still the last of their kind, -Heroes, like in the old days- words from Fortuna, (Goddess of Luck in 15.11) while she give them The Luck of the Old Heroes something that was completely forgotten in the narrative of the next episode, Jack not bringing Cass back with the rest of the world, Eileen disappearance of Sam's “happy ending”, with Eileen being allegedly alive, Sam does nothing to go and find her... In heaven Baby's plate are KAZ, like WTF with that change, what is the purpose of putting those plate from S01/02 now... and something more weird from this episode is that Dean is almost always the main character but in this episode it's Sam, it was all about Sam's ending, the Roadhouse was from Ellie not Bobby's, what is he doing there and why Dean goes there and not to other place more meaningful for him like to his house with mom, the Bunker, the Barn (i wish)? and last but not least Vampires didn't exist in John's journal/Bestiary he thought they were extinct in 01.20 they talk about that...

A few things weren't so bad, callbacks of the first episodes, the words that Dean and Sam shared, the promise of not resurrecting him back even when neither of them wants for this to happen, the unconditional love between the brothers... Sam having a normal life doing what his brother told him to. Jack fixing heaven creating a special type of Heaven just for Dean, -The Heaven that you DESERVE- Bobby's words in 15.20, Bobby with the eyebrow thing and long pause after saying Cass name to Dean -Well (...) Cass Helped- Dean smiling when he hears Cass name (even in the end they keep throwing us this type of scenes)...

A few good things don't change a bad episode from being bad... overall the episode didn't feel like a Supernatural episode it was hollow out of character and a complete disappointment...

The Queerbaiting

The queerbaiting in this show was in another level, all those continues references about stuff that only LGBT+ people would understand, the inspiration behind Dean Winchester character, other characters recognizing the “boyfriends tag” between Dean and Cass, hints and specific reaction of Dean with other male characters and with Cass pushed in the show too vigorously since 01.04, the long stares between Dean and Cass (i love those), Dean opening his heart mostly to Cass and Cass to Dean, the writers keep throwing girls to Dean and he keeps like.. Hot, she's really hot, okay bye... the famous 08.07 scene, all this and more was deliberately put there...

Remember, these are fictional characters created and directed to say and act in a specific way in the show, so nothing of what we saw in 15y was a mistake or us imagining things where there's nothing to imagine.

After all the character development Dean and Cass had, He was ready to say it in 15.09 and maybe, just maybe, Cass didn't let him talk because of the Empty deal that he had, can you imagine that... Dean was ready...

The signs of Dean being Bi were all over the show, in season 08 Dean developed PTSD for Cass and That scene in 08.07... Dean's confession in 10.16 where he said he -wants to experience things, people, and feelings differently or even for the first time-, Remember when Cass died and Dean was pissed all the time but Cass came back and Dean was so happy and hipeted about it 13.06... and what happened in purgatory 15.09 when he opens his heart to Cass, Dr. Sexy... and there are more of this in 12 seasons...

The Perfect Ending

“The Perfect Ending” just doesn't exist... it would be for it to never end, we just care too much... but if they have to die, well, they can die of old age after helping the new generation and living their lives or something like that... I'm glad that I even got to see what we saw, the boys journey against evil and all the love in between (15.20 wasn't a good episode it didn't feel right i'm gonna salt and burn it most of it...). Supernatural is not a perfect show but the beautiful thing about perfection is that it's imperfect too...

I do Choose to believe in a different ending one with Cass and Eileen in it, why?... Because the boys deserve to enjoy the world and people that they helped to saved, they deserve to be loved... and i refuse to think otherwise... THIS IS FOR MY PEACE OF MIND

#supernatural #destiel #destiel is finally canon #destiel is love #spn #15x20 carry on #i need you #i love you #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #spn 15x19 #eileen leahy

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tiesandtea · 4 years ago

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Ahead of Suede’s Galway Arts Festival headliner, Brett Anderson, reflects on fatherhood, ageing, mortality, his first-ever meeting with David Bowie, and why he’ll never write his autobiography.

By Olaf Tyaransen. Published on 22 July 2016.

“The world doesn’t need another bloke from a band writing about himself taking drugs years ago,” he continues. “It’s boring. Such a cliché. I did have a bloody minded idea about writing an autobiography about my early life that ended the day we got signed. I thought that would be an interesting way to do it and leave people hanging a bit thinking, ‘Come on, we want the interesting stuff!’ But me talking about my life as a child and struggling as an adolescent… and stopping just at the part everyone wants. Maybe I’ll do that.”

“I’m terrified of absolutely everything,” declares Brett Anderson. “I can’t go out my front door without being terrified.”

How times change. Back in the early ‘90s, when Anderson was rarely off the front covers of the UK music weeklies, the porcelain-skinned, rake-thin and eminently quotable Suede singer used to be the fearless poster boy for druggy decadence and sexual daring (“I’m a bisexual who has never had a homosexual experience”).

Today, at the ripe old age of 48, the still angular frontman is clean and sober, a married father of two, and a very different sort of rock star. “I think as you become older you become less carefree about life and about your future,” he muses. “When you’re younger you don’t really entertain it as a concept because you think you’re immortal or whatever. I’m not actually sure what you think, if you even have a sense of the future. I certainly didn’t when I was in my twenties and now it’s a different thing. I’ve a family and having a family changes your perspective on things, your own mortality especially, and I think lots of it is fear of death being at the heart of it. That’s probably what a psychologist would say.”

This somewhat fearful worldview is at the black heart of Suede’s darkly poetic, thrillingly orchestral seventh studio album, Night Thoughts. Anderson’s awareness of his own mortality is also reflected on its rather bleak-looking sleeve, which depicts a scantily clad woman floating in an ink-black sea. “Yeah, the sleeve of the album was supposed to be a comment on that,” he says. “You know, the tiny figure lost in the vast indifferent sea, and that’s sometimes how I view life. You are a flicker of light against a huge, consuming, empty universe… and that’s what I wanted to reflect with the sleeve.”

For the most part, despite some exuberantly trashy musical flourishes, the songs are just as dark and gloomy. Not that Anderson is apologising for them. “Well, that’s what I’m here for!” he laughs. “I’m not interested in making jolly music or putting across jolly sentiments. I don’t care. I’ll leave that to other bands, it doesn’t interest me. For me it’s about accessing these primal things that matter, the big questions of life and death and birth and mortality, and those are the things I want to talk about in my music. I don’t feel as though I’ve always done that and there’s been moments in my career where I think I’ve been more flippant, and that’s fine because I think you need that complexity to have a real career, to have a body of work, it can’t be one dimensional, but I think now I want to get to the heart of things.”

The title, Night Thoughts, refers more to this gnawing sense of existential dread than to his preferred time to concentrate on writing song lyrics. “It doesn’t really refer to my writing process, it’s more supposed to be those moments at four o’clock in the morning when the walls seem to be caving in on your life, that primal fear of the night that you have. I don’t kind of get up in the middle of the night. Occasionally I’ll get ideas and scribble them down, but I’m not an insomniac.”

The follow-up to 2013’s excellent comeback Bloodsports (their first since 2002’s poorly received A New Morning, the album that preceded their lengthy hiatus), Suede tried a different approach when writing and recording Night Thoughts. Rather than staying put in London, Anderson and his bandmates – the current line-up comprises Richard Oakes, Neil Codling, Mat Osman and Simon Gilbert – instead decamped to Belgium with absolutely nothing prepared in advance.

“We did, yeah,” he says. “We took a bit of a leap of faith and went into a studio in Brussels and basically just recorded a whole load of music that hadn’t been turned into songs. Doing something like that is quite a risk because it means you might end up with a whole lot of things you don’t use – or can’t use because not every bit of music I’m presented with turns into a Suede song.”

”It was more important to us just to have a different mindset going into this and from very early on we wanted it to be a coherent record rather than a collection of good songs, which basically Bloodsports was,” he continues. “We wanted it to have some unity as an album and we thought that was a good way to do it, go in there and record some music, let it breathe and then I’d sort of go in and arrange the songs around the music, the music would flow. So that was basically the backbone of the album recorded like that. Once I’d written some of the things, and lots of them had worked and some of them hadn’t, we had to go and tinker with it a bit, but that was how the backbone of the record was made.”

Were they up against the clock with this? “Not really, no, I’m never against the clock. It’s always ready when it’s ready, to be honest.” Despite having an orchestra playing on most of the songs... “Oh no! We did the orchestration later,” he explains. “It was just us in the studio. But that’s an interesting idea. Doing something like that would be even more a leap of faith – to hire an orchestra and then have to work around that.

“You have to make yourself less comfortable with what you’re doing. As soon as you start repeating yourself and doing the same things over and over that’s when the music gets boring. You have to always be a little bit concerned about it. You gotta almost always feel that it might not work to keep it exciting.”

On the song ‘What I’m Trying To Tell You’, which written for his young son, Anderson admits that he doesn’t “know the price of anything.” So is he still a pampered popstar? Does he know what a pint of milk costs? “I know exactly what it costs, yeah,” he laughs, “but it depends on what you want. Organic? Semi-skimmed? Ha! No, I don’t have a pampered popstar existence. When Suede broke up, I went through a period of making solo albums and that was very interesting because instead of being in this big machine, a successful band where everything is done for you, you’re out on your own and that was a great learning curve. I did things I’d never done.”

Such as? “I learned to drive and all these sorts of things, and I felt like I was standing on my own two feet,” he explains. “It was such an essential period for me about 10 years ago when I was making solo albums. They weren’t the most successful for me financially, but they were incredibly successful for me personally and I learned a lot about my limits. The pampered popstar thing, you can’t do that when you’ve a family. Suddenly, when there’s kids around, you’re not the most important person in the room and that’s a big lesson you learn from having kids.”

When Anderson and Suede first became famous in the early ‘90s, his most obvious influence was David Bowie. So much so that the NME put them together for a memorable cover shoot modelled on one that Bowie had done with Naked Lunch author William S. Burroughs years earlier. “Well, a couple of times after that, we’d get together and hang out.” Where was he when news of Bowie’s death broke? “I was at home,” he replies. “What can I say? I don’t know if I can really add anything else to it, there’s been so much discussion of his death. It’s a terrible tragedy, it’s a terrible tragedy for music. One of the greatest artists ever. I don’t think we’ll see his type again, I really don’t. Those times have passed and when he died, a type of artist died as well, and that’s very sad. I can’t see how we’d ever find another one of him. It’s impossible.”

British photographer Roger Sargent, who’s best-known for his work with The Libertines, made a feature film to accompany Night Thoughts. When the band toured earlier this year following its launch, they performed from behind a screen on which the movie was projected during the first half of their set. “I sat down with Roger and explained the themes of the record to him – basically birth and death and decaying and ageing,” he explains. “He felt as though he could do something with that. He really wanted to do it because he had been experiencing those things. Bereavement, having a kid… so these big life and death issues were happening to him as well.

“So he thought, ‘I’ve got to do this project, I need to get some of this out of my system’. And the reason we chose him is because it seemed like it was more important to him than just a job. What I wanted to do was let him run with those things, and to express and interpret them in his own way. What I didn’t want to do was sit down over his shoulder and say, ‘No, you’ve got this wrong, this isn’t about this it’s about this or something else.’ “I wanted him to interpret them purely in his own way so sometimes the film runs in parallel to what I’m talking about and at times it drifts off. It’s the story of a man and a terrible tragedy that happens in his life and the consequences of that tragedy. It’s not a literal interpretation of the lyrics of the album but it kind of touches on some of the things.”

Surprisingly for a band with such a cinematic sound, Suede haven’t done much in the way of movie soundtracks. “Well, we did a couple of years ago,” he recalls. “We did the title song for a film called Far From China, which was a bit of a one-off. I’d love to do something like that again, but I’m not sure if we’re seen as the sort of band that do that sort of thing. I always find it confusing how people perceive us but I’d love to do that.

“Cinema was one of the big influences of the album,” he continues. “We’re all big fans of cinema, as is Ed [Buller] the producer. He’s in LA at the moment working on film scores and he’s done stuff with Hans Zimmer, so he’s sort of drifting into that field more. There’s always been that sense to Suede’s music that we wanted it to have some sort of cinematic size.” Buller produced all of Suede’s most successful albums. “He’s kind of an invisible member, in lots of ways. We’ve made our best records with Ed and hopefully we’ll carry on. He always does a really good job.”

Looking back on Suede’s career, can he identify one moment that was the biggest? “There was a really lovely moment in the Royal Albert Hall in 2010 when we reformed, and we played ‘Metal Mickey’ and there was this standing ovation. It was lovely to see all that love after all those years. It was a really wonderful way to come back. That standing ovation was a feeling that I’d be happy to take to the grave.”

When they reformed to play that Albert Hall show, there were no initial plans to carry on. “We were just gonna take it as it came, play the gig, see what happens, how we feel, but it was wonderful and I’m really glad that we did because it’s gone from a band playing all the old hits – which is easy to do, to be honest – to a band that’s been reborn creatively… which isn’t easy to do. The last two records are right up there with what we’ve done in the past, and I’m so pleased because that’s what it’s all about for me, creating new music and not playing the old songs. It’s about evolving as an artist and I think people are interested in what we’re gonna do next; I know I am. I don’t know what path we’re going to go on, or where it’s going to lead us, but I know we’ll do something interesting with the new record.”

Has he ever had a lengthy creative dry spell? “Yeah, doesn’t every writer?” he says. “I don’t really believe in ‘writer’s block’, it’s just a meaningless term. You have to shake yourself up and do something else and come back to it reinvigorated. Writer’s block sounds so permanent and it’s just a temporary state of mind but of course you go through different stages of creativity and every time I start a new record I always think, ‘I don’t know if I can do this again’. “You always have these crises of confidence but that’s almost half the process. All these bad things that you feel, you know, these weird uncertainties, sense of doubt, it’s part of it because, when you overcome it, you get this sense of achievement. It’s very much part of the process, you can’t have the good side of it without the bad side.”

Would Brett Lewis Anderson ever consider writing his autobiography? “No, I don’t think anyone needs to read about me in the ‘90s,” he sighs. “It’s kind of boring, it doesn’t really interest me. If I wrote anything like that it would be short novels or something like that. Bizarrely enough, I’m not particularly self-centred which I’m sure a whole load of people will laugh at or find hard to believe, given my public persona, but I don’t particularly want to write about myself. Maybe I’ll change my mind in 20 years but not now.

Suede headline the Festival Big Top at the Galway Arts Festival on Saturday, July 23 with The Frank and Walters supporting.

#brett anderson #suede #hot press magazine #night thoughts #bloodsports #stumbled upon this interview the other day when raiding the Hot Press website #it's a great long read!#very prophetic about both Coal Black Mornings (hahaha) and The Blue Hour #also nice bits about Bloodsports and Night Thoughts #and a nice mention of the Royal Albert Hall reunion show #also i slightly adapted the formatting of this text for a better reading since the original paragraphs are SO long

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enchantedbyhiddles · 4 years ago

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Unpopular opinion, but I don’t think that Nicky and Joe care that much about gay marriage being legalised in some countries now. At least not enough to get married now. They wouldn’t get legally married in a European country, when there is no place in the Arabic world where they could do the same.

Let me preface it with that I get why it is so important for large parts of the fandom. I know why they want to have these new gay icons have this very important public representation. So please, continue to write about these two getting married in as many variations as possible. At all times and through all centuries!

It’s just that Nicky and Joe are nearly thousand years old. They’ve been a couple for centuries and they are very much secure in being a couple. For them it is a nice touch, but they don’t need that any longer.

They’ve probably been married since some time in the 15th century.

Andy always told them that religion isn’t fixed, but it took them some time to see and agree with that for themselves. Nicky hadn’t even read the bible until some time in the 14th century, because a) he wasn’t really that good at reading and especially not Greek or Aramaic. Only when he learned Arabic from Yusuf was he able to get more into the original versions of the bible. And b) it was forbidden to read the bible if you were a religious person. The pope decided what the words meant (and based that on a horrible Latin translation) and you were supposed to follow. Reading and finding your own truth is the way of heretics. That’s not something a simple priest would do. So yeah… it took some time and with the heretic movements that did the same and read the bible and tried to understand it, that’s when Nicky noticed that maybe, well, the church wasn’t telling the whole truth. And maybe it was totally okay that he didn’t live by what the humans said and he could still keep his connection to god, even though people told him otherwise. He tried to make sense of it and came to the conclusion, that marriage is a declaration of love and caring for each other in front of god. Well, there was no doubt, that he loved Yusuf and that he’d do anything to keep him from harm and he totally wants to spend the rest of his immortal or mortal live with him.

Yusuf came to the conclusion a little earlier. He was more educated and as a merchant he travelled more. He had seen how the different places in the world are sometimes more, sometimes less open-minded towards homosexual relationships. For him the leap from differenciating what god wants and what the people do wasn’t as huge. He loved soaking up the culture and philosophies. There is enough evidence throughout all the things he read that homophobia isn’t a fixed given or that every religion frowns upon. It’s bigotted humans that do so. He fell in love with a Christian man and if Allah had intended that for him, he wouldn’t question it. Allah being love would have had a reason for it. He wouldn’t condemn him for the way he made him.

Both have considered themselves married since then. Sometimes they re-affirm their vows. A declaration of love. „You know that I will love you until my last breath. And I will follow you everywhere. Do you hear that god? I love this man and I will stay with him for as long as you let us live.“ It’s just not a big party, but more the two of them and god and their family from time to time. Those are the moments though were they feel the most that they can’t share it with their families. They will never know whether their love would have been accepted by their parents and siblings. They would have loved to show them what a brilliant man they met. Maybe it’s for the better though.

After that they’ve lived through different phases of homophobia. It was always the best when people were too busy with surviving to even care about it. Bath houses in Constantinople had been nice, Victorian times were shocking, 1920th Berlin was thrilling and exciting. Since then though they had to go more into hiding for different reasons (too many cameras became something of a problem). They are more private and among their family they can show their love as much as they please (well, sort of). The pride movement and the movements for marriage equality are not a focus of their attention at all times. Homophobia didn’t die when marriage became legal in a few countries. Other countries saw an increase in hate crimes, so they know it isn’t over yet. Some people might never accept them.

The only thing that bothered them since the introduction of legal personal documents was that it stated „single“. They weren’t single. Thank you very much. So now they are happy that they can put in married in some countries and prefer it to documents from states where it isn’t possible.

#the old guard meta #the old guard #long post #i have too many thoughts and feelings

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kbafs3xlegetj-blog · 4 years ago

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Tips on how to Introduce Sex Toys With the Partner

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Now that 40 Shades of Greyish is so popular, most of the media is having a debate about sex and sexual aids. Are you curious about making the effort them but are generally too embarrassed? Considering unsure whether they usually are right for you your relationship?

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The following are certain common misconceptions around adult toys:

Most people avoid the use of sex toys

Wrong! Various respectable people employ adult toys, including families most would give consideration to perfectly normal. Employing an adult toy shouldn't make you "odd" or even doesn't say a single thing negative about a relationship. It basically helps you have fun more pleasant in the bedroom! There's no need to share with your friends, a person's boss or ones mother that you make use of toys unless someone unless you want to.

Adult novelties are just for masturbation.

While adult toys are typically used for masturbation, various couples enjoy choosing toys together, if they are female or simply male or heterosexual or homosexual. Commonly these couples can be comfortable trying innovative things together, tend to be open-minded, and relying on.

Your partner will believe inadequate if you begin using a sex toy.

Are you currently nervous that if most people bring an adult squeaky toy into the bedroom, ıt's going to hurt your spouse's feelings? An adult doll can give you a great orgasm, but it cannot tell you how much they will love you and rub your once again. An object is simply not a substitute for a realistic person. If your partner has this fearfulness, be sensitive together with stroke his or her vanity a little bit. As with a lot of relationship issues, excellent communication is essential.

Using sex toys could be physically dangerous.

ABSOLUTELY NO WAY!

In fact , adult toys may have some very positive effects within your sexual health.

Like many doctors and additionally therapists recommend sex toys to women that definitely have trouble reaching ejaculate; if you suffer from sore sex, vibrators may well stimulate blood flow; many women can gain from kegel exercisers and also kegel balls so that you can tone the pelvic floor muscles; prostate massagers reduce the probability of prostate cancers, erectile dysfunction and repeated nighttime urination. Eventually, orgasms help you are living longer, block problems and, some declare, look younger. Whom wouldn't want that will?

If you use sex toys much more, you won't have an ejaculation with your partner.

When your partner is scared you'll replace the dog with your favorite gadget, promise him or her that you always keep things numerous in the bedroom: have a go with different positions, brand-new toys, light bondage and fantasy engage in.

If your relationship is normally healthy, there's no good reason that you should need a clitoral stimulators.

You are so fortunate to have a healthy partnership. However , who would want to make your relationship even tougher and closer simply by sharing a new working experience? If your lover can be insistent about possibly not wanting to use person of legal age toy to improve your sex existence, assure him or her you don't need an adult play either, you'd exactly like to try one.

Most people or your partner is usually afraid of sensing pleasure

Pleasure can be described as birthright. Everyone ought to get it and should own it. Own your sex and do just what works for you. In fact, orgasms make you much better and happier.

Getting sex toys can be definitely embarrassing especially when they look gross in addition to scary.

You are appropriate. Now, thanks to the web, you can shop within the comfort of your own dwelling without judgement. A lot of adult toys make you look uncomfortable because they are commonly phallic or cheesey or are which means that loud that you believe your children or neighboring might hear what we are up to. Luxurious sex toys are just and the second. You might not even be aware that they are high quality sex toys because they look like paintings. They are now consequently discreet and calm that no one could know what you are as many as.

These arguments could create sense and be employed by most people but may well not work for you. If that's the case, listed below are 3 more arguments to try out sex toys:

Pleasures = Sex Toys

Who might be not a fan associated with orgasms? You might be way too tired or as well busy to have having sex, but there's no denying that orgasms come to feel good. Adult toys will have more orgasms. What’s wrong with that?

Sextoys are Fun.

No matter whether you have been along with your lover for a few times or many years, important things might be a little boring and you want to make an effort something new. This is OK - an individual alone! Adult toys are able to add excitement with the bedroom and maintain things from becoming mundane. Using an grownup toy together may bring you closer; discussing new experiences alongside one another can be very intimate.

Sexual aids Make Sex More desirable.

Did you know that about 30% of women have an orgasm during sexual intercourse? Most women need clitoral stimulation to achieve a particular orgasm. Meanwhile, countless men have trouble developing their erections provided they would like, whether because of age, remedy or stress. That could be what adults playthings are for!

For everybody who is now ready to begin to use adult toys, here are a few tips to get started:

Start slow-moving by starting out along with something small. Commence with a small toy along with show your lover of the fact that toy is all about using more pleasure together with excitement to the sleeping quarters. For example , if you want to here is another vibrator, start with an issue that's small and additionally discreet, like a handy vibrator or vibrating egg. If you want to test light bondage, get one of these blindfold or keeping your lover's palms above their top of your head during foreplay.

If you end up ready, work your drive up to something much bigger and bolder.

Most importantly of all, remember that communication may be the key to almost any healthy relationship. If you cannot share your a feeling or desires, some thing is not right. Closeness and fun will be the main goal. It is completely up to you to decide no matter whether that means with or even without sex toys, nonetheless experimentation never injure anyone!

My Top secret Luxury is the service of luxury sex toys and high quality enchantment tools. We offer your curated collection of masturbators for men, gals and couples which adhere to the highest requirements of design, fashion and technology. The net shop provides a spot for discreet query and discovery because of carefully crafted Mystery Kits and gives unequalled customer service through the Strategy Concierge, who is there to turn fantasies straight into reality.

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olehistorian · 5 years ago

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PHYLLIS Logan is only minutes back from New York where the actress has been promoting the new Downton Abbey movie. The national station PBS has been beaming out interviews across the nation, given the series about toffs and toff-servers has been such an success in the classless land of the free.

Logan’s voice is soft and a little subdued. She speaks in thumbnails, not given to flourishes at all. I factor in that the expansive, often dramatic language of hyperbole was spoken by very few in Renfrewshire in the 1950s and 1960s (yet actors tend to be more effusive). And I factor in jetlag of course.

But then again, perhaps there’s a little more of her laconic head housekeeper character Mrs Hughes in Phyllis Logan than we’d suspected? “Well, I can be a bit snippy, a bit terse,” she offers, smiling. “But only to my nearest and dearest.” Would Kevin (actor husband Kevin McNally) agree with that? “Probably,” she says, dryly.

Logan’s thoughts on the Mrs Hughes comparison continues: “She was written down in the script, of course, but I like to think I gave her the legs to run. But when you play a character there are always elements of you in that person. You can’t completely step away from yourself.”

Downton is a phenomenal television success story. The series, which began eight years ago featuring the Crawley family and their legion of servants, began with the Titanic going down, and has covered plague, rape, murder, interwoven with romance, often crossing the class barriers.

Logan’s character was voted No 1 Ever in a 2014 Radio Times poll; no mean feat given the subdued nature of Mrs H, a woman to whom flashes of excitement are to be discouraged as much as relations with those upstairs.

Yet, the original script described Elsie Hughes as a Yorkshire woman. Logan reveals it was only when the casting directors heard the Scot’s natural voice that they asked her to read in her own accent. “I was happy when she was cast as a Scot. She had that Scottish bluntness and I felt right because I have known women like her.”

During the six series of Downton, Mrs Hughes negotiated Branson the chauffeur’s assassination attempt, Carson’s Spanish flu and helped Ethel with her illegitimate Upstairs son, Charlie. The psychologist with an apron also sorted out Thomas’s homosexuality. And although she fell for Mr Carson, (or at least lurched slightly in his direction) it took a bit of persuasion before she agreed to a “full” marriage, where he would make occasional visits downstairs.

“We all know those types,” grins Logan. “But what’s nice about her is she does have a sense of humour. And she’s quite forward thinking. She’s a republican, and has a socialist bent to her for sure.”

Does Logan have left-wing sympathies, considering her late father, an engineer, was a trade unionist? She deflects by referring to Mrs Hughes. “She was of a different type. She knew people were thrown into a caste system but had to make the best of it.”

Yes, but what about you, Phyllis? Did you feel working class containment in Johnstone, where most people’s horizons didn't stretch beyond Rootes car plant or the local carpet factory (where John Byrne took inspiration for The Slab Boys – Logan appeared in the sequel, Cuttin’ A Rug)?

“You just accepted the way things were,” she says, sounding ever so Mrs Hughes. “I never thought I’d break out and become posh. But I did think it would be nice to spread my wings a little.”

Just a little? She smiles and adds: “But I didn’t audition for some of the big London drama schools. I thought that was a step too far for me at the time so I went to Glasgow.”

Not a risk taker. Not a wild child. But very, very good at what she does. Despite her careers teacher declaring the teenager was wasting her time with acting, Logan picked up the James Bridie Gold Medal at the RSAMD. On leaving she landed work at Dundee Rep and worked continuously throughout the 1970s and 1980s with the likes of Borderline Theatre. Real talent was revealed. Yet few would have expected her to land the role of Britain’s most popular posh totty in dodgy antiques dealer series Lovejoy.

Aged 30 in 1986, Logan walked into an audition room as Lady Felsham. Logan’s Lady had a cut-glass accent, spoke authoritatively of renaissance art and invoked a world of stately homes and castles. But in reality, Logan’s only castle connection was her housing scheme, Johnstone Castle, where the recognised art on living room walls was a classic Sara Moon picture. This new cut-glass accent had somehow emerged from a world where ginger bottles were a form of currency.

Logan’s clever deception (aided by being forced to speak RP at drama college) revealed that you don’t have to be a loud extrovert to be emboldened enough to convince you are actually blue blooded: you just need to be talented. “I can’t believe looking back now that 20 million were watching us on Sunday nights. The show was so huge.”

Many other drama successes followed such as Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies. But did she feel Downton would be the massive success it became? “I read the scripts and loved them. And when I heard Maggie Smith and Hugh (Bonneville) and Penelope (Wilton) were on board it looked good. Then we signed an option for three series but there was always the chance it could have gone down the pan after one.” Her voice lifts. “And then six came along.”

Did this kill the fear, the insecurity that comes with being an actor waiting to be hired? She answers indirectly. “It used to be that you always knew that when one job was finishing another would be on its way. But that seems to be far less the case these days. That’s why it was great having that guarantee of six months' work each year. And each time it was like going back to school after the summer holidays and seeing your friends.”

Logan seems the worrying type, so why volunteer for a life of insecurity? “And rejection,” she adds in soft voice. “And I’ve had a certain amount of that.” She thinks for a second and makes a dramatic statement that seems out of character. “You know, I wanted this part in Downton so badly I think I might have given up [acting] had I not got it. I don’t often feel that. Usually I have a what’s-for-you-will-not-go-by-you outlook.”

She laughs and allows herself a little flightiness: “Somehow I felt, ‘This is mine! It’s meant to be.'" She then contains herself and becomes more Mrs Hughes. “No, I felt I’d like to give it a bash.”

Logan certainly didn’t get into acting for the glory. She doesn’t seem to be consumed by ambition or the fripperies of acting success. She had genuinely forgotten she’d won a Bridie Gold Medal, and mention of her Bafta for Another Time, Another Place, (the 1983 Scotswoman falls for Italian POW tragic romance) doesn’t swell her head in the slightest. What she does want, however, is to act. All the time. In all the best roles.

“I just wanted to be the best I could. To find the truth in every role. You don’t think about awards. Acting has been the only thing that remotely interested me since I played Mary in the Nativity play at primary school. Then at Johnstone High I’d join every club that had anything to do with acting and take trips to the Citizens'. I’d be in any play going, starting in the chorus and working my way up to playing Polly in the Boyfriend.”

But, of course, there have been set backs. “My dad [David] didn’t live to see me graduate, [he died, aged 59] and that was a real shame but my mum would come and see all my shows.”

Logan’s voice becomes more upbeat as she tells of how her mum and aunt landed roles in one of her films, when the actress appeared in a drama set in Spain, The Legendary Life of Ernest Hemingway (1989). “My mum Betty and my auntie Margaret came on set to have a look around, and they were asked if they wanted to be extras. They loved the idea of this, and were dressed up as posh ladies with big frocks and they had all the make-up done.

“But it was a night shoot, and the second night as they should have been getting picked up they declared, ‘Oh, pet, we don’t think we’ll bother tonight.’ I thought ‘Have you never heard of continuity? Do you know what this means? I had to tell the director they’d both eaten something dodgy.”

Betty and Margaret clearly weren’t captivated by the acting world. Logan herself once claimed she wasn’t captivated by actors. She said she wouldn’t have one in the house, that they were vain people. But then she met McNally while filming the 1993 miniseries Love and Reason and they fell in love and married.

“What I meant was I’d never get together with one,” she backtracks, grinning. “But in a way it makes real sense. We know the business. And we can help each other. Recently, Kevin was doing three episodes of the missing Dad’s Army scripts (playing Captain Mainwaring) and I read lines with him every night. It meant I got to play every other character in the cast.” McNally must have found it a delight, given his wife’s talent. (She slips into a remarkable Clive Dunn/Corporal Jones voice. “Don’t panic, don’t panic Mr Mannering.”

But if all that sounds a little perfunctory, Logan, who lives in west London, once declared: “There’s an excitement in discovering that you can still fall in love when you’re an ancient old trout.”

There’s little doubt the relationship really works. But the Mrs Hughes cross voice emerges when I ask if Pirates of the Caribbean star McNally, who has appeared in Downton in the past, playing Horace Bryant, has a role this time around? “No, he does not,” she says emphatically, (subtext: he’s had his shot and should be thankful, a sentiment which sits neatly against her husband’s quote of the time: “Phyllis said it was like take-your-husband-to-work day.”

Was she a bit territorial? “Yes,” she smiles. “I was thinking: ‘You don’t get me a part as Johnny Depp’s mother and take me to the Caribbean. So why are you here?’”

What of the Downton film, set in 1927, two years after the end of the series? It transpires tiaras and silver will be polished until they sparkle. “We get a visit from the King and Queen (George V and Queen Mary) and there’s a bit of friction between the Downton team and the Royal household staff. Mr Carson (now on gardening duty) is begged by Lady Mary to help out. The cavalry ride into town!”

And, of course, there will be lashings of scandal, romance and intrigue “that will leave the future of Downton hanging in the balance,” says the official movie site.

But what of the future for Phyllis Logan? Despite running up continuous film and TV series, success, from Taggarts to Rab C Nesbitt, from the more recent The Good Karma Hospital to Girlfriends – and attracting great crits for her West End role earlier this year as Patricia Highsmith in Switzerland – she certainly has Elsie Hughes’ worry gene.

Logan’s run, she feels, could end at any minute.

“It’s a snakes and ladders life,” she says in Mrs Hughes' tones. “Your career can be going really well and suddenly the snake appears. But I guess I’ve been lucky because I persevered.”

Nonsense, Phyllis. Talent kicked in. You don’t get Bridies and Baftas and almost continuous work for perseverance. “It’s lovely of you to say so, but I’m not sure that’s really the case.”

Downton Abbey is out on September 13

#phyllis logan #downton abbey #interview #elsie hughes #lady jane felsham

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art-of-slither · 5 years ago

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Touched by Magic: the day the magic spark re-ignited (Pt. 3)

Four years passed and my life settled into a flat line. Boredom settled in, with bouts of negativity every week. Grades were again average, friends were just ok, I gained a lot of weight, things in my home were uneventful but meh... Old friends noticed something had shifted in me, but as me they accepted that life was hard, things are easier when you are younger, it's a cruel world out there, you can't trust anyone, we have come to this earth to suffer and we are to be rewared in the next life after our deaths.

See, it's hard not arriving at those conclusions when your negativity and that from others takes a toll on you. It's hard not thinking all that when you just don't know any better. The evidence is there, for starters. Or at least what it appears to be the evidence, regardless of actual correlation with causation.

But life has a way of moving things back to where they belonged. I was desperate for answers, I missed the days when stuff was easier and exciting. I missed High School...

I had a small period of summer vacations and I spoke about how I felt with a family friend. I viewed her as a positive and wise presence in my life and thougth “what the heck, I need to try something, anything!”

She told me that I was putting so much attention on the external circumstances. She wanted me to go to church, yes, not because of my homosexuality (which she agreed to keep a secret from my father; until now, my brother was the only one that knew, as I wrote previously) but because I forgot to "fill myself with light".

Now, I knew she was refering to God's presence inside my heart, but something was removed... a feeling, or a faint memory... I was once filled with light, but not because God filled me with it like an external agent, but because that was... that was who I was once.

Filled with light.

Something shifted a little inside me. I needed to fill myself with light. I knew I needed to re-learn how it was done. I was more negative than when I was 13 years old.

So I retraced my steps and thought maybe it was writing stories that helped me achieve that, you know, having an artistic avenue to empower my soul, which I stopped doing as it became next to impossible to find inspiration. I developed chronic writer's block, you see.

I soon found out that was not it. Well, maybe listening to upbeat music would help, and it did a little but I kept accentuating how bad my life got relative to all the happy lyrics.

This I now understand is what happens when you have negative momentum going on. I had trained myself into negativity. I complained about stuff daily, I reviewed the horrible things that happened to me daily, I begrudged the things I thought were stolen frome me somehow, I made myself cry frequently. I was depressed. I took antidepressants for some time but they made me feel zombie-like.

No, I once tasted life, real life. Those pills weren't it. You won't get an argument from me, if you need them, you need them, no shame in that. But I decided to suspend them. There had to be something more to life.

I took therapy right during my first semester at med school, but that didn't worked for me. Oh, sure, we talked about good studying habits and how my dad made me feel, and how lonely I felt and some vague strategies, but that was it. It quickly turned into new avenue for me to complain even more.

But after hearing this family friend, that bit about light, something within me became agitated. I began reading self-help books, as one does. Rhonda Byrne's The Secret did catched my eye, but I read it a year later.

I decided to go to church and maybe find the light there. And there I met and made positive friends. With them, having moments of peace, of just being in the moment, were more frequent. I must have changed frequencies because suddenly I began making new friends inside med school that proved to be a more positive presence for me. Still, no light, at least not how I remembered it. I had fun in church, laying low about my homosexuality and just coming out to someone if I felt safe doing so.

Keep in mind that I never correlated loving life with that magic that permeated it those years back. Now I can see it, but I never understood it back then.

Enter Lynn Grabhorn's book Excuse me, you life is waiting. I don't remember how I found it but I did and suddenly my life made total sense. It didn't change, but it made sense.

And I panicked! Now I knew the light was inside myself, but that was the problem: the light was inside myself, waiting to be rekindled but that was a problem because I was so negative.

Thinks changed for the better, but just enough. I developed a crush on a guy in the church choir. That crush was doomed to fail. He was everything I wanted in a guy: tender, educated, a good listener, nice, smart, he worked hard, and had a good sense of humour. He became a close friend, I knew all about how he was in love with a girl from the church choir. I did what every one does upon learning about the law of attraction and vibrations: I tried attracting a relationship with him. Next day, I found them kissing in a street and I crumbled. I was a mess.

I spiraled downward again, but tried desperately to climb back quickly. So every chance I got I bought new books about the Law of Attraction. The answer is going to be in this new book, or the next one, or the next after that, I told myself, desperately looking for a way to rekindle my light.

Still, in spite of knowing what to do, I continued with my recurrent bouts of whining, self-pity, criticism, sadness, righteous anger, etc, instead of filling myself with what I needed.

I began doing all kinds of meditations. I tried casting spells. I looked into witchcraft. I was desperate. But nothing gave me back my light. I know I was looking in the wrong places, but I was convinced that something had to give me back my magic.

Meditation certainly helped. Abraham-Hicks's Getting Into the Vortex Guided Meditation helped me meditate correctly for the first time in all of my life. It felt amazing, but I was still an anxious mess.

I entered into relationship after relationship, but I couldn't find true love. I ended those relationships instead of wasting someone else´s time. I still felt lonely and hurt. I wanted the choir guy to fall in love with me. I had this arguments with him inside my head. I felt so anxious and desperate.

I decided to change my perspective. Up until now I thought that no one liked me as a potential romantic partner. I repeated patterns: if the guy was gay, I did not felt attracted to them; if they were straight, my hopes were doomed.

Once again, though, I had to stop myself in my tracks and tell myself the truth. It wasn't bad luck, guys did noticed me, they just weren't the guys that I wanted to notice me. So, I relaxed and decided to be open minded and went out to meet some of those guys. I didn't liked them, but tried. I lowered my expectations. I tried having fun. None of them lasted enough and I told myself that was fine. I was just meeting people, nothing more.

Now, you might remember how I mentioned that I met online my future husband in my late teens, the day I declared I was going to meet him, but turned him down because he was two year younger than. Well, he is about to enter this story. Meeting has a lot to do with what I am trying to convey through all the posts in this blog.

#GratitudeMagic #gratitude #Grattitude #Pop culture magick #magick #witchblr #witchcraft #witchlife #Lumos #laws of universe #law of attraction

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3500things · 5 years ago

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national coming out day 2019

originally posted 10.11.2019 on my personal facebook page

To everyone:

National Coming Out Day is today, Friday October 11, 2019.

And I know this post is late. I realize it is after midnight on the east coast so technically it isn’t National Coming Out Day anymore, but something happened tonight that was monumental- and I didn’t get to finish my initial thought while writing earlier. Keep reading, please:

I am excited to celebrate in my first National Coming Out Day, in 2019, as an officially-out member of the gay community. However, today has been very emotional as it causes me to pause for a moment and reflect on my own journey and how I arrived here. As I am reading articles and newsfeeds on the internet today and seeing people compelled in the acceptance and encouragement of this day, to come out, I must say I have very pointed and mixed emotions.

I have mentioned and identified myself as a gay man in a few blogs that I have written recently (that I am sure nobody reads), however, this is really the first time I have publicly acknowledged it as a whole on Facebook- other than to those who I have directly come out to. I have taken pleasure in promoting myself as an ally for a few years now, but I am tired of hiding behind that identity and am ready to step out into the light and live a full, unfiltered and authentic life.

I have known I was different for a long time. I felt feelings as a young child that I simply did not understand, and those feelings did not go away- they never have and only intensified over time. I was raised in an extremely conservative-Christian household, taught that being gay was an immoral and unnatural thing, I got the hellfire and brimstone speech and I was encouraged and forced to speak hate towards things that were supposedly against God. And I did those things. And I hurt people. And I never wanted to do them. But, I always knew that I was what I was forced to speak out about.

I became extremely depressed and suicidal in my teenage years. I tucked away my true self and I damaged myself mentally and physically with the rhetoric I was forced to digest. I never felt like I could be me, until now. In this moment. But getting to this point hasn’t been easy. It has been countless therapy sessions, panic attacks, many nights crying myself to sleep and length of time to get me to finally accept myself and allow myself to explore with the God-given (yes, God-given) gift that being gay has ultimately brought me.

Let’s talk about God for just a quick moment. Know that I am a spiritual person but there is no religion here. Not a drop.

You can throw Genesis 19, Leviticus 18 & 20, Romans 1:18-32, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10 at me all day. The Bible says what it says, but it does not mean anything to me personally. The Bible was a manuscript that was written for an ancient time, in an ancient time and does not take into consideration the advancements in human thought and condition over the many years since its inception. The Bible should not be a standard to compare, govern nor should it be used as a tool ultimately control how people live nowadays. Without discrediting the text itself, I do believe there are great life-lessons to be learned from the Bible about love and how to conduct yourself in a more upright way. However, I believe that taking the current Christian argument to the case of homosexuality is the wrong thing to do. And I will vehemently disagree with anyone who does this. It is damaging. It is hurtful and it adds no real value to anything.

Contrary to what religious types will argue, being gay is not wrong. It is not ungodly; it is not a sin and gay people will not go to Hell- even if there is such a place. Being gay is way more than a physical thing. It is an emotional intelligence, it is the idea of love, acceptance and tolerance that comes with a huge responsibility. Being gay is not defined by who you love or choose to be intimate with or enter into marriage with. It is not a choice; it is a reality, a truth, a tangible thing. It is also a greater expansion of oneself, ones spirit and your ability to express love and accept love.

Saying that I was a repressed gay man until the age of 34 is the understatement of the year. I wanted so desperately to explore my sexuality in high school, when at age 16 I decided that I had struggled long enough with trying to figure out what being gay meant and finally internally accepted that I was.

However, I didn’t have the freedom to operate in or express my sexuality, as a teen in my household, at the time. I got bullied in school for not dating women, so I did, and I eventually married a woman. Several years in, while trying rather unsuccessfully at keeping the charade going and while being accused almost daily of being a closeted gay man- we divorced. I had to lie to my friends and family, I had to create a scenario where I was the good guy and she was the bad guy and she did all these things that contributed to the breakdown in our marriage. I wanted something that I felt like I couldn’t have at the time and I couldn’t be the partner she needed much less deserved. We are both better people apart than we ever were together and marrying her is the single biggest regret in my life.

As I’ve grown older and started to formulate my own opinions and ideas about things, I decided to distance myself from my faith and seek a journey of my own understanding. Part of that journey was finally resolving in this year to come out to friends and family.

I told everyone by the end of July, except my dad. I know his opinion of gay folks- he has made it clear. Nothing derogatory of course, but the ignorance to it shows through sometimes. I also know where he stands from a religious perspective- he has also made that clear. He has accepted my friends who are gay, he wants to meet my new friends who are RubiGirls, see a drag show and he wants to know things or ask things but is sometimes hesitant to do it.

I’ve been on an exposure-therapy campaign with him over the past several months. I put a pride flag in my bedroom, some drag queen paraphernalia went on display, I went to 2 Pride celebrations this year- one in Dayton and the other in Cincinnati. He knows what I’m doing is out of the ordinary for me because I’ve never done it before but have always wanted to and have been interested in it. I wanted to go to a Pride event for many years, but I just couldn’t do it. So, as I’ve slowly been exposing him to things and being a little more vocal about my standpoints and viewpoints on LGBTQIA+ issues in the news and culture, he has started to gather and form an opinion.

Today, I was reading a page on Facebook that stated it was a moderated safe space for individuals who were not out to talk and share their stories. What I read was heartbreaking; just the sheer ignorance of parents and things they say to their children just for being gay. I wanted to talk to dad about it, and I did. I told him some of the terrible things that happened to people- mostly issues between sons and fathers- and he expressed to me his disgust with families disowning children just for being gay. I understand and fully appreciate his comment of “…well, I don’t understand it totally, but I’d want my kid to be happy and healthy. There are bigger ‘crimes’ than being gay.”

This ultimately led into a 90+ minute conversation where I was able to tell him how I felt and my entire 16-year backstory. There is more to discuss between he and I, but my tone was measured and precise. The main thing I needed to say, in order to heal myself, be true to myself and allow myself to advance in my life were these 4 words: Dad, I am gay.

We talked and talked some more. He is not mad, a little confused (which is a normal response), and more reflective. He expressed to me that he wants me to be happy, healthy and to make wise decisions (typical dad advice). He also said he loves me and supports me, and always will, regardless of any decision I make – good or bad – in my life.

What a relief this is! On my first real National Coming Out Day I was able to finish writing the prologue of my story of becoming the person I always knew I could be. I am starting to write the chapters of my new life around all the garbage that is in the past. It’s a new day and I am ready to face it with the full support and love of my parents by my side. I truly am blessed and lucky to have this experience play out as it did. A lot of people do not get what I have, and I am very fortunate.

For those of you who need support in whatever journey you may be on, reach out to me if you feel comfortable in doing so. I’m a safe person to come out to. If you’re reading this and you have questions, contact me too. I’m an open book- ask away. If you’re reading this, and you have nothing positive or of value to say then move on.

Thanks for allowing me to share my life so unfiltered and express that vulnerability on the internet for all to consume. This goes a long way in my healing and with moving forward in my life. And, thank you to all of those who have supported me in the past several months as I have made declarations to you about my life. Your love and support mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough.

Love, Jacob

#national coming out day #2019 #storiesfromtheheart

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 6 years ago

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Love is Love - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: I need,,,, more Punk!Gerard in my life,,,, okay but seriously- can I request a Punk!Gerard fic? Also can the reader be male and can it be angst?? Thankies bro!! Take your time on it!!!!

Reader: male

Warnings: homophobic slurs, Spoiler Alert for ‘Love Simon’

Word count: 3 424

A/N: I watched ‘Love Simon’ (so spoiler alert) a while ago and got seriously upset about his friends’ behavior after he got outed. And I wanted to put things right in a way, because there has to be some weird shit going on with me if I don’t befriend the forcibly outed kid when I notice none of their friends are around.

Your eyes flickered over the screen again and again, not able to believe what you were reading. You reloaded the page, just to be sure, but the black letters were still clearly being displayed on the school’s anonymous confession website.

“Gerard Way is a fag”

You were not sure which part of the statement was disturbing you the most. Obviously this was not the way someone wanted to come out. You would not want to come out like that at least. So someone had outed this boy, probably without his consent. Someone who was, judging by the word they had chosen, homophobic.

It was no secret that your school was not the most LGBT+ friendly ground in town, but it still disgusted you. And then there was that name. You had never really talked to Gerard before, but you knew he was in art class with one of your friends. Apparently he was pretty good a drawing. And he would definitely not have been on top of your ‘who might be gay but not out’-list. You did not really have a list, neither on paper nor in your mind, but Gerard really was not within the first twenty names you would have said if someone had asked you who you thought was gay on your school. Of course you could not just look at people and tell if they were homosexual, but being gay yourself, you would have expected some sort of instinct or something kick in. Apparently not.

Anyway, Gerard was one of the lonely punk students at your school. You knew he had a brother, Mikey, but he was younger and not yet on the same school, his friend Ray had moved away before summer break and other than him you had never seen anyone talk to Gerard.

You wondered if he knew. Did he just sit in front of his laptop, like you? Was his heart beating faster, his chest imploding, tears falling down his cheeks? You knew that would be your reaction if someone outed you, especially like that. ‘Gerard Way is a faggot’, who would write, say, or even think something like that? Had people no respect for each other? Why could some people not just accept that love is love? On the other hand, you knew why you were not out. Because there were too many people who were not tolerant, and you were not even sure if your friends would have your back.

~*~

You had kind of hoped that Gerard’s sexuality would not be topic number one when you walked to school with your friends on the first day of the new school year. But the post was barely a week old, and people were too excited to see Gerard, now that they knew this thing about him, that seemed to change the way they looked at him. Idiots.

The lunch room was as crowded as you remembered. People pushed around and tried to get their favorite spots in the room. You sat at a table close to the door, a warm breeze of late summer air blowing past your bare arms.

“Okay, but seriously? I always thought something was weird about him,” your friend Gina declared, placing her tablet down next to yours and sliding into the bench, her knee brushing against yours.

“But he a girlfriend last year, right,” Paul, another one of your friends replied, making space for Mark, the fourth in the group.

“Imagine how she must be feeling right now,” he said, looking across the hall to where the girl was sitting.

“Imagine how he must be feeling right now,” you answered, not being able to stay quiet any longer. “Imagine some ass posts something so personal about you, how would you feel?”

Your blood was boiling, had been since you had seen that post last week, but within the last hours, you really, really had gotten very angry. Especially at whoever had submitted that post. And since the submission box of the website posted automatically, no one had checked it before it had been thrown out there, probably ruining this poor boys holiday, if not even high school time.

“It’s something people deserve to know though,” Mark shrugged.

“Deserve? What’s wrong with you man,” you wanted to jump up, shout, shake some sense into your friend, but you had to stay calm. “What next? Should everyone wear a sign around their neck, saying ‘straight’, or ‘gay’ or ‘bi’ or ‘pan’ or whatever?”

“Well, he’s just trying to say it’s not normal,” Paul jumped in, making you even angrier.

“Normal? Of course it’s normal, it’s love. Love’s normal. It’s just not as common,” you argued. Shit, you were seriously upset now. You felt personally attacked. And how should you not? They were basically insulting you. They just did not know it.

“It’s just a little freakish,” Gina said, definitely not helping.

“Freakish, how can-“

In that moment all noise around you stopped. People grew quiet and the white noise of clicking forks against porcelain faded, everyone staring at the door. Confused you turned around as well, and were met with the sight of a very pale Gerard Way. His long, black hair fell into his eyes, his shoulders were slumped and his black jacket was pulled tightly around his body, like a shield. He looked so lost and even a little scared, it broke your heart. And for the first time you noticed how pretty he actually was. It was a macabre beauty, dark circles under his eyes, greasy hair, looking a like a beaten dog, but he was beautiful. He would probably look breathtaking if he had a good night’s sleep, a little bit of sunlight, and a shower. You wondered what his smile looked like, if his eyes would sparkle along, before realizing that now was probably one of the worst moments to realize you had just started crushing on him. After all you just had a discussion about homophobia with your friends.

About a hundred pairs of eyes followed the pale boy as he walked over to the serving counter and paid for a plate with pasta. Slowly the conversations started picking back up, but your eyes still followed Gerard. He looked around for a moment before sitting at the end of a table, a few seat away from a group of seniors. They stuck their heads together, before they all got up, carrying their full tablets to the next table. You wanted to run over and scream at them, but you stayed seated, instead just throwing another glance at Gerard. His head hung low, hair covering his face. And then you realized he was alone. No one sat with him. No one was there to talk to him, to comfort him.

“Look who’s in the house! It’s our faggot!” someone, doubtlessly one of the brainless jocks, screamed through the room, earning laughs left and right. Even your three friends laughed. “Wanna suck my dick?”

Enough was enough, you decided. Without another word, ignoring the questions of your friends, you got up and grabbed your tablet. Your mind was clouded with rage as you walked over to the almost empty table. Only the loud slamming of your plastic tablet against the table pulled you back into reality.

Gerard’s head shot up at the noise, wide, hazel eyes staring up at you in fear. You ignored him and sat down in front of him, continuing your lunch without a word. When he was still staring at you after almost a minute you looked up.

“This seat is not taken, is it,” you asked, lifting your eyebrows.

A smile tucked at Gerard’s lips. Holy shit, he looked beautiful when he smiled.

“It is now,” he answered, his cheeks hinting at a tinge of pink.

“Good,” you said, smiling back at him before you continued eating.

~*~

You only realized that you had not thought of the consequences of your actions during the following days. After you had had lunch in silence, you finally started talking to Gerard, about art and music, about your families, about anything but his sexuality or his outing. And you noticed how much you had in common, yet how different you were.

During the following days, you started to hang out more with Gerard, during school, and after school. And what else would you have expected than an increasing number of homophobic slurs being thrown your way. Of course everyone assumed you were gay now, just because you hung out with someone who was. They were not wrong, but the rudeness, the unacceptance, the brutality of their words hurt you more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So you stayed strong, during school at least. Gerard had it a lot worse than you, so you stayed strong for him. He sometimes told you to stay away from him, for your own sake, but you just laughed at that.

In fact it turned out that it had become impossible for you to stay away from him. A force stronger than gravity drew you towards him, and while you tried to convince yourself that you were not already head over heels for the dark haired punk, deep down you knew that that was a lie.

So you found yourself lying awake at night. The insults of the day made your throat tighten, your eyes burn and your heart heavy, but then you remembered Gerard, looked at the glowing display of your mobile portraying his profile picture, and you knew it was worth it.

It was yet another sleepless night, the bright screen of your mobile illuminating your face, when suddenly the door to your room slowly opened. You sat up in your bed, trying to spy through the darkness.

“(Y/n), are you still awake,” you heard the familiar voice of your mother whisper.

“Yeah, you can come in,” you answered, turning on the light on your bedside table.

Your mother was living alone with you in the small house, and judging by the time your alarm clock displayed she had just come home from her shift in the hospital where she worked as a nurse.

“Everything okay, dear,” she asked, stepping into the room. Doubtlessly she had noticed your red eyes as she strode over to the bed and sat down on the blanket next to you.

“Yeah- I mean… not really, it’s just-“ you took a deep breath. You had thought these words through countless times, always thought how you wanted to come out to her, when, with which words. “Did I tell you about Gerard?”

“He’s a new friend of yours, right,” she recalled correctly.

“Yes, he- ahm… he’s gay, you know,” you carefully watched your mother’s expression as you told her about Gerard’s sexuality, but she just listened without showing any sign of emotional reaction. “He got outed during the last week of holidays, and… well, school’s pretty much hell for him right now.”

She nodded understandingly.

“The first day after holidays, he was sitting alone at lunch, and literally everyone stared at him, or talked about how being gay is freakish, and I just got… so… angry. So I went to sit with him, and yeah, that’s how I know him.”

“That was nice of you, I’m sure he’s glad to have you,” you mother told you, gently patting your arm when she noticed how upset you were about that topic.

“But since we started hanging out… people… they think I’m gay too, and I get all these insults and all this… I don’t even know what to call it… hate? I walk through a corridor, and people just yell stuff, so Gerard asked me to stop hanging out with him, so I wouldn’t get… you know, hurt,” you stuttered. You didn’t want to stop hanging out with Gerard, you didn’t want to stop being friends with him. You wanted to get to know him better, you wanted to be closer to him, you wanted so much more than just friendship, but he tried to push you away. And you had to share your thoughts with someone, and your mother was the best choice for that, at least at the moment. But first of all you had to tell her something else, something that was bigger than the thing with Gerard.

Your mother was still thinking about your words, quietly nodding when you continued, your throat tight, your voice wet from tears.

“I’m in love with him,” you confessed, biting your lip so it would not quiver, “I’m in love with Gerard, mum. And I’ve been in love with other boys before. I’m, I’m-“

You couldn’t say it. Something inside you fought against that word, that label. Love is love, why did you have to label yourself?

“You are my son,” your mother finished the sentence for you. “You are my son and you are beautiful and perfect and I feel very honored that you talk to me about these things.”

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. Her shirt still smelled of the disinfectant of the hospital, a smell that reminded you of your childhood. She patted your back for a while, whispering how proud she was of you.

“So…” you pulled away, your face heated from crying, your eyes burning and your voice hoarse. “About Gerard, what do you think should I do?”

“What do you want to do,” your mother asked back.

You watched her, expected her to look differently at you now that you had come out, like all the people looked differently at Gerard now. But she just looked at you like she always had, with so much love in her eyes, the way only a mother can look at you.

“I want to be with him,” you told her, and you really, really wanted to be with him.

“Then tell him, tell him exactly that,” she smiled and patted your knee while you nodded.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you suddenly realized. “You knew I’m into boys.”

A mysterious smile played around her lips. “Not really, I suspected it sometimes.”

~*~

For the first time in this school year you felt actually confident when you entered the school building. You would tell Gerard how you felt about him, that you wanted him to be your boyfriend, to be his boyfriend. If he said no? Okay, not cool, but you could deal with that. You wouldn’t just leave him alone in the mess that he was in due to him being outed. You would stay by his side, if he wanted that. And if he felt the same way? Then you would probably die of a heart attack, but that would be worth it.

You had showered and put on your favorite deodorant, your worn out Smashing Pumpkins shirt and some comfortable jeans. You felt ready to deal with whatever fate threw your way. Until you reached Gerard’s locker.

Black spray paint letters spelled out the words ‘fag’ and ‘cocksucker’. You wanted to vomit. For a while you stood next to Gerard who stared at his locker in silence. At first you felt paralyzed. You wanted to wish the slurs away, wanted to rip the door of the locker off and beat these bastards up with it, you wanted to delete all memory of this from Gerard’s brain. But none of this was within the range of your capacity, so once you had stared at the locker for long enough, you grabbed Gerard’s wrist and dragged him to the director’s office.

It turned out to be a long conversation. The director listened to your story, which you told from the beginning, just to make sure he understood everything. Gerard just sat in his chair, head hanging low, wishing to be invisible. Then the director made Gerard tell his side of the story. The man in the big chair said some well-meant words of encouragement and told you that there was nothing he could do.

You stared at him disbelievingly.

“Are you seriously telling me that you can do nothing against bullies who insult and hurt and mentally scar one of your students,” you asked, totally forgetting who you were talking to.

“You don’t say it, maybe not even think it consciously, but somewhere inside this messed up brain of yours there is this rule that states that homosexuals, probably transgender kids as well, are worth less than your ‘normal, everyday’ student” you drew the quotation marks into the air. “You know who was gay? Oskar Wilde, and you teach his literature in school. You know who else was gay? Alan Turing, the father of modern computers. Hell, Turing even killed himself because of the way society treated him. And now everyone pities him. Do you really want to be the kind of person who tells a kid they’re sick, or a freak or whatever fucked up insult your mind comes up with? Do you want to be the one who stands in front of the world, declaring love is wrong? Because that’s all it is, love. Being gay is loving, being bi is loving, being lesbian is loving! It’s just the ‘wrong gender’ you love. Wrong the fuck! It’s society that’s wrong if they think love can ever be wrong. Not talking about pedophiles or the fucked up abusive kind of love, I’m talking about mutual love. And maybe it hasn’t come to your notice yet, but if you think discriminating against gays is some hip trend, then surprise! It’s not and your views are obsolete. The UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, France, countless other countries, do you know what they have in common? Same sex marriages are legalized. The states too, by the way. Because these governments seem to get what neither you, nor your homophobic student body, get: that it’s just love after all, and that’s the bloody truth!”

There was a stunned silence after you had spoken, and for a moment you were afraid that you would get suspended or something, but then the director nodded and agreed before promising he would take care of the matter.

When you were finally out of the stuffy office, standing in an empty corridor, you took a deep breath. You could feel Gerard’s eyes on you, so you looked over at him.

“Those were some pretty powerful words in there,” he complimented with a smirk, a smirk that was so soft and gentle and adoring that you wanted to kiss him here on the spot.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“It almost sounded like… please don’t take this the wrong way, like you knew what you were talking about.”

“Being afraid of getting hurt for loving someone of the same gender,” you wondered and he nodded. “Well… let’s say it was pretty easy since the person I love sat right next to me.”

Gerard’s eyes widened for a moment as he realized the meaning of your words and he gasped for air.

“You, you are… you-“ A smile brighter than any you had seen before spread over his face, lighting up the whole room.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” you told him, unable to keep your own grin under control.

When Gerard nodded furiously, you gently took his face into your hands and pressed your lips against his. They were soft, tasted a bit of Tabaco and coffee. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you were running out of breath faster than you liked. Your head was spinning and you hoped that holding onto Gerard’s face was enough to keep you standing. When you pulled away, he chuckled slightly.

“Technically I was sitting on your left,” he whispered into your ear.

Confused you turned your head to look at him, almost forgetting what you wanted to say as you met his beautiful, shining eyes.

“What?”

“You said ‘the person you love sitting right next to you’, but I sat on your left,” he winked.

“Idiot,” you giggled, gently nudging his shoulder, “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Gerard agreed, sounding incredibly pleased knowing that his feelings were being returned.

In that moment the bell rang and you heard chairs being moved around on the floor, and chatter growing louder behind the still closed doors.

Warm, soft fingers intertwined with yours, making your heart flutter.

“Shall we,” Gerard asked.

You leant forward, pressing your lips against his again quickly before the first doors flung open and revealed you to the rest of the students.

“Yeah, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #gerard way fluff #gerard way x reader fluf #gerard way x reader fluff #male!reader #punk!gerard #high school #high school au #coming out #fanfiction #fanfic #cute #fluff #support

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lemonsknees · 6 years ago

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Is the Bible clear on Homosexuality?

reposting this here cause apparently while i was off learning about the Bible my other account got flagged, go figure ¯\_(’-’)_/¯

I have been attending a bible college for a year now. Why? Because I have a passion for the Lord and have an unhealthy desire to know all the things. Now I would have attended regardless but I had some ulterior goals in mind when I started attending. I wanted to know what caused people to be homophobic. I myself am bisexual (though at the moment i’m very firmly at the back of the closet like I’m hanging out with C. S. Lewis in Narnia rn). So the school doesn’t know about this. But I also have close family member who is apart of the LGBT that had a large hand in raising me and the school does know about them. so when I question into things like this the other students and the teachers think it’s on the basis of concern for them.

Now I could go on about the homophobic behaviors I noticed during the year, in fact I have a copy in which I tried to go through it and it just took to long to try to go over exactly what they were getting wrong every time. so instead of doing that I’d like to go over something that people said repeatedly which got on my nerves and kill it.

“The bible has a very clear view of homosexuality and if a church accepts people of the LGBT it means that they aren’t a Biblically accurate church”

The Bible doesn’t actually discuss homosexuality often at all. People like to look at verses about marriage but the Biblical examples of marriage aren’t exactly meant to be the ‘ideal.’ The book which supposedly the best example of what marriage is supposed to be like, The song of Solomon, was written by a man with multiple wives.

The occasions where the bible does talk about homosexuality it isn’t talking about a loving relationship between two people the way we understand it today. I’ll be looking at three (fourish) places where its talked about.

Sodom: this is one most people don’t really get caught up on if they’ve actually read the story instead of just thinking they know what sodomy means (it actually means any form of sexual activity which isn’t meant to produce children not specifically homosexual) the story of Sodom and Gomorra is that two angels entered the city and found lodging in Lot’s house. After they’d entered the house however they had to struggle to keep the people of the city out of the house because they wanted to drag the men out and rape them. lot’s response is to offer up his two daughters to them instead (an example of how even the people the Bible roots for aren’t people who we are meant to model our lives after) the crowds don’t accept Lot’s offer and God ultimately decides to destroy the city. Now having read this is it safe to assume that God destroyed the city because the people there were gay? Or was it maybe because they tried to gangrape foreigners?

This isn’t even the last instance in which we see this. In judges there’s a story that is very similar to this. A man is visiting and stays in someone’s house, the people of the town descend on the house and demand to be allowed to rape this man. The man who owns the house instead offers them the visitors mistress. This time they accept the offer and the woman is raped to death. This story is an awful one to read, and the narrative treats it as such, a war is started over the death of this woman. Because of the parallels between this story and the one of Sodom and Gomorra and how no one ever sights this as a story against homosexuality but against rape and the mistreatment of foreigners I think it is safe and Biblical to assume that Sodom was destroyed for the sins of such, rape and mistreatment of foreigners.

Leviticus has a law specifically against a man sleeping with another man, this is easily dismissible as another law that was only applicable to the Jewish people, but let’s look at why this would have been in place. Culturally woman were seen as lower than men, to sleep with another man would be seen as him lowering his partner to the status of a woman. Sexual relationships were barred outside of marriage, marriages were arranged for the purpose of bringing children, thus two men had no chance of ever getting married, thus making it unlawful by default. A man would be likely be cheating on his wife to do so. A woman sleeping with another woman would be seen as ruining her value as a virgin in an arranged marriage or other wise she would be cheating on her husband.

Now all this to say that what is being described here is a far way off from committed gay relationships that are seen today and that cultural views have a huge impact on things like this. A lot of these things can be said about other points against gay marriage but I will try to avoid repeating myself.

It is also worth noting that the church has historically not taken the other Levitical laws which fall into the same category as seriously as they’ve taken this one.

Lastly for this I’d like to discuss Paul’s comments on the subject. Again we need to look at the cultural meaning of what he is saying. A lot of it is the same as before but now Paul is talking to the Greeks, who have a different culture than the Jewish people. Non Jewish people,(gentiles) were allowed into the church after the death and resurrection of Jesus. When this decision was made the church had a large debate on whether or not gentile converts had to follow Levitical law. The ultimate decision was that they didn’t, (again a point against the Levitical law against this) the laws which the gentiles were however to follow were the ten commandments, they were to follow laws against idolatry (such as not eating any meat that had been offered to idols or other gods) and that they were to avoid fornication, or sexual intercourse between people not married to each other (again a main point here is that gay marriage wasn’t a thing even conceived at that time

Now those of you who know your history will know that the romans and Greeks were pretty gay. Paul knew this too and came against this pretty harshly. Why? Because being gay is a sin? Maybe. Or maybe because people were sleeping with one another at temples as a form of worship to the Greek gods, or maybe because all gay sex was extramarital. Or maybe because the view of sexuality at the time wasn’t I fall in love with such and such type of people. Instead people, when a person slept with a person of the same gender saw it as that person being so lustful that they wanted to sleep with everyone.

There’s also the point that the apostles were convinced that the end was coming any day. Paul was working as quickly as he could under the assumption that the end could be any day, going so far as to tell people it was better to just not get married unless you absolutely needed to in order to avoid fornication. He didn’t exactly think he had time to fix the social climate beyond declaring the Lord and condemning those who continued to sleep with those they were not married to.

So can the argument be made from a Biblical perspective against gay marriage and homosexual relationships? I won’t say no. in fact I’ve met plenty of people in my life who have committed themselves to being single in order to avoid being in sin. And if a persons convictions lean to that view I’d honestly recommend the same. If you’re convinced something is wrong you shouldn’t do it. But if you don’t have that sense, I want you to know that the Bible is in fact not clear on this issue. I was watch a video an atheist made about why he became so. One of the reasons he listed was he realized that if people are born gay that means being gay is the only sin that a person is born into. Don’t let this be the thing that destroys your faith. Don’t let the church be a stumbling block to Jesus. Don’t let them dismiss you in this way. The Bible isn’t clear on this. There are other arguments out there with as much biblical validity as the argument that it’s wrong. I’d recommend that a person prayerfully listen to both sides of this if they are looking for which is true. I obviously have a preference but you shouldn’t just accept what I say, instead please go and do your own research on the subject and find people who are respectful and willing to talk to you about this. if you wanna talk to me i’m definitely open to listening. (actually i’d be really excited that someone wanted to talk to me)

sorry that this is more an argument against homophobia than something like against Transphobia, i’ve sort of been hyper focusing on the subject,but if you’re trans and want some encouragement then i suggest you read Galatians 3:28!

i’m not on tumblr often anymore but my discord is lemons knqueezies#6065 so feel free to talk to me there, or if you didn’t like this feel free to send me funny and clever insults to my character!

have a great day :D God Bless!

#Bible #Biblical Argument for homosexuality

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