#it's also about being an outcast. about being closeted. about not fitting in. possibly about being neurodivergent if i'm not careful. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

og-danny-dorito · 4 years ago

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{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

- it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

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uncurlinglikeflowers · 3 years ago

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Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well.

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked.

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys�� locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things.

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure.

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance.

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before.

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him.

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay.

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways.

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts.

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most.

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval.

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family.

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general.

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles.

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek.

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life?

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride.

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today.

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process.

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection.

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us.

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

#pride #gay #lgbt #journaling #love #queer #coming out #coming out stories #queer trauma #adolescent trauma #self love #healing #trauma

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deerth · 3 years ago

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my first mistake in witchcraft

yes i’m going to be petty over religion for a second here.

i have been slowly inching out of the broom closet as i now consciously move on from the atheist mindset to the pagan one. i was looking for more resources to research my path, and i ended up on a witchy server... woe unto me as i try to fit in once more, for it seems that not even witches are unified.

forget about all that shit about garden, cosmos and whatever witches. the religion actually broadly branches into two practices - Wicca and regular witchcraft. so you are primarily the one or the other, no matter what flavour of ritual you practice.

the primary difference between Wiccans and general witchcraft is your belief of whether religion can be used for harm or not. in short, Wiccans state “an it harm none, do as ye will” (as long as you don’t hurt anyone [including yourself], go bonkers), therefore you will not find Wiccans casting curses or hexes. we know the responsibility of our faith and we know that if you radiate bad vibes, it will come right back around to bite you in the ass later. that said, most Wiccans don’t mind witches who do curse or hex. some cultures use practices like voodoo, and even old eastern European practices were not free of rituals that were made to directly interfere with someone’s will (love spells that were supposed to make someone love you). therefore, a disclaimer: I’m not anti-hex. I would not use a hex because I feel that hate will not solve hate, and as long as you’re an adult, I trust you know what you’re doing with your power. maybe you are of an oppressed culture and have good reason to exact revenge on someone who severely hurt you, especially if you have a long-standing tradition of hexes. even Nina Simone sang “I Put a Spell on You” (albeit this is also a love spell). I know curses and hexes and even spells affecting with another’s free will are an inherent part of witchcraft and I won’t deny it. I follow my doctrine, you follow yours, that is fine by me.

what is NOT fine with me, however, is propagating hex culture among minors. why? because minors are not ready to take on that responsibility!!!! just like they are not truly ready to make healthy decisions about sex, alcohol or other substances, they cannot take true responsibility over causing harm, be it spiritual or otherwise. “what’s a little hex do?” you might ask, if you’re a minor. not to sound like a boomer, but when I was 16, I was edgy as fuck. I hated everyone while claiming to love everyone. I was in NO correct mental state to make decisions about the aforementioned things. even without casting any hexes, I made many mistakes. big ones. I hurt a lot of people. yes, I regret it all deeply. I wish I had thought things over rather than stay stubborn. in fact, most people under 20 are not ready to enter discourse, drama or a vicious cycle of hatred purely because it will always turn into “all bite but no bark”. I purposefully say it that way because although youngsters are admirably spirited and ready to take on the world... they often bite off more than they can chew. I see girlies straight out of high school trying to solve huge problems like racism, and although, again, admiring these young people, they have researched their stuff. to an extent, they know what they’re talking about... but I do believe hate will not solve hate.

one of the moderators of said server retaliated with it not being a universal truth, and claimed my take to be “unverified personal gnosis” (what is a verified gnosis, anyway? how do you measure it? especially in a practice like witchcraft where every bloody individual practises it differently and there are no priests or churches?). if the moderator happens to read this and wishes to elaborate, i’d be welcome for a bit of constructive discussion over what is and isn’t personal gnosis. I acknowledge that “hate cannot be fought with hate” is not a universal truth... that is perhaps where I went to the extreme. but believe me, I did not say it to be holier-than-thou. I was actually shocked to be called out by not one, but two moderators on my behaviour, instantly. I did not read in the rules that one would be forbidden to state their opinion or softly disagree, but perhaps it is so and I did not pay enough attention.

there comes another food for thought: is it possible to socialise without being opinionated in any way? would shutting down opinions truly prevent conflict? because I’m feeling very bitter and left out now. I know everyone on that server is not Wiccan. but to get slapped in the face right after I attempted to be friendly (laconic and feeble as that was), among who I considered to be my own people... I feel conflicted. now mind, I’m not going to leave witchcraft behind. it is my religion, and thanks to this experience, I learned that Wicca is the right thing for me. I don’t want to advocate for violence and a vicious cycle of hatred. my grandfather was Romani, therefore I believe I know a thing or two about mislabeling and hate enacted upon minorities and outcast people. does that mean I want to kill and hex every white in sight? the answer is no. if anything, me being both Wiccan and Romani, it would just add fuel to the fire. especially because Romani are stereotyped as evil witches in the first place, so it would be a double suicide. by propagating violence, I would give these people more reason to hate pagans and Romani people. both cultures are already feared and hated upon as it is. I am not going to give people more opportunity to hate me.

coming back to the minor I disagreed with in the server. I was shocked that the first thing that came to a teenager’s mind was a revenge hex. it screams of naiveté and irresponsible behaviour towards your faith. and not JUST your faith. as I am a student of psychology, I am well aware how mind patterns work, and here’s the funny thing: psychology has proven that witchcraft’s law of returns is somewhat true, not on a magickal level, but on a mental one. if you ponder over violence and revenge excessively, you are reinforcing those neural pathways in your brain. there is a reason why they say “hate breeds hate”. it is the same reason why depression is so hard to deal with. anything you obsessively ruminate over reinforces it again and again until escape seems impossible. I’m not only speaking as a witch, I’m speaking as a human being. is it correct to propagate petty violence among minors when we as adults can do better and guide young people to better paths?

I’m not saying young people shouldn’t use hexes. but I am questioning their ability to take on the responsibility of potentially hurting someone, or even just thinking of hurting someone. you plant a seed of hate and it may just grow. you knock on the devil’s door enough times and he will answer (disclaimer: I’m not Christian either, I just like the saying). soon there shall be nothing left but hate. if the person in question had not been a minor, I would have left it at that. but religion is sacred. a witch’s magick is essentially making something important to you sacred. it’s not a plaything. it’s not to be used light-handedly. it’s not a trend. and hexes should be the last resort if all else fails OR the person you hate has a damn good reason for being hated.

is it wrong to vote for love and peace? yeah, I sound like a hippie, but I think they’re right. love was not born from continuing to fight each other - love was born from unity, from coexisting. how does one fight racism? psychology says see more poc, interact with them, understand their struggles. how to fight religious fear? spend time with people of different views. how to get over homophobia? spend time with the gays and try to understand their views, and like, actually understand them. spending time with someone just to berate them is still bigotry. the interaction I mean here is coexisting with minorities in a shared space and them slowly, but surely becoming more accepted and normalised because we finally see them. even a bigot can’t stay a bigot if they are brought out of isolation. if they’re forced to see people different than them.

unfortunately, not even your own faith can comfort you sometimes, mostly because the community is still divided. there are rules on what should and shouldn’t be done, and woe upon thee if you dare to even peep one of your thoughts. I merely said thank you and sorry and left, as I always do when I feel misunderstood. it was a valuable yet harsh lesson, and I regret hoping for acceptance or even offering me a moment to be understood without being shut down without a second thought. I regret hoping for a little discussion where it is seen as a violation of rules.

again, as long as you are ready to bear the responsibility of harming another, do whatever you want. as a Wicca, I prefer staying benevolent and kind, even to those who traumatised me. you might argue that this essay in itself is not benevolent... after all, Wiccans don’t slander people behind their backs, you might say. but it is not my intent to slander. it is just me expressing sheer confusion over what I expected to be a community to hear out all voices, because why have a community at all if you allow for no discussion? do we shut off discussions entirely in fear of fights? but alas, it is human nature to be opposed, but it’s also human nature to still hold hands despite the differences - one just needs to acknowledge it.

blessed be.

#own post #witchblr #witchy #wicca #laconic and gross oversimplifications to this post will not be accepted.#i am naive in my own way for believing people want to be kind #but i do believe that there can be love and peace on the planet earth. as a survivor of hate #i know it.

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jaiadani · 3 years ago

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JAI ADANI ( HE/THEY ) is a DEMIBOY, TWENTY-EIGHT year old ROECLIFFE THEATRE ACTOR who has been living in Moorbrooke for HIS WHOLE LIFE. They were born on JULY 18 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like AVAN JOGIA and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose NUMB by LINKIN PARK.

hi gorgeous folks. I’m here again with another dumbass for you guys to love. I’m going to also include some connections at the bottom to make plotting a bit easier. let me know if you would like to fill anything.

jai adani was born in moorbrooke, maine on july 18, 1993. he is the only child to two very wealthy, successful parents. his father is a surgeon and his mother is a lawyer. unfortunately, this meant that they had/have high expectations of jai. he was never quite able to make them proud, especially when he decided that neither law nor being a doctor was right for him.

at a young age, jai was always a flamboyant and creative child. he loved to draw, make music, write, and eventually found his true passion - theatre. being the charismatic guy he was, jai truly shined on the stage.

as he got older and his parents realized it wasn’t a phase, they became harsh and sometimes even cruel to the youngster. in their words. he was “destroying the adani legacy.”

problems got worse when he came out of the closet as a pansexual and identified as a demiboy. he tried to explain to them that he identified mostly with being a male, but not always. this concept was hard for them to grasp.

at eighteen, jai took on acting full time and even moved into a nice place in redgrave grove, which he worked super hard to achieve. he saved up his allowance for years to the day to afford the down payment.

once he moved out, things started to look up a little. while he still suffers a bit mentally knowing his family would never approve, he found people who understood him and truly began to shine bright.

personality:

jai is kind and would offer the shirt off his back to those in need. he knows what it feels like to be alone and he identifies strongly with outcasts who are struggling to fit in.

being pansexual and a bit of a hopeless romantic, jai desperately wants to find real love. he isn’t quite sure that he deserves it. the constant fear of letting down people he loves follows him into relationships, sometimes causing their downfall.

the best way to describe his style is trendy-hipster? a bit of an oxymoron, but yeah. he dresses nice, sometimes androgynous. he definitely sticks out.

he is sometimes super extroverted and other times seriously withdrawn. when he’s comfortable around people or playing a character, he truly shines.

he definitely smokes pot and drinks alcohol in a self-medicating way. he’s not quite addicted, but when times are tough, it treads the line of unhealthy.

you’ll never catch him without his very specific, slightly pretentious cup of coffee. triple shot, oatmilk latte, three pumps of vanilla and extra hot.

he will definitely ask you about your zodiac sign and attempt to analyze what that means.

he loves deep conversations and isn’t big on small talk. the best way to keep his attention is to talk about what you’re passionate about.

possible connections:

first love - this would’ve happened in his late teens (possibly 16-19) and the relationship was intense. when things died down, he would describe them as “the one that got away.” all genders OPEN.

friends with benefits - a casual relationship that’s all about fun. possible feelings, but not necessary. someone who he considers his friend first and foremost. all genders OPEN.

exes- good terms or bad terms can be discussed. just a general relationship that for whatever reason failed. OPEN.

best friend/partner-in-crime - they are quite literally attached at the hip. the ultimate fluffy friendship. all genders OPEN.

will they, won’t they? - romantic connection. he definitely has feelings and it’s likely they might to. they act like a couple, but something stops them from making it official. details can be explored. all genders OPEN.

cousin - they can be close or not, but that family connection would be awesome. so much to explore. any faceclaim that is at least half indian would work. all genders OPEN.

childhood friends- someone around his age that has lived around the area would be perfect for this connection. they watched each other grow up and will always have that connection. OPEN.

ex-friends/frenemies OPEN.

others actors??? it would be cool to have some people he performs with for him to hang around. OPEN.

anything your heart desires <3

#mbintro #about #tw substance abuse mention #tw homophobia #tw transphobia #sorry i forgot to tag the tw at first! <3

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ilkkawhat · 4 years ago

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I rewatched the Nigel episode not too long ago with new eyes and it struck me how much he has in “common” with Nick! Catherine and Warrick sorta brush off Nick’s concerns about his dry cleaned clothes and prom date photos, as if he’s just paranoid. He’s not taken seriously which results in being thrown through a window and Warrick feeling guilty and the only person who humored him in small talk is Nigel about cable channels. Nick hates that Nigel is him in some way, deep down. Thoughts?

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

(warnings for mentions of abuse and Nick’s trauma and suicide attempts. Also warning for possible mischaracterization of Nick and Nigel because SELF PROJECTION cause I really can’t tell anymore nor do I claim to be any sort of expert on Nick, just a really really big fan of him)

So one quote from another fav show of mine that’s always just kinda stuck out to me is during this episode where SSA Aaron Hotchner is interrogating an unsub with a similar history of abuse as him, where the unsub claims “some people are born killers” and then Hotch says “and some people are born to catch them.”

I think we all know which one Nick is, but honestly? I think Nigel is that other side of the coin.

We are never told outright about Nigel’s past so just bear with me here and imagine how his childhood could have shaped who he is as a person. He may have grown up with a family who told him the world was dangerous and filthy, who thought the absolute worst of people and thought they were better than everybody else, which explains why he looks down on people so much. He could have witnessed his parents mistreat each other, perhaps to the point where maybe one of them didn’t fight back and was weak because of it (he goes on that rant about how humans are lifeless puppets and ants and all that). Perhaps he sees how his father controlled his mother, and that’s how he learns to control Jane Galloway--a girl who I’m sure, he would have considered to be more than just his “girlfriend” had their relationship “developed” in Nigel’s eyes.

He could have grown up in a neglectful household so he had to sort of fend for himself and make friends for himself but didn’t have the social skills to do that, so he he kind of became that creepy outcast kid that everybody wanted to avoid, so any, and I mean any positive attention he got, he misconstrued to be a sign of friendship which explains his fucked up idea of what friendship and love is. He gets obsessively attached, possessive--which is something I recently talked about Nick being in another ask--even if the other person doesn’t feel the same way towards them.

Or, he could have had a perfectly normal childhood until the age of nine, when a last minute babysitter turns his world upside down and reveals to him that life is not the land of sunshine and rainbows that all children should believe, that trust is a thing so easily broken just as his innocence is. That the horrors he hears spoken about from his family when they regale tales from the courtroom (though I’m sure the Stokes parents would not do it in such an obvious way, using code words and euphemisms that Nick’s older siblings catch onto and educate Nick on as well) are real and not just made up stories to scare him into eating his vegetables. That he doesn’t deserve the life he could have had, he deserves this trauma and this pain and is sentenced to carry it with him for the rest of his life with absolutely no choice in the matter.

That his life was ruined a long time ago, so what’s the point in even trying to make it better? Connections were severed, connections to a happy childhood, to a happy home life, to a happy healthy view on the world that he’ll never get back no matter how hard he tries because that happened and he sentences himself to a life of investigating how it could happen to others, too.

Or watching how it happens to others.

Or in Nigel’s case, becoming the monster in the closet. The monster under the bed. The monster in the ceiling, watching the suffering through a tiny hole that’s not even noticed to the untrained eye.

Whatever happened, Nigel also seems to hate himself for it. Hate himself so much that he sees Nick and wants to become a whole other person, just as Nick strives to become the person Grissom wants him to be, or Grissom himself. And yet, Nigel also seems to have a bit of an ego, bragging about his achievements and deeds and while Nick is for the most part, modest, he does partake in his own share of bragging though it’s not often and usually only to tease somebody rather than some sort of show of superiority--like when he brags to Warrick during his high points in the Anonymous case they bet on. And I’m not saying Nick 100% hates himself but he definitely has confidence issues, definitely takes his mistakes to heart, it’s why he’s always looking for validation, working harder than he should have to in order to prove himself.

And though Nigel hates others, too, most notably just...people in general, he still observes them. Still watches the world from a bird’s eye view (Nick loves birds, btw...and I think it’s very fitting that his like, antithesis is named after one) and is good at it, too. He’s good at what he does, so good that he’s able to add extra channels when installing cable and presumably doesn’t get in trouble for it. Good enough to sneak into somebody attic and live there for days...weeks?...months even? Who knows if Jane was his first, and we don’t exactly know how long he was stalking Nick for, I would imagine for more than a week though?

And Nick’s good at what he does too, as he’s often told. He’s got a great eye for details--he always seems to go above and beyond in his evidence collecting (even with...pizza box sized swatches hehe) and seems to be a great photographer (just as Nigel’s a great videographer) He’s a good listener, too...and so is Nigel, taking the time to get to know somebody, even if he doesn’t let them know himself while he lets them take the spotlight.

But when the spotlight is on him...that’s when things begin to change. Nick’s a very private person and obviously Nigel is even more so to the point when Nick got closer than anybody to discovering who he really was, he attacked and threw Nick out of a fucking window. Even when Nigel talks about himself it’s usually about how he sees his victims, again we don’t get much of any detail on his backstory, unless...he’s revealing details about himself...through those victims. The reasons of why he chose them. His almost...empathy of them, which we all know Nick goes a little overboard with. He doesn’t tell victims why he understands them so well, he probably feels he doesn’t have to or doesn’t want their pity--which is why he doesn’t talk much about his trauma even though it would probably helped a few times (like with the male sexual assault victim in 10x06 though I feel like there was some subtext there with it all, or if he outright told that vic in 15x09 that he had the same thing happen to him as a child, too)

Nigel doesn’t seem to want any pity, either. He just wants to be adored. Wants to be loved.

Nick may not necessarily want the adoration but does want acceptance. Understanding. Wants validation from people he feels qualified to give it to him (Grissom) He wants to be liked, and wants to like everyone...but he doesn’t. His faith in humanity seems to shrink throughout the series, but also with it, does that little bit of ego he starts off with in how he wants to pack heat. Wants to be the man. Wants to be a “good CSI” in Grissom’s eyes and by the end, all he wants is his friends. His family.

The things Nigel can never have.

But also with the empathy thing--something I picked up on and always sort of thought about for a while is the final showdown scene between Nigel and Nick. How Nick puts on his brave face (and some poorly chosen sass like c’mon buddy is it really a good idea to piss off the stalker with a gun) and does finally kind of flex his strength, “this isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun in my face,” as if to say “what you are doing right now to me is not affecting me in the slighest” but it’s not anger we see in Nigel’s face after that.

It’s almost...concern.

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He’s threatening Nick’s life, probably to expect him to beg on his hands and knees like the worthless ant he is just so Nigel can prove to him that he is the one who deserves to be Nick Stokes but here, he’s just watching as Nick throws the worth to his life away, acting as a man with nothing to lose and Nigel hesitates.

And his plan changes.

Nigel had to have known from the minute the psychic entered that the game was over. There were two ways out of this, either in a cop car or a body bag and suddenly he can’t do it. He can’t shoot Nick. He can’t become him anymore, ironically even if Nigel was going to throw his life away to “become Nick” he can’t seem to become a version of Nick who’s willing to just die, too.

So back against the wall? No way out? No options? Time is at an end? He points the gun to himself. Wants Nick to remember his name.

And Nick...what did Nick do, when his back was against a Plexiglas wall? With no way out? No options? Time is at an end?

Points the gun to himself.

Leaves a message on a tape, starts that tape off with “My name is Nick Stokes,” because he wants everybody to remember his name.

And I mentioned in the other ask how I’m sort of touching upon some of this theme of Nick and Nigel being similar in this fic I’m working on, where I currently have this line of “He acts tough, acts with an air of superiority but when the light is shined on him, he shrinks away and the facade is broken, revealing the coward at the other end of the gun.”

Just as Nigel hesitated, couldn’t seem to shoot Nick, showing his true cowardly nature...Nick couldn’t shoot McKeen, who also declared his cowardice. Couldn’t become the man that McKeen is, just as Nigel couldn’t ultimately become Nick.

And that’s the thing with Nick, is he does have that line that he never crosses, the one that doesn’t make him a killer, and he’s aware of that, and takes pride in it, even if he doesn’t tout it around. He’ll always have that bit of an ego that he’s better than the scumbags he puts away--he probably even thinks he’s better than the 15x09 vic in the way that while he can’t forget his past and didn’t murder his abuser, he didn’t beg for mercy or become vengeful or become a crazed stalker always searching for the connections he lost at a very early age...he just...deals with it. Carries it. Lets it be part of the person it made him to be. Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper.

But he also knows that if he did have the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it...he just knows how not to get caught...unlike how Nigel did.

#csi meta #nick stokes #csi 2x19 #mk talks csi #sorry i like to see you suffer nick #nonny #mk talks #mk.op #speaking of that stalker fic i'm hoping i work on it this weekend #nick vs nigel

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lunasilvermorny · 5 years ago

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Luna Silver - Slytherin AU

So there was a post a while back about the same MC in the different houses and I remember I didn’t take part in it because there is 0% chance Luna would ever be in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. However, the possibility of her being a Slytherin (though still very slim) exists... hence - this post!

So how different is she going to be? Let’s talk about it.

Looks:

So of course, I had to give her white hair, because SLYTHERIN! Isn’t it a basic requirement in this community? No, I thought it would fit her aesthetic better this way.

I also had to upgrade her make-up abilities, because she cares more about her looks in this version. (Not just because she’s a Slytherin, I’ll explain it more in depth in a second.)

She doesn’t have an undercut, because she never went to her summer trip across the UK with the muggles, so she never got the idea to get one in the first place. (Although, she always knew she wants a nose-septum piercing, so that’s why she has it.)

(It’s also the first time I’ve ever drawn her wrist watch in such details. I really like how it turned out!)

Personality:

In short - Luna would definitely be a different person if she got sorted into Slytherin. She’d be more arrogant, self-absorbed and mean. But these changes aren’t rooted in the stereotypes about Slytherins, but in her complicated relationship with her father.

This is a long one, so if you’re interested, just keep reading... If not, then I hope you liked the drawing!

Her father is a very strict parent that always put an enormous amount of pressure on her to be as perfect as humanly possible. When she meets his expectations - he usually encourage her to try and do even better next time, and if she fails - well, he doesn’t say much, but his silence is worse than any word he could have possibly said to her.

One of his expectations was for her to get into Slytherin, just like he did. Now, not only did she not get in, she was sorted into Ravenclaw, the house that Jacob was in (which made it a thousand times worse), so something in their relationship cracked at this point.

True, she stayed his favorite child nonetheless, but ever since that day, he became more preachy and judgemental of her, because he was afraid she’ll follow Jacob’s footsteps instead of his own.

But for her it was a very important milestone, because it was the first thing that really pulled her out of the illusion that her father is always right and she must live her life fully according to his standards. She was still very determined to get his approval, but in situations she knew she couldn’t, instead of letting it get to her, she just hid it from him and walked her own path.

My point it - she learned that being herself is fine and in some cases it’s good enough, even if he disapproves. It helped her with the search for Jacob, it helped her embracing her sexuality and in the future - helped her to choose to be a doctor as well as a healer. (her father wanted her to be only a healer.)

It also taught her that she can’t get everything she wants and it taught her humility to a certain degree. Even though she’s a very cocky person in general, she did learn that some things are beyond her abilities and made peace with it. Hell, she learned that being a Ravenclaw is way more fitting for her and saw that her happiness and self-fulfillment aren’t always a result of a predetermined plan.

Entering the Slytherin AU - she got exactly what her father wanted. With no disappointments, he sent her an owl to congratulate her (in the regular timeline he never even once sent her an owl) and that only put more emphasis on what she felt is the ultimate truth - she is invincible and can achieve anything she wants, no matter how ridiculous or impossible.

This version of Luna wouldn’t look for the vaults. She finally let herself believe that Jacob was the ultimate evil, like her father always said, and so had no intentions of finding him.

She would also probably stay in the closet and any relationship with another girl would be kept a secret from everyone, not just her father.

She and Rowan would still be friends, but probably not best friends, because Luna is more self-absorbed and sees him more as a competition, since she wants to be the best student in their year without sharing the credit with anyone else. They would be in different houses as well. (for me, Rowan is a true Ravenclaw and nothing would change it)

Her relationship with Merula could go in two directions - They might have a better relationship, because Luna would be a bit of a bully herself (not calling people mudbloods, but certainly less empathetic to people like Ben.) Or it might be worst, because Luna is going to probably bully Merula back, but she’d be a better bully, which will cause Merula to be even more of an outcast.

However, she’s still the outgoing person she was before, so as long as people can tolerate (or ignore) her self-grandeur, they can still be her friends - so most of the HPHM characters would still be her friends.

Also, Andre would be so pleased with her fashion sense.

And that’s the Slytherin version of Luna.

I had so much fun drawing this piece, especially because of the attention for details. And listen, that make-up part took longer than I expected, but after seeing the end-result, I’m not complaining.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #slytherin au #luna silver #luna kateřina silver #my art #drawing #au headcanon

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gettin-bi-bi-bi · 4 years ago

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Hi! A question for Maddie: how do u know ur a cis woman? I am an afab bi person and since i discovered i was bi my connection to womanhood became weaker (not that it was strong before). I thought i would identify more with other queer women but that hasn’t been exactly the case. I only see them online but they have too much “fem energy” so to say it for me to id with them and other nonbinary people seem too masc/neutral for me too. What does it mean to be a woman? Especially if ur queer

That’s a good question but I don’t know if I have a good answer for it.

How do I know I’m a woman? I guess just because I never felt like anything else? See, it’s not like I consciously walk through life always thinking “I’m a woman. I’m a woman. I’m a woman.” I guess I don’t actively think of that unless it becomes relevant in context. Also, when other people read me as a woman that feels right. Now, I’ve never been mistaken as anything else afaik - I’m petit and usually dress femme-ish so despite my buzzcut, most people will look at me and think “woman” and I guess the fact that I don’t mind that at all is one indicator for me being a woman. And I guess if someone else thought I was a guy it wouldn’t feel right?! The only context in which I ever had the thought that “I wish I was a man” (cisnormative speak for “wish I had a dick”) was in sexual fantasies I had as a teenager but those thoughts have vanished once I learned that strap-ons are not just being used by lesbians.

I don’t know if that’s at all helpful. I mean, I have been thinking about this more since getting involved with the queer community but questioning my gender always stopped in the moment in which I felt like “I’m a woman because I literally don’t know what else to be. This word feels the most accurate.”

Now, as for being a woman + being queer... I’ve definitely struggled with femininity when I was closeted, in the sense that I would totally over-perform certain aspects of what I thought women “should be”. But on the other hand I always refused other things which was hard if you’re the only closeted queer girl in a group of straight girls who more or less all perpetuate heteronormativity and misogyny. I guess it’s no surprise that the friend group I ended up joining was the goth and emo kids - despite not being part of either of those subcultures myself. But they were kind of “outcasts” at school and I knew that somehow I belonged there as well. Now, this was all probably more about my closeted sexuality but part of that was also about those goth and emo girls living a totally different femininity than the “regular” girls.

When I started coming out properly and accepting my bisexuality (which didn’t happen until my mid 20s) I also finally felt good about other aspects of my identity. It’s not that I hated being a woman before but I often felt like I wasn’t “doing it right”. But when I accepted that I’m queer and learned more about gender I realised that there’s nothing to “do”. I just am Maddie and I guess I’m a woman bc anything else doesn’t fit me as well as “woman” does; and how I behave and dress and exist doesn’t change anything about that for me. I am just authentically myself and that includes flower petticoat dresses and a buzzcut... and I feel very queer that way. And my queerness definitely is a reason for rejecting traditional gender expectations and gender roles. That doesn’t mean I refuse to wear clothes that are seen as “feminine” but I don’t do it because I think I have to as a woman. I do it because I like the way it looks. And then other days I dress like a Dickensian paper boy but not feeling any less of a woman, you know?!

This is probably all a very messy reply, I’m sorry. I have trouble explaining it. But aaaaaaall of that being said: I would recommend you take your time exploring this for yourself and also engaging with genderqueer people. I know the pandemic makes it hard or impossible to do this offline but once that’s safely possible again I’d say you should try to get more involved with that community outside of the internet. But until then online also offers more than what you have described so far. Maybe the “fem energy” queer women and the “masc/neutral energy” non-binary people are a bit more visible online (? just a theory, I don’t know if that actually holds true but it seems to be your experience) but there’s definitely more than that out there. And hey, maybe your gender is something in between or fluid. You don’t have to pick one static thing and stick with it. Genderfluidity is a real thing so maybe some days the “fem energy” feels relatable and other days it doesn’t. That’s cool.

Maddie

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thorne93 · 5 years ago

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Unforeseen Chasm (Part 46)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:6022

Warnings: Language, all warning come from the Age of ultron movie! song for this part:Life of the party-All time low Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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

You had set out with Jane towards Nebraska, just after the wedding. Loki was a bit hesitant to let you go. You knew Jane, you knew Shannon. Earth had been your home your whole life. None of this was new to you. But Loki? All he had was you. He had no other allies.

You assured him you’d be a phone call away if he needed you. You could tell he was worried what might happen if you weren’t there. He wasn’t blind to the fact that you served as a buffer for his punishment from the Avengers and the government. It almost felt like a kid who is constantly bullied, when their friend that protects them doesn’t come to school one day.

Shannon wished you well and sent you on your way. Nebraska had yielded a few results but somehow, you’d heard about human experimentation, possibly by Shield in Sokovia. Another scientist was in the field with you, gossiping about things he’d seen near a campsite. People with strange powers and odd things that had been seen.

When you heard this, your ears perked up. You finished up early with Jane on your work and headed back to New York to inform the Avengers.

Loki was still at work so you bypassed the Sanctum and headed straight to the Tower.

Steve saw you first.

“Y/N? What’re you doing back?” he asked, concern and cautiousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” you said dismissively. “I heard that some experimentation on people going on in Sokovia,” you explained. “You might want to go check it out.”

Steve frowned and crossed his arms before leaning against the counter in the kitchen. “What makes you say that?”

“I heard it. This Dr. Reinstein I was working with in Nebraska had just come from there. He was doing research in the mountains, and there’s a compound nearby. He thought it was a government base, possibly for the military, but he said he heard and saw strange things.” You frowned, biting your lip. “I know it’s not much to go on, but I think--Well, what did you all do with Loki’s scepter?” you asked.

He leaned forward, taking more interest. “Why?”

“Because… It sounds like they might be using it,” you commented tentatively. “The things that scepter can do... “

A disgruntled sigh escaped him as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearby table. “We gave it to SHIELD.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile forming. “Then it’s in good hands.”

“Well, not exactly. We found out a year ago they were infiltrated by Hydra.”

“Hydra? That terrorist organization from the 40s? The one you fought? I thought they died out,” you asked, flabbergasted.

“I thought they did too, but the director of SHIELD has been the leader of HYDRA for quite some time. So… I have no idea where the scepter is now or if it’s safe.”

You pressed your lips together. “I think you should check it out,” you pressed gently. “Even if I’m wrong… Even if I’ve made a mistake, at least we know. Steve, that scepter in the wrong hands… You saw what Loki and I did with it. The devastation Hydra could bring? If they could be anyone -- it could be monstrous.”

He nodded. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. Do you know where in Sokovia this was?”

“Not exactly but I can get you his information.”

“Please do,” he requested.

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

It took a week for the Avengers to gather enough solid intel to head to Sokovia. They left Shannon behind. Tony and Bruce said her body couldn’t handle the trip and a fight. You began work with her on a new project while the team went to handle the problem. Tony had texted Shannon when they arrived.

Shortly after that, the whole team surprised you by coming back to the tower. Shannon and you were in the middle of the new project when you heard the plane entering the tower. Shannon looked at you, excitement filling her features before the two of you dropped your pencils to greet the team. Shan ran full force into Tony as he walked in from the landing pod area. You nodded to Steve, gave a smile to Bruce and Natasha. They surprisingly returned the gesture.

“Where’s Clint?” you asked, worry in your tone.

“Bringing up the rear, as usual,” Tony answered and you peered around him, seeing Clint limp in. You naturally went to help him, offering your body as support. He was hesitant for a moment, but ultimately took the offer, draping his arm over you.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Got hit. But it turns out your inside information was good,” he said, looking at you and giving you a slight smile.

“Well, I never meant for you to get hurt,” you said with guilt in your tone.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he assured. He shot you a half a smile before you helped him into the medical lab where Dr. Cho was set up.

“So what’d you find?” Shannon asked Tony while they walked into the lab, with you in tow. Maria and Steve joined you in the room.

“Twins,” Steve stated. “Genetically enhanced. The boy is extremely fast and the girl is--”

“She can play with your mind and control objects with her mind,” Maria explained. You and Shannone exchanged a look.

“So they were experimenting on people,” Shannon mused. “Was it Hydra?”

“As a matter of fact, babe, it was,” Tony affirmed.

“Strucker is in that hands of NATO now,” Steve stated, filling everyone in on the status.

“Well, I’m going to whip up some shakes to refuel and then we’ll all meet back up here at 7 for the party right?” Tony suggested.

You bobbed your head. “I’ll take that as my queue to go,” you quietly noted, everyone but Shannon looking at you as if you were an unwanted pest.

“No, you don’t have to leave,” Shannon said in a pleading tone as she took a step towards you.

“No, it’s fine. It’s getting late anyway. I need to check in with Loki. It’s been good seeing you all. I’m glad you’re safe. Glad the lead turned out to be something,” you offered with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. Boy, the term, “I know when I’m not wanted” resonated in your head like a siren.

With a final nod to everyone, you left and went back to the apartment.

“Well, hello, darling,” Loki greeted. “I had no idea you’d be home this early or I would’ve made dinner,” he informed, coming over to kiss your forehead.

“Well I was more like… kicked out,” you explained.

“What? Why--”

Before he could question it further, a knock came at the apartment door. You made an exasperated face before going over to the door. Opening the door, you were a bit shocked to see Shannon.

“Shan? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the victory party?” you questioned, confused.

“It’s not a party without you,” she countered with a smile.

“Oh, come on. You know that isn’t true. I’m the one in the corner, the wallflower.”

“I don’t care what you are. You’re my best friend and you and Loki are invited to the party.”

“Why? We didn’t even go on the mission. We aren’t in the Avengers. We’re in ex-criminals,” you reminded.

“Is that all you are? Ex-criminals? I kind of thought you were my best friend and friends with the Avengers. Besides Tony invited about fifty people that aren’t the team, I can have two people come.”

You smiled at her. “Shan, I appreciate it. I know what you’re trying to do, but no one wants me there. Steve tolerates me and the rest just wait for me to leave the room. They’re your friends...not mine.”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s true that they aren’t your biggest fans, but that’s never going to change if you don’t let them see you for who you are. They need to see the girl I know. The sister I grew up with…”

Your lips pulled to one side of your face. “Alright. I...” You turned back to Loki. “Do you want to go?” you asked, giving up with a sigh.

He gazed at you, probably gauging whether or not you really wanted to attend the event.

“I would...be delighted to go to a soiree at Stark Tower,” Loki lied. You could tell, but you were sure Shannon missed it.

She squealed. “Great! I’ll see you two at seven!”

She hugged you before dashing off and you closed the door behind you, grinning at Loki.

“So now we’re going to a party with the mindless drones that follow Stark?” Loki asked coldly.

You sighed as you walked past him to the bedroom. “Lok, she’s right. We need to… We need to stop acting like the outcasts. Maybe if we actually join their circle, we’ll be invited to more things. Our parole conditions might be lifted. I don’t know, maybe if we just acted less like we were being sequestered, less like hardened criminals, we wouldn’t be treated that way.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” he remarked with dripping venom. “I tried to act the part of the best, loyal, brightest son and look where that got me,” he reminded.

You sighed as you paused at your closet. “I’m not saying to pretend to be something we’re not. I’m just saying we act like we’re one of them. Just… be nice to them and they’ll be nice to us. It’s as simple as that.”

“Alright. I’ll try it your way. I suppose anything is better than being in exile.”

You nodded at him. “Dress nice or Tony won’t even let us in.”

Loki didn’t even respond as he got on an all black suit, black shirt, and black tie. Truth be told he looked ravishing. You found yourself in a green and black cocktail dress, your hair in old fashioned waves. In record time, you two made it to the party.

Shannon was right, Tony did invite a bunch of people here. It was a maze of people and caterers.

“You made it!” Shannon squealed as she trotted toward you with a drink in hand. She took you in a hug before hugging Loki, a sight you thought you’d never see.

“Yeah, much to everyone’s surprise,” you muttered.

“Well, come, come. Get a drink,” she urged.

“Alright,” you laughed, grabbing Loki’s hand as Shannon grabbed your free one. She drug you to the bar where Nat was making drinks.

“What’ll it be?” she asked with a coy smile.

“Martini,” Loki answered.

“Sparkling wine,” you requested.

“Comin’ right up,” she said with a smile as she made the drinks. Before you knew it, you each had a drink in hand, mingling. You met with Tony’s friends, greeted Clint, talked for a bit with Bruce, met some big wigs Shannong knew at another technology firm. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, but nearly an hour into the party you needed a break. The high society scene - it wasn’t for you, it never was. That was Shannon’s thing. She was the one molded into the perfect socialite. This was her world, it always had been.

You escaped into an elevator and rode up one floor, where you knew it would be empty. You left Loki with Thor, hoping he would provide some form of familiarity or comfort for him.

Your feet carried you mindlessly for a moment until you wound up in Tony’s lab. It was state of the art, and hardly anything in here was real, all of it holograms. Walking around, you were appreciating all his gizmos and gadgets before you rounded the corner and saw something you never thought you’d see again.

The scepter.

Loki’s scepter.

The scepter that powered the Tesseract. The two things that got you sent back to Earth, the two things that nearly got you killed.

Merciless memories danced in your head of blood, torment, and torture. Remembering a time you desperately wanted to forget.

“Don’t get any cute ideas,” Tony said from behind you, making you jump. He sauntered up from behind you, amber drink in a scotch glass. “Is this why you came tonight? Did you want us to do the heavy lifting for you? Get the scepter, bring it back, and you and the boy toy take it back?” He cocked his head to the side. “Good play.”

“That’s not it,” you retorted, getting angry quick, your fist balling up. “I heard they might have it and I was worried it got into the wrong hands.”

“The wrong hands being anyone’s but yours,” he rebutted with an impressed look. “It was clever, I’ll give you that. You almost had me fooled. Bowing out early. Shannon insisting to invite you. You pretending like you didn't want to come tonight. All very nice touches. But then I looked up and saw you were nowhere to be found and I thought ‘Gosh, where could Y/N have gone?’”

“Tony,” you groaned. “I just needed a break from everything and I wandered up here. I had no idea you even had the scepter, no one told me.”

“I know Barton told you that the lead was solid,” he stated. “That was probably enough for you to come check it out.”

“Why would I wait to come get it? I could just come get it on Monday when I return to work,” you said, frowning.

“Maybe you wanted to be sure you got it before I had to ship it off. You’re smart, you know we can’t just hold onto it. Especially with you and the Reindeer games coming in and out of the tower.”

You sighed. “Tony, I don’t want anything to do with that scepter. It nearly got me and everyone I love killed. I don’t care if you destroy it.”

He eyed you for a moment. “You know… I ran diagnostics on it.”

“You did? What did you find?”

“It’s...unusual. JARVIS says it's like a computer. Banner seems to think it’s almost like a brain.”

“And you? What do you think?”

His gaze held something unreadable in it. “I think that for once, we agree on something. This can’t fall into the wrong hands.”

You nodded before turning to walk out of the lab and rejoin the party. Then you turned back, partially, for just a moment. “Thank you… for trusting me enough to follow my lead and go to Sokovia in the first place.”

All he did was cast his eyes to the floor and you left the floor to return to the festivities. Maria acknowledged that you walked in the room before Loki was at your side. He rubbed soothing circles on your back as the mingling continued. The hours flashed by and suddenly, it was just the Avengers in the middle of the common room, save for Dr. Cho, Shannon, Maria, you, and Loki. The party had nearly ended. Conversation had gotten around to Thor’s hammer. You sat next to Loki, your hand entwined with his.

Everyone was taking turns to lift the hammer, laughing at how it was a trick.

“That’s an interesting theory,” Thor began. “I have a better one. You’re all not worthy.”

Suddenly Shannon perked up.

“Did anyone hear that? It was a squeak,” she said, starting to turn around, gazing around the room when suddenly the noise had made itself known.

“Worthy,” a robot said as it limped into the room, oil leaking from its form, an arm missing. Immediately, everyone started to slowly stand up. “How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

“Stark,” Steve said.

“JARVIS,” Tony responded.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” the robot responded. “Or I was a dream.”

“Reboot Legionnaire OS. We got a buggy suit,” Tony said, tapping his phone futilely.

“There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in--in strings.”

“Tony,” Shannon said, fear in her voice.

“I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Steve demanded.

Your eyes stayed planted on the robot as a million uncomfortable emotions swept through you.

“Wouldn’t have been my first call. But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor commanded.

Tony’s voice suddenly played from a recording. “I see a suit of armor around the world.”

“Ultron,” Banner recognized, turning to Tony.

“In the flesh,” this Ultron responded. “Or no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on mission.”

“What mission?” Nat wondered.

“Peace in our time.”

Without warning, three bots burst out of the wall at all of you. Steve kicked a table up to deflect a bot that was headed straight for him. Loki quickly grabbed you and spun you out of the way before casting an illusion of himself, pushing you back towards towards a corner. Each of the Avengers was fighting a bot. Nat had to jump over the bar. Maria shot at a bot. Rhodey was pushed down a level, slammed through a glass ceiling. Clint slid under a table. Tony was rammed into a bookcase. Shannon was hit by a blast and into a wall.

Steve jumped on top of one of the bots, but he propelled backwards and crashed him into a wall.

“Steve!” you shouted, coming out from hiding, grabbing his shield and charging it before launching it as hard as you could at the bot, obliterating it. Tony managed to disarm one with a fondu fork. Nat was shooting at one and you turned towards it, purple streaming from your fingers, electricity sparking through the power as you electrocuted the machine.

“That was dramatic,” Ultron remarked as all of you stood up from positions of hiding or cover. “I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to evolve. With these? These puppets. There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers extinction.”

Thor threw his hammer as hard as he could, smashing the main robot to smithereens.

And that ultimately killed the party. In a whirlwind, everyone was in Tony’s lab. Nat and you had changed out of your dresses into jeans and a tank top. Steve had sent Thor after the Legionnaire that escaped the building.

“All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out. He used the Internet as an escape hatch,” Banner informed.

“Ulton,” Steve scoffed.

“He’s been in everything. Files, surveillance. He probably knows more about us than we know about each other,” Natasha informed.

“He’s been in our files. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?” Rhodey asked, pacing.

“Nuclear codes,” Maria murmured.

“Like nuclear codes,” Rhodey explained.

The rest of the team continued to discuss the current situation for a few more moments. They addressed the fact that JARVIS was destroyed as the first line of defense. Without much warning, Thor came storming into the lab grabbing Tony by the throat.

“Alright, buddy, use your words,” Tony requested.

“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” Thor vowed darkly.

“Hey!” Shannon shouted. “Thor, put him down. What happened to the Legionnaire?”

“Trail went cold about 100 miles out, but it’s headed north. And it has the scepter.”

A few eyes went to you and Loki, but you tried to ignore the burning gazes.

“Now we have to retrieve it, again,” Thor said with frustration.

“I don’t understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?” Dr. Cho asked.

Tony was turned around, and suddenly… he was laughing. You frowned while Bruce shook his head to warn Tony that wasn’t the smartest idea.

“You think this is funny?” Thor asked incredulously.

“No,” Tony responded. “It’s probably not, right? This is very terrible. Is it so… It is. It’s so terrible,” he replied, sarcasm wrapping his tone.

“This could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t played with something you don’t understand,” Thor stated.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It is funny,” Tony remarked, walking towards Thor. “It’s a hoot that you don’t get why we need this.”

“Tony, maybe this might not be the time,” Bruce warned.

“Really? That’s it?” Tony demanded, angry. “You just roll over, show your belly every time somebody snarls?”

“Only when I’ve created a murder bot.”

“We didn’t. We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?”

“Tony, what the hell, I thought Ultron was just a fantasy. Something we put to rest a long time ago?” Shannon demanded.

“It was. Until this,” Tony responded. “We had the scepter. It had so much energy. I saw it and I thought, ‘Hey, this is what we’ve been looking for. Something to protect the world.’”

“You did this, without even discussing it with me? You used unknown magic, power, to fuel a system that we have no idea about?”

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Tony asked. “Saved New York? Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We’re standing 300 feet below it. We’re the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but that up there, that’s...That’s the endgame. So that when people like them--” he walked over and pointed to you and Loki “--come charging back in, with bigger guns and more enemies, we have a defense.”

“Tony,” Shannon said, disappointment encompassing her tone.

“No, he’s right,” you suddenly said.

Everyone’s eyes flashed to you.

“Tony, you said you wanted a suit of armor around the world? That’s what this is designed to do? To protect the world from a greater threat? Then you’re right to do so.”

“I’m not sure whether or not I should be happy you’re agreeing with me,” he noted.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious,” Shannon responded. “You saw what that did…”

“I don’t know what happened with the development. But I know Tony, and I know his heart was in the right place. I’ve seen what else is out there, and he’s right to be scared of it. And if we have anything -- anything -- that serves as a line of defense, then I’m all for it.”

“Are we really gonna take her side?” Rhodey asked. “This isn’t looking good for you, Tony. The only person to agree with you is an ex-con.”

“Is that really all I am to you, Rhodey?” you asked, bite in your voice.

“Last I checked, you spent years down in a cell for attacking the city. And now, thanks to that, Tony here has created a murder bot.”

“He was trying to create a weapon of defense. That’s what he does. That’s what we need. You don’t get it. None of you get it. I’ve seen people and things far more dangerous than Loki or I could ever be. You need this system.”

“Well whatever Stark was trying to create, it went bad. We need to know how bad,” Steve responded. “He wanted us extinct. So what does that mean? Ultron is calling us out. He’s getting a plan together. I’d like for us to have one before he does.”

“Tony, what happened to you not going through with your plan?” Shannon suddenly burst out, demanding. “It was only just the girl messing with your head. Why would you go creating this thing? We talked about this. I told you not to but you went behind my back and did it anyways. Does my word not mean a thing to you?”

Shannon was distressed, that was evident. You had hardly ever seen her this distraught.

“You know that’s not what this is!” Tony snapped. “Of course your word means something to me but you gotta understand with Ultron things could be safer for the world.”

“Safer how, Tony? You just created a robot who wants to end the Avengers. What’s to stop it from destroying the world that you want to protect?”

“Shan,” you started, sympathy in your voice as you took a step toward her, “his heart was in the right place. I don’t blame him for wanting to build Ultron. How he became a murder bot, I can’t imagine. If Tony said they weren’t close to an interface, I believe him. He just wants to protect the people he loves.”

“I get that he was trying to do good but this isn’t how you go about it. This is crazy. All the people who have tried to make things right always turn out wrong. You don’t need to be the next one on that list. And for you to be siding with him is crazy! That thing was being powered by the damn scepter that had Clint turned into a mindless goon and had you almost destroy all of New York.”

“The scepter, when used correctly, can do great things, wonderful things. At least he is trying to make the world a better place. A safer place. When we came down to invade, it was almost too easy,” you stressed.

Clint spoke up. “Yeah so easy that you lost and had your ass handed to you.”

Your face turned him, your expression angry. “I seem to remember nearly killing all of you, not to mention destroying most of Manhattan, and that was just two of us with a small army.”

“Regardless of who did what, I am sending that scepter back where it belongs, to be locked up. I don’t want to hear another word of this from anyone!” She turned to Bruce, shaking her head as she said, “And you, Bruce, I can’t believe you helped him. I’m so disappointed.”

She shook her head before walking off, forcing everyone to be silent.

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

Bright and early the next day, the team gathered. Maria found information on a “large metal man” coming into facilities all over the globe with something too fast to see, and people being left with worst nightmares and memories. Strucker was apparently killed, which threw all of you off. Steve grabbed out all the physical files, as the ones online had been destroyed. They found files on a guy that worked out of Wakanda -- where vibranium was kept - a whole slew of it.

Natasha was able to find a salvage yard where vibranium was being harvested and sold off the grid, black market. Weapons.

That was the next target.

The team began to disperse to get ready to start their mission, with you getting ready to head up to the lab, to begin work on your project. Shannon had other ideas for you though. As Steve walked off to his quarters, she followed him.

“Hey, Steve,” she called quietly.

He turned and greeted her. “Hey, Shan. You ready to fight this guy?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she noted.

He frowned at her, unsure of what she meant. “What’s wrong?”

“Is there any chance you can do me a favor?”

“I’ll try, but what is it?”

“Convince Tony to let Y/N come on the mission with us. I could use a second pair of hands getting the vibranium, and she can fight.”

He pursed his lips, his signature ‘I’m not so sure about this’ look.’ “Shan…” He sighed. “You’re not going to fight with us?”

“Bruce says it’s not good for me, and you all don’t need me to take Ultron on. You and the team can do that. Let Y/N and I get the vibranium, and get it away from him.”

“I don’t know. She just recently got released...”

“It’s been months,” she reminded. “She’s been perfect.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me. You don’t think it’s strange that the only time she’s tried to help the Avengers since she’s been captured or released has been in the result of getting the scepter?”

“Y/N isn’t that calculated. She wouldn’t have someone else do the heavy lifting.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t, but he might,” he retorted.

“You mean Loki? Loki… he’s a damaged soul, like me. He had a rough life and he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do to survive something worse. I know this in my heart that Y/N and Loki are sorry for what they did. Come on, she’s done nothing but help me when I’m down. I had to beg her to come to the party. I just want things to go back to before she left -- except, you know, she has powers now.”

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll try to tell him.”

“Oh thank you!” she cheered, hugging him.

He nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah.” Then the two set off towards Tony’s quarters. They went in his bedroom where he was tweaking a suit. “Hey, Tony?”

“What’s shakin’, Capsicle?” he asked, welding, his eyes not leaving his project. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you if you’d let Y/N join the team on this mission?”

Tony stopped all activity. He flipped his helmet up and turned to Steve. “Are you high? No.”

“Come on. Shannon needs a hand getting the vibranium, and we’ll need to focus on the twins and Ultron. Not to mention, in case we need it, she can fight and she’s got powers that might help.”

“Did you not hear me? I said no. That’s it. We don’t need her. Not to mention I don’t want her anywhere near that scepter.”

“Tony--” Shannon started, begging in her voice.

“Shan, I said no. I’m sorry. I know she’s your friend but we can’t trust her.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Because she’s killed people? Who here hasn’t? Because she worked for the bad guy once? Who here hasn’t? If you’re going to start excluding people from the team based off sketchy pasts then this who team needs to disband because no one here is a saint. She can help me and I really think being a part of the team might help her. She supported you on this hairbrained idea, the least you can do is give her a chance.”

He stared at his bride, chagrin on his face. He didn’t like the points she was making. But he gave in.

“Alright, fine. Get her some gear. We leave in thirty.”

With that, she turned on her heel and went up to the lab.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, walking in.

“Hey,” you greeted sweetly back. “So I can get a jumpstart on some of my numbers while you’re gone--”

“You’re coming with us,” she blurted out, a grin on her face.

“I’m… what?” you asked.

“I got Tony to approve you to be on the team. Come on, I need help getting the vibranium and the team can focus on the three baddies. What do you say? We’ve never teamed up together.”

“No, we haven’t,” you agreed. “But maybe there’s a reason.”

“Or maybe it was waiting for us to get to here,” she said excitedly. “Come on, we’re two bad ass bitches. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

“Great! Let’s go get you some gear. What do you need?”

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

You were about to land, your body alive with nervousness. Your leg bounced as you sat on the jet between Clint and Shannon.

“Hey, you nervous?” Clint whispered as he leaned over to you.

“That obvious?” you asked with a slight laugh. You tried to stop your leg from bouncing, and tried to stop the wringing of your hands but it was hard.

“What’s got you so nervous? You’ve fought before.”

“Yeah but then I wasn’t really in fear of my life. Not really. What I was made into… death wasn’t an option, not from you all anyway. But now… I mean, this is real.”

“Well... You’ll be out of the way of the firepower anyway unless we actually need you -- which shouldn’t happen,” he encouraged. “Just stay with Shannon, and you’ll be alright.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking a deep breath.

Next thing you knew, the plane was landing and you all were running out of the plane into a salvage yard. The Avengers headed towards various points of entry while you and Shannon headed toward the lowest level, that’s where you expected it to find the vibranium.

After two minutes, you heard gunfire and fighting.

“Shit,” you whispered to Shannon.

“The mission is still the same,” she assured as she moved through the darkness. A loud shot fired behind you and you ducked before spinning to cast magic at them, making their guns hit them in the head and knock them out. Behind you, but in front of Shannon, another shot was heard before she silenced him. “Keep moving,” she called over her shoulder quietly.

The two of you found the container that was half filled with vibranium.

“Guys, found the payload. I’ll just get it to the plane,” Shannon said into the comms. “Should we take it all out or just get the container hooked up or--”

“Y/N, look ou--”

Before you could respond or know what she was talking about, suddenly the room changed. You weren’t looking at a container full of vibranium anymore. You were on Sanctuary, on your hands and knees. Thanos had just thrown you to the ground.

“Get up,” he commanded in that calm voice you hated so much. “Get up or I’ll turn my training to him,” he vowed.

You groaned, turning to him, spitting blood out of your mouth. “No, no, don’t touch him.”

“I won’t have to, if you don’t disappoint me,” he stated. “Again,” he ordered. You stood up wearily, you could feel your eye swelling. He had put you through horrible combat training with one of the aliens on sanctuary. “Kill her, and he lives,” he promised.

You frowned as the creature took their hood off, only to show you a very familiar face under the hood -- Shannon. Without hesitation, she came forward for you. Her energy casting towards you. At first, you defended yourself, until you remembered his promise, and you threw her off of you. You fought tooth and nail, hitting, kicking, punching, letting you rip into her body, until her cries cut off with a gurgle.

“You’ve done so well, my love,” Loki cooed as he stood beside you, a smile of approval on his face as he gazed down to your dead best friend.

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

“From the top,” a russian voice demanded.

“You’ll break them,” Shannon cooed as she watched a class of girls -- dancers. They were learning everything from firearms, tactics, ballet, seduction...

“You’re made out of marble,” the voice responded, a bit of admiration in her tone. “We’ll celebrate with the ceremony, your graduation.”

Shannon’s hands flew to her stomach, where she looked down before tears sprang to her eyes. “No. No, I never wanted this.”

“Ah, but your parents did,” the voice said back to her.

As if she blinked, she was suddenly in combat with a strong man. He had long, dark brown hair. She only ever saw his eyes, and an arm… made of metal. He swung at her with one hand, and she dodged it, but he brought a knife across her stomach and she glided right into it.

“Poor work. You deflected the wrong shot,” the woman remarked.

Shannon breathed raggedly, trying to find a way to end this fight.

In the next second, she was in front of her target, or rather, her target in front of her. A person. Shannon lifted her gun, calculated, ready to pull the trigger, it would be so easy. Aim between the eyes, like she’d been trained.

“Do this, and your training will be complete,” the woman promised.

“Wait, Shannon, don’t you don’t have to do this” the voice cried. That voice. She knew it… The person took shape, took full form in front of her. It was you. You were in front of her, crying, weeping, begging her not to. Your hands tied behind your back.

Without so much as a flinch, she pulled the trigger.

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

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

#unofreseen chasm #loki x reader #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc #steve rogers #bruce banner #clint barton #thor #maria hill #rhodey #iltron #the maximoff twins #natasha romanoff

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sepublic · 5 years ago

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An Analysis of Twelve Forever’s Endless Inhabitants

In which I overanalyze and discuss the meaning of some of its characters, either in-universe or on a meta level!

Swimple Dan- Swimple Dan at first seems to be another whacky character, but the episode The Locals Forever and Not Twelve Forever provide us further insight into his character’s symbolism. We immediately see that Swimple Dan is in a marriage, but a rather unhappy one- His wife verbally abuses him in Not Twelve Forever, and he lies about what he does during the day due to his insecurity about his own actual accomplishments, and the expectations placed on him by his wife. Despite being married to his wife, Swimple Dan doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy his time with her and evidently prefers the companionship of his male friend Gorbis, who is also in a marriage with a female.

Swimple Dan seems to be another symbol of Reggie’s apprehension and viewpoint of adult life- As some dull, monotonous existence where you constantly act to do what others approve of. His poor marriage with his wife is symbolic of how Reggie looks down on love, especially after seeing her share of dysfunctional marriages. Dan likewise lying about his job and accomplishments, coupled by his wife’s insistence that she always ‘knew’ he would do great things (and how others said he’d just be dancing in the living room all day, paralleling how others probably expect Reggie to play toys in her room all day), can be seen as allegorical towards Reggie’s anxiety over her mother’s expectations and wishes for her. Reggie’s mom expects her to grow up, to be an adult and do proper adult things, and Swimple Dan lies to maintain an image of him fitting into the mold because that’s what Reggie sees adulthood as, and likewise feels like she is lying about herself to fit a societal mold.

Potentially, Swimple Dan could also be a commentary on the nuclear family and heteronormativity. Swimple Dan is trapped in a loveless, heterosexual marriage with a woman who he seems to have no actual feeling towards and vice-versa, and the same applies for his male friend, Gorbis, whom he prefers to hang out with. The two couples not breaking off their marriages and being with the ones they actually love could be symbolic of them (and Reggie) having repressed homosexuality, and how society often causes people, LGBTQIA+ or not, to go into heteronormative relationships and be closeted due to that being the expectation and norm.

Sadmantha- Okay, do I even need to say it? We all know what she represents. Still, just to get it out of the way…

Sadmantha is again, Reggie’s unhappiness and trauma at being abandoned by her father. Like Reggie, she is haunted by loss, and the potential of loss. Sadmantha is symbolic of Reggie being rejected- Rejected by society and her peers, hence her insistence that everyone secretly dislikes her, a sentiment later reflected in Todd Forever, where she accuses her friends of not actually liking her, and her preferring they just leave her behind than keep up the pretense of an actual enjoyment.

She is also Reggie’s anxiety of rejection from her father- Rejected and left behind, perhaps due to not being an ideal child? Either way, Sadmantha is symbolic of the resulting self-loathing and insecurity Reggie has towards herself and regarding her friendships, and her fear of abandonment. Reggie is scared of relationships because she doesn’t want to be left behind, disappointed, and/or discover that the love is not genuine and she is not truly liked by the other.

Schmaaron- Schmaaron is, rather obviously, representative of Todd himself. Specifically, Schmaaron’s childish demeanor, need for a nurturing figure, and outright resemblance to both Todd and his older brother, represent Todd’s own issues;

Todd, like Schmaaron, wants to be nurtured. He yearns for the caring figure that his brother provided in the absence of their father’s attention and mother’s presence. Schmaaron is childish, symbolizing Todd’s anxiety over growing up without his brother, and his wish to go back to the simpler times when he was younger and his brother looked out for and hung out with him. Todd doesn’t want to grow up and wants to stay a kid who hangs out with his brother, so Schmaaron, who resembles the two, is a child who cries for attention and an older, nurturing figure to look after him.

Guy Pleasant- Guy Pleasant seems to be representative of Todd’s resentment towards his older brother. Like his brother, Guy Pleasant is an older, ‘cooler’ person who plays guitar and has a natural affinity for music. And like Todd’s brother, he leaves Todd and others who look up to him behind in order to pursue his own life and career.

Guy Pleasant is the result of Todd projecting his anger towards his brother for leaving him behind, for not really ‘caring’ about him, as well as possible envy towards his brother’s natural talent for music and guitar. Interestingly, Guy Pleasant is shown to legitimately be a lonely person who finds fulfillment from taking care of Schmaaron (the allegory for Todd)- Perhaps Todd’s desire for his brother to find ‘true happiness’ by staying with him.

Dr Champion- Interestingly, Dr Champion doesn’t seem to be necessarily symbolic of something, but more like foreshadowing to the reveal of Endless as a not-so-friendly place…

Although his insistence that he comes from Kentucky can come across as just nonsense (or be interpreted as him having been a toy from Kentucky who was buried and brought to life in Endless), Spring Break Forever suggests that people can lose their minds and memories in Endless, becoming trapped and one with it.

This idea is taken further in Stranger Forever, which outright confirms this with Elmer, an ageless child who has been in Endless since 1955. Not only has he become detached from reality and his own past, but Elmer’s body has deteriorated and changed, which would account for Dr Champion not looking human if one were to assume he was at one point. Also worth noting is how Dr Champion seems to be more mentally unhinged and less ‘there’ than the other inhabitants. Additionally, Dr Champion mentions a 401K in Manguin Forever, only to realize he doesn’t know (or rather, remember) what the term means…

Borbo- Forgive me for saying this, but Borbo seems to be symbolic of Reggie herself. Both are considered to be freaks and outcasts amongst their peers, and both are children who desire to be loved and appreciated. Borbo’s wishful declaration of being Reggie’s favorite friend in Stranger Forever mirrors Reggie’s desire to be liked and appreciated by others. The two further parallel one another in their actions in The Locals Forever- When given the opportunity, both spy on their neighbors due to their curiosity, and because they want to know what people would rather do than hang out with them. In Locked Out Forever: Part One, Reggie is even seen spying on others and their antics without being noticed, just like Borbo, and is also nervous when caught.

Further adding to their similarities, Borbo also has an older, mature mother figure who frequently calls him out on his immaturity, and works hard to groom him into a more responsible person. And like Reggie’s mother, Borbo’s mom still clearly loves her child and wishes the best, and is willing to give little treats (as indicated by Borbo’s confident, unconcerned assertion that he’ll still get dessert despite his mother’s declared punishment that he won’t).

He and Reggie are both loners, outcasts, and children who watch others from afar, in part because they envy the social interaction of their peers, desire to be with them, wonder what they prefer to do over being with them, etc. Both have mothers who are concerned for them and want them to be more mature.

Butt Witch- Butt Witch is fairly obviously a representation of Reggie’s anxiety with puberty. As if her being summoned by several books on the subject and literally confronting Reggie over said fears wasn’t enough, Butt Witch’s deep, male voice can be seen as a reference to puberty making voices deeper. Likewise, her noticeably ‘woman’ figure is a reference to Reggie’s mother’s line about how in every girl, there is a woman waiting to bloom; Butt Witch has the body of a mature adult woman. Further adding to this allegory, Butt Witch is presented as having an inhuman true form that later becomes more monstrous, further reflecting Reggie’s apprehension towards the human body and its changes.

Additionally, as suggested by @virovac, Butt Witch also represents the idea of maturity and cynicism going hand-in-hand. Butt Witch immediately dismisses Reggie’s version of Endless as garish and immature, and she actively enjoys and is literally fueled by anger, resentment, and conflict. Butt Witch’s cruel, negative personality is in a sense a bit of a reflection of how Reggie sees her brother Dustin becoming cynical, mean, and edgy in an attempt to be more mature. Butt Witch can also be symbolic of how Reggie sees many adults as being mean, stifling, and attempting to put an end to her fun and enjoyment in life by forcing her to ‘grow up’- Just as Butt Witch frequently interferes with her adventures.

In a less meta sense, Butt Witch is interesting in that she was not made by the puberty books, but merely summoned by them. Her dialogue indicates her as having been on Endless before, and that it was nowhere near as ‘garish’ as it is now. This, and her memories of it as being fond, and the revelations of what she considers to be ‘fond’, indicate that Endless was once a less colorful and friendly place.

Was Butt Witch once a kid, or an adult, from the regular world who came to Endless? Or was Endless once a more visually threatening world that Butt Witch originated from? Concerningly, Butt Witch has contempt for the name Reggie has given her and yet won’t correct it with an actual name of her own…

Either way, Butt Witch seems to have a sense of agency and self-control unique to the inhabitants of Endless.

Big Deal- Big Deal is pretty clearly an allegory for the typical, 9-to-5 office job worker that every adult usually becomes. He wears a tie, carries around a briefcase, has ‘Big Deal’ for a name, etc. Likewise, Big Deal is constantly in a position of servitude and subservience beneath Butt Witch, an uncaring boss who feeds off of his work but doesn’t particularly pay back his kindness.

Big Deal is another symbol of how Reggie views adult life- A state of being in which an adult becomes a mindless office worker, focused only on business and brokering deals, working day and night for an apathetic boss in the hopes that their hard work will pay off and that they’ll be recognized and promoted. He is the embodiment of the bootlicking that workers are forced to resort to in order to get any form of promotion and thus a better career and life.

Manguin- Our Guy Fieri impersonator seems to be symbolic of none other than Esther herself. Like Esther, both are very organized, professional people who take their responsibilities incredibly seriously, and just as Esther mentions the pressures placed onto her by her parents, Manguin references his family’s name and how he has to uphold it by doing his job as a professional assistant well. Likewise, Manguin only appears when Esther in particular is looking for someone to act as a voice of reason for Reggie- In other words, she’s looking for someone who can fill in her own role while she’s gone.

Manguin is Esther in that both, due to the expectations of family placed on them, keep themselves as very composed, efficient, and productive people, with a wide array of skills and an impressive resume. Like Esther, Manguin soon finds relief when he learns to ‘let go’ and stop worrying about being responsible. Unlike Esther, he doesn’t go entirely overboard with letting go and having fun, but this is potentially reflective of Esther’s fear of having too much fun and thus becoming a rowdy hooligan and a disappointment to the family name. Manguin’s realization at the disgrace of his job and family name is what compels him to go into his suitcase, after all.

Manguin is what Esther wants to be- Accomplished. However, he is potentially symbolic of her anxieties of what will happen to her if she doesn’t rigidly adhere to the goals and duties set for her by her parents, and instead chooses to have fun and do what she wants.

Colin- Colin is one I’m not so sure over, and he might not be anything in particular. However, he could potentially be symbolic of Reggie’s social awkwardness and uncertainness when it comes to dealing with others, as well as her general ‘weirdness’.

Elmer- Elmer is obviously, what Reggie could have been. He’s framed deliberately in-universe as a dark mirror to Reggie and her desire to stay in Endless Forever.

Both are children who were unhappy with their current lives and didn’t want to grow up, and thus preferred to stay in Endless forever. Elmer is what Reggie could become if she doesn’t grow up- He is immature and disconnected from reality, only acting on what he thinks is fun, and loses his connections to his past life. His body deteriorates, adopting the cartoon physics of Endless as he becomes one with it. His entire existence is dedicated to hoarding objects, perhaps a dark allegory to Reggie wanting to hold onto her toys in Birthday Forever. Elmer spends his existence fully-immersing himself into Endless, and remains an emotionally and mentally stunted, immature child. Like Reggie, he can also be selfish, albeit to a far worse extent.

Elmer is ultimately an exaggeration of Reggie’s worst characteristics, ranging from her immaturity, desire to not grow up, selfishness, etc. He is her, but every part of her either amplified to be worse, or else turned bad. Elmer is essentially a cautionary tale, in-universe and on a meta scale, warning Reggie of what will happen if she doesn’t choose to mature and interact with her normal life.

#twelve forever #reggie #analysis #theory #symbolism #discussion #todd #esther

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shymeg · 5 years ago

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This was no ordinary Saturday

80. "I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn't human and, you're criticizing me for being shocked?! for Anonymous

synopsis: It started out at Pop's. I was just walking home when the person I secretly loved turned into something supernatural. Was I dreaming? Was I going to make this out alive? This was no ordinary Saturday.

This was no Ordinary Saturday

I was writing my manuscript having my black coffee at Pop's like any typical Friday evening or early Saturday morning and forgetting that it was a full moon. I never really paid attention before. Why Betty and Archie never wanted to hang out with me. I mean, all I did was type away at my story. I wanted it to be as realistic as possible. I mean, after all, I was a lurker in the shadows- a lone wolf, Yet now that I think back on it, a lone wolf might die. I mean most wolves run in pacts. They aren't meant to be alone.

So, if it's alone, it was probably abandoned, so that fits me mentally. It more likely was injured in some way a defect I guess that fits me too. Wolves had a pretty coat at first, but after all the fights they get into, they tend not to maintain that beautiful coat of theirs.

So, minding my business well people, watching as I typically do. I mean, I want the best story, and after, Jason Blossom’s murder. He was shot, which is better than him drowning to death since he was supposed to be this grade A swimmer, so he should have known how to swim. That or do the dead man's float even I am capable of that one. Yet, why was he shot, and for what reason? I was pondering this exact thought when Pop Tate himself came over to me, "Hey Jug, it's 3 A.M. I need you to go home at least for a little while. So, I can pretend I'm not running a hotel."

I blushed from embarrassment. I was going to have to go to my little hole in the wall. Closet now that the drive-in was no longer. I couldn't go home. My dad was violent when he drank. It was a given he'd be drinking today probably all day it being Saturday early morning. I was not going to let my dad beat me because he was drunk or asked where I have been? Where was his food if I was at Pop's. When he knew my job was at the drive-inn and now that was gone taken from me. I still held the picture in my backpack of JellyBean and me. It made my heart hurt. Knowing her and mom just up and left me with that monster. Yet, I think I reminded mom by looks alone too much of him, and she couldn't see my face. I had resentment sure which 15-year-old kid wouldn't?

Yet looking at Pop Tate, I understood his predicament. I stayed for hours here, unless Archie invited me to his place, which was less these days because he was so into football. Pop fed me like I was his foster son. He never asked for payment, and every once in a while, I'd do odd and end jobs, and he'd smile, and I would feel like I repaid some of my debt. Knowing it could never truly be repaid. Pop Tate was a saint for putting up with me, feeding me and keeping me warm this long without asking any questions.

I nodded and said, "Thanks, Pop." He put out his hand, and a paper bag was in it, "For the road until I see you again for breakfast," he had a genuine grin on his face. Like he truly wanted me back. I took the bag, and I hugged him. He embraced my hug.

I was heading for the school and to my secret window when I heard a noise in the bushes. I figured it was just a rabbit. Yeah, a rabbit. Yet, it was howling like a wolf. I wanted to creep closer. Was it hurt? Why would a wolf be in Riverdale? Maybe, just maybe it was an injured dog. I thought back to Archie's dog, and I wouldn't want it lying there alone, crying.

So, I took out my pocket knife encase. I went closer to the bushes, and that's when I saw it. The most vivid white wolf I have ever seen with these emerald eyes pleading for me to stay away. Yet, I couldn't. I looked at the wolf, and I saw that its paw was bleeding badly. The wolf was also limping, and I wondered, was the leg broken? Was it merely limping do to the paw alone? I wasn't sure, and I was about to call the DNR when the wolf smacked my phone away from my hand.

I was fuming. That phone and my computer may be old, but that's all I had. It wasn't a smartphone like my friends had, but it was a phone, and it was mine. If that stupid wolf broke it, I was going to be livid. Yet, I looked again, it's emerald eyes and saw the pain. Like I could feel it, but how?

I went to try to get my phone when the stupid wolves paw landed on it, "Hey," I shouted. Great, I'm talking to a wolf. When suddenly, the wolf let out a yelp. I saw it. I thought I was dreaming at first, but no, I was still here before Riverdale High and my hole in the wall. The wolf was transforming before my very eyes.

Her vivid white fur becomes peach-colored skin. She had on pink polka undies that made me blush and a pink bra again, making me blush for looking. I turned around embarrassed for her and myself. I would never want to get caught like this. Yet, I wasn't a werewolf. Wait, those are real? I turned to see a shimmer of blonde, yet instead of that iconic ponytail, her hair was wavy and down. It couldn't be, could it? No, way Betty Cooper was a werewolf? Yes, I must be dreaming. I pinched myself. Nope, still here. I heard her whimper behind me. I knew she was injured. Yet, she was practically naked.

I realized I still had my flannel shirt around my waist, so I threw it to her. Hoping that would help. I decided to walk fast away from her towards the direction of the school. I was livid. Why didn't Betty tell me? I thought I was her horror movie, buddy? Her go-to number 2 guy? Only because she wanted Archie. I could never be Archie. I was the cynic, the half-empty guy, the loner that nobody wanted to say out loud they were my friend. I was the social pariah, the outcast, the person from the wrong side of town, the one that shouldn't even be going to Riverdale High. Yet, I was told by my social worker that I'd be going because they didn't want to fail me. I had potential. Blah. I was so mad at Betty. It's not even sunrise yet, so why was she changing? Was it because she was hurt? I didn't care; I muttered to myself. I had no real clue how the Supernatural worked. I never truly believed in it. Now, I saw what she was a werewolf, and I was truly alone.

Next thing I knew, I spun around so fast and was thrown to the ground held down. "What did you see?" "Get off of me" I tried to fight her off, but she was too strong.

"I'll let you go when you tell me what you saw," Betty gripped harder.

I yelped in pain. I just wanted her to let go. Her eyes looked sharp, jagged even. Did her eyes glow? Did I imagine that? I have no idea anymore about anything.

I closed my eyes and hoped this was all a bad fucked up nightmare. I just wanted to go to my bed in the hole in the wall. I just wanted my friend Betty the one I thought was like me, well human, anyway.

I felt a tear pierce my skin. Of course, I'd cry. "I'm not going away" her voice was angry and husky I looked up I swear my eyes were pleading with hers, "I didn't see anything, I just want to go home." she shook me hit my head against the ground, "You lie!" Sure we all lie, but in this case, not really. I turned around when Betty changed. I didn't see her get hurt. I heard the cry and was hoping it was an injured dog. "i... I di...did didn't sssseee any anything." Great, now I'm stuttering! she scratched me, "Lie again, and it will be your eye!" I thought she was my friend. I thought wrong. I Gulped down as more tears began to fall. "What do you want me to say? I'll say it," I began to plead. I feel defeated, feeling humiliated. My heart rejected by a friend I knew since Childhood.

Her green eyes looked straight into me. Like she could see my soul. She shivered. She howled. I thought she changed from her wolf form? Why was she still howling? Is it a process? Does she not realize she's not a wolf anymore? My mind was thinking and analyzing every little thing when she hit me. "Get up!" Yeah, that would be so easy. That's what I was doing when you rudely laid me flat. Wouldn't let me get up, but now you will after threatening my eye? I wanted to scream. Yet I got up on wobbly legs. She put my hands behind my back, and she looked like she was going to kill me. "What did you see?" "Nothing, I turned my back." "What did you see before that?" "a wolf that was injured. I was going to call the DNR, but the wolf rudely took my phone." She had the nerve to look at me sheepishly." This phone?" As she picked it up off the ground? Slipping the phone into my back pocket so I couldn't get it. Betty's green eyes stared straight into my blue eyes and stated, "you aren't lying." I wanted to scream, no shit. Instead, I said, "Can I go now?" She looked sad, "Unfortunately, No." "WHAT" "You can't because you saw me." "I did not" I stomped my foot I was throwing a tantrum. "Jughead, you did. You handed me this." I finally looked at her. She was wearing my flannel. It made my heart sing. Yet, something else filled it with dread. She was using that against me. Cause I gave her my clothes? "Hand it back. We can pretend I never saw you with basically nothing on. My apologies you wanted to walk around with your bra and panties." Betty looked pissed at me now, and I didn't care, "I CAN'T have your smell on me, Jughead. If I go back and we don't explain what happened, you might have a hit out on you from one of them thinking you can't be trusted." I glared at her, "Really, they'd kill me because I know? Well, why don't you kill me? I have no protection, anyway!" She laughed and smiled, "Oh Jug, you are so dramatic." she shrugged, "Plus, why are you overreacting about this?"

Had I entered the twilight zone? It was the full moon, after all. But somehow I went off, "Really, Betty, you hid this from me, I was supposed to be your friend. Why would you expect me to be okay with this? You threaten me. You hurt me, and you don't care. You act like this is a normal thing. I want to go home and go to sleep."

Betty's wickedness was back, "Oh Jug, but your house is in the opposite direction. The way you were walking was to the High School. So, I'm not the only one holding secrets. Plus, I couldn't kill you, but I might use you as my pet. If you continue with this little game of yours, so stop being upset and march. I wouldn't want to have to force you."

I gulped. I felt Betty's hand on my neck. She kissed my cheek. she whispered in my ear, "If you are a good boy, I might let you sleep in my bed later." She smiled that wicked smile, "I always liked you, Jug, and after tonight, don't worry, I won't turn you, but I might just make you mine."

I thought this would be a typical night to walk home. I was deadly wrong. I'd be happy if I made it out of this still alive along with being human as I marched to the unknown with my hands behind my back with a robust supernatural being that I love.

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goldenmeme · 5 years ago

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Untitled Sanders Sides fic!

My fic got Jossed hardcore, so I’m just throwing up the first chapter as a stand-alone instead. It was originally titled “Five Time Deceit Told Thomas His Name (and One Time He Didn’t)” but like... obvs that’s not going to work now. So just imagine this snippet takes place sometime between Intrusive Thoughts and Putting Others First. No spoilers for POF.

Untitled, 2,200 words, PG-13 (Virgil says a swear), no pairings.

Summary: Thomas can’t sleep. Deceit wants to help.

"--then you'll say, 'Well, when you've seen one, you've seen them all,' and Patton will say, 'Yes but this one's eating my pizza!'"

Roman paused for the inevitable roar of laughter and adulation. None came.

"Thomas? Thomas. You're not writing this down. I'm giving you comedy gold and you're letting it fall through your fingers like sand through your... fingers…"

Thomas rolled over just enough to unbury half of his mouth from the pillow. "Roman. Buddy. It's almost 5 AM."

"Well we could have worked on scripts earlier, but you insisted on watching Parks and Rec until inhuman hours again. I need opportunity to create!" The bedsheets rustled behind Thomas with the force of Roman’s gesticulating.

"What happened to 5 PM, when I specifically set aside time to write and then spent an entire hour staring at a blank word document?"

The mattress dipped in a way that, even with his back turned and his eyes closed, somehow managed to convey the haughtiness of Roman’s shrug. "I wasn't feeling inspired at that time."

"Could we maybe try being inspired tomorrow morning instead?"

"I can't control when the muse strikes me, Thomas."

"You’re my muse," Thomas said. He rolled onto his back to starfish out, smacking Roman on the shoulder with one floppy arm. All he wanted in the world was sleep, but apparently Roman wasn’t going to let that happen. "Does my muse have his own muse? How does that even work?"

To Thomas’s right, Logan cleared his throat. Logan thought beds were no place for anthropomorphic personifications of facets of personality, so whenever they congregated in Thomas's bedroom his customary spot was sitting primly beside the bed in a utilitarian office chair he'd conjured from the Dreamscape.

He said, "As amusing as this musing on muses may be, I must remind you how essential it is to maintain a consistent sleep schedule for the--"

"Yup!" Thomas half-shouted. "Thanks Logan, I got it. We go over this at least four times a week."

"And yet you--"

Patton blindly batted a fuzzy paw at everyone and whined, "Nnnnnnnnn, s’sleepy time now." He was cuddled in a ball at the foot of the bed in his cozy kitty onesie. At night he also jammed an old-fashioned long stocking cap over the hood because he thought it made him look more, as he put it, "bedtimey", though the kitty ears distorted the hat and made his head look weirdly lumpy.

“Patton is correct,” Logan said. “It is, unequivocally, sleepy time now, so Roman, if you’ll just put a pin in your ill-timed inspiration--”

"But my witty dialogue…"

"--I promise we'll write your script first thing in the morning--"

Thomas squinted at Logan's silhouette in the darkness. Something seemed... off...

"—when we all have a fresh perspective and Thomas has gotten seven-to-eight hours of restful sleep.”

"… Deceit?" Thomas said.

"Hm," Logan said.

Like a flower blooming in fast motion, his silhouette sprouted a shadowy shape that coalesced into a bowler hat. Deceit pulled off Logan's glasses and threw them behind himself, where they crunched against the wall.

Roman smacked Thomas on the shoulder three times before pointing frantically, as if Thomas may have missed the transformation.

Deceit said, “I just love how much easier it’s gotten for you to spot my little dress-up games. What gave me away this time?”

“I always forget any ideas I have right before I fall asleep,” Thomas said. “Logan would tell me to write it down in my phone’s notes sooner than later, because if I just try to remember it Roman will keep me up for hours badgering me about it, and I’ll forget by morning anyway. If I make myself a note, Roman can be secure in the knowledge that his work won’t get lost in my brain over the next eight hours, and he’ll let me sleep.”

They’d worked that one out years ago. Thomas still had problems remembering the system if Logan didn’t pop in to explicitly remind him, because in the moment Thomas just wanted to sleep and it felt counter-intuitive to get out his phone and start writing instead.

“Curse that fool and his established systems,” Deceit said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t just stop by?”

“Um. Can you?”

“I know you don’t believe that I have your best interests at heart,” Deceit said, “but I do. You wanted sleep. I came to shut the Prince up so that you could get it.”

“Hey!” Roman said.

“You didn’t have to impersonate Logan to do that,” Thomas said.

“Didn’t I? Would you have even considered heeding my advice, had I appeared to you as myself?”

Well…

Across the room, the closet door swung open with an ominous creak.

When Virgil had first started showing up in Thomas’s room, he’d lurked in the closet like the monster they all thought he was back then, glaring out of the barely-cracked door, only ever speaking when Thomas was on the very edge of sleep, and only then because he couldn’t stand to let the important questions the others never asked go unsaid. Questions like, “If you died right now, how long would it take someone to find your body?” and, “Where is your wallet? Do you remember having it when you got home today?” and, “Remember that time in chorus?”

Now that he and Thomas had found a workable equilibrium, Virgil still hung out in the closet (yes, the joke had been made several dozen times) because it was small and dark and comforting. Except now instead of hiding behind a mostly closed door, when the others were feeling chatty he’d sprawl in the open doorway, back propped against the frame and one boot braced on the other side.

He still liked to make an entrance, though. Thomas’s closet door didn’t creak when anyone else opened it.

Instead of sprawling in the doorway, today Virgil appeared sitting aggressively crisscross applesauce in it. “No. He’d have told you to fuck off, like he’s doing right now.”

Deceit smiled bitterly. “Oh good, Anxiety is here.”

“Guys,” Thomas said. “Come on, no fighting. I’m--just--I’m just trying to sleep…”

“And I am just trying to facilitate that,” Deceit said. “I had hoped to do so with as little fuss as possible, but evidently you’re getting much better at spotting me. I may have to retire that tactic.”

“Wait,” Thomas said, horror dawning. “How often have you impersonated the others without me noticing?”

“Why, never!” Deceit said. “You’ve managed to catch me at it every last time! Brava to you.”

“Somehow I do not find that reassuring,” Thomas said.

“Trust issues,” Deceit said, nodding sympathetically.

Roman said, “Only when it comes to you, Deceit. Are you even capable of telling the truth?”

“Oh I assure you, I am very… capable.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it. Say one true thing, right now.”

“Fine,” Deceit said. “RENT is overrated.”

“HOW DARE YOU—”

Thomas had to physically stop Roman from launching himself across the bed. “Okay, woah, hey, eeeeeasy big guy.”

“Thomas, did you hear what he said about RENT?!”

“Yes, immediately after we’d established that he in incapable of telling the truth. Think of everything he says as like… backward-land.”

“So… when he says RENT is…” Roman couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. “What he meant was that it’s an incomparable masterpiece of theatrical genius soiled only by the somewhat questionable staging choices of the cinema adaptation?”

Deceit caught Thomas’s eye from behind Roman’s back. Deceit rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “That’s definitely what he meant.”

“It’s as if you took the words right out of my mouth,” Deceit drawled. “Playful ribbing aside, of course I’m capable of speaking the truth. Why, I’ve made five true statements within this conversation alone. I simply prefer to play my cards closer to the chest than the rest of you bleeding heart goodie-goodie-goobers.”

Thomas said, “You understand that the constant lying makes it really difficult for us to trust anything you say.”

Deceit, surprisingly, actually seemed to think about that. He pressed his steepled fingers to his lips. After a moment’s thought, he said, “You’re right. How about, as a show of faith, you may ask me one thing, and I promise I will answer truthfully.”

Roman rushed out, “Say one nice thing about RENT!”

Deceit said, “Thomas may ask me one thing and I promise to answer truthfully.”

“Really?” Thomas said.

“On my word as a construct of your imagination.”

“What’s your name?”

“… That’s it? You get one, single, honest answer from me, and you waste it to ask my name?”

“Well sure. I know the names of all my other sides, and I can’t very well make you a Christmas stocking with your name on it if I don’t know your name, now can I?”

“Dear god. Your moral side is asleep, how are you still this unbearably saccharine? Fine. My name…” he took a deep breath and gathered his pride, “is Ethan.”

“Oh,” Thomas said. “Huh.”

“What?”

“No, nothing, it’s a good name! It… goes with everyone else’s names?”

“Naturally! Logan, Patton, Roman, and Ethan. Derived of course from Logic, Pathos, Romance, and Ethos.”

Roman gasped. “Thomas, you named me for romance?”

Thomas said, “I don’t… think I named you? You told me your name. I don’t really know how this works.”

Deceit said, “That’s right, Casanova, he did! Did you catch the emphasis I put on the no there? Casa nooooooo va… Anyway, yes, we’re all one big, happy family, all with names that fit tidily into one single convenient naming convention. Well. Except Virgil, of course. Ah, Virgil. Our little eternal outcast. Even his name doesn’t fit in with the rest of us.”

Virgil said, “What do you mean the rest of us? You’re not like them.”

“Hey, you can’t argue with etymology. It’s science.”

Thomas said, “That’s not—a science…”

“Um, it ends in -ology, sooo, yes it is.”

Virgil said, “Remus doesn’t fit that naming convention either.”

Deceit’s smile froze. “Ah. Remus told you his name, did he? I should have known the embodiment of zero impulse control wouldn’t be able to keep privileged information to himself.”

“If you think about it,” Virgil said, “only Thomas’s Good Sides fit that pattern.”

“So nice of you to finally acknowledge the fact that I am one of Thomas’s Virtuous Sides, and not an Evil Side like you, Anxiety.”

Patton thrashed suddenly in his sleep, swiping a velvety, kitten-pawed fist at an invisible enemy before mumbling something mostly illegible that might have ended with, “me or my son again,” and settling back into stillness.

Virgil had to force the fond expression off his face before turning back to Deceit. “Do you really think Thomas is going to buy that you’re supposed to be the embodiment of ethos?”

Roman leaned close to Thomas to whisper-shout in his ear, “Thomas, what’s ethos?”

“Uhhh,” Thomas said. He’d definitely known that once. Logan probably still knew it, but Thomas hadn’t consciously retained much of the Communications course he’d taken in college. “I think it has to do with… the ideals of a society as a whole?…”

“And isn’t that just me to a T,” Deceit said. He was already sinking down as he rushed out the final words, “Okay well it was nice to officially be known by you, good night now—”

“Wait,” Thomas said.

Deceit reappeared, already glowering.

“Your name isn’t Ethan, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Deceit said, voice dripping with… something. Whatever it was, it was not sincerity.

Thomas should have known. With all his other sides, learning their names had felt right, like it was knowledge he’d already had that he’d only needed to be reminded of. Deceit just didn’t strike him as an Ethan.

Roman said, “Why, you’re… lying!” like it was only just dawning on him. “But you promised Thomas an honest answer!”

“And there’s no possible way I could have been lying about that, too,” Deceit agreed. “Are you not understanding this—” he gestured to encompass all of himself, “--whole thing yet? It really is a good thing you’re pretty.”

The ire drained out of Roman in an instant. “I am pretty, aren’t I?”

“And so very quick-witted,” Deceit said. He gave Thomas a tight smile and sunk out of the room before anyone else could protest.

“You know, I think he’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be,” Roman said.

Thomas rolled onto his stomach and buried his face back into the pillow. With Deceit gone, exhaustion was making itself known again, darkening the edges of his consciousness. It was sooo past his bedtime. “Good night, Roman.”

“Good night Thomas.”

“Night, Virg.”

Virgil’s response was the click of the closet door closing. Thomas couldn’t sleep if it was open, on account of monsters.

Sleep came quickly after that.

***

The next morning—well, afternoon, but Thomas had just woken up—Logan scrolled through Thomas’s phone while Thomas puttered around the kitchen singing breakfast songs to the appliances.

“This is my jam, this is my jam, this is my toast, this is my knife, and this is my jam…”

“Thomas, where did you put Roman’s idea?”

“Hmm? What idea?”

“My records say that Roman had an idea last night, but I don’t see anything in your notes. You couldn’t have forgotten. We have a system.”

Oh. Oooooh no.

#Sanders Sides #Fic #No spoilers #RENT is overrated though #fight me

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fipindustries · 5 years ago

Text

my experience with my gender and my sexuality

because i think it is about fucking time i talk about this somewhere. this is a cheerful post, intimate sure, way too oversharing, certainly, but i like to think of it as joyous sharing because i feel like i can finally talk about this stuff freely and gosh ive been keeping so many things on the inside and now i just want to shout them to the world, consequences be damned

for years i have fantasized about becoming a woman. i will say it here now: i want to be a woman, i want to try it, i want to know what is like to look like one, to dress like one, to be called one, to be treated as one. if after a while i get bored of it, or tired or figure out its not my true self, or it just doesnt fit me for whatever reason then i reserve the right to back off and try something else. but for now this is my state of being and im going to share the story of how i got here.

my earliest memories of dealing with this confusion are about me reading a magazine talking about trans issues and me watching the movie “ma vie en rose” and “boys dont cry”. i was too young perhaps to be exposed to these ideas in such a candid and direct way. perhaps not mature enough to fully process or understand what i had seen, to the point that for most of my childhood i had this irrational fear that i would become a woman when i hit puberty. that my dick would just shrink into a vagina, that i would start growing tits, that i would get pregnant, etc.

i was a very unmasculine child, i didnt like sports, in fact i didnt like most typically boyish stuff. i thought muscles where gross, i thought violence and fighting was scary. i thought most boys played too rough for my taste. i was meek, shy, and a huge nerd. but i also had a strange rejection for most girly stuff. it was too soft and frilly and silly and pink and yucky. on top of all that, my understanding of trans people was mostly shaped then by drag queens and outrageous transvestites whose aesthetic, to this day, i find garish, over the top and unpleasant to look at. sorry, is just not something i identify with.

during this time i started to engage in all sorts of strange games as a child. i would start trying on my sister’s panties or my mom’s panties in the shower. i would created these elaborate scenarios where i would have all the stuffed toys in my room “kidnap” me, force me to give birth to them and then breast feed them.

cartoon shows that dealt with themes of gender bending held a powerful fascination to me, i particularly remember the fairly odd parents episode “the boy who would be queen”. i had this strange sense of love-hate relationship with it and anything on that topic where i just couldnt help to be obssessed with it but at the same time feel like it was illicit or transgressive for me to watch it.

then i hit puberty and a light switch went off. where instead of being scared or unnerved by those ideas i just kept obssessing more and more over them. i started googling everything i could about gender bending, about gynecomastia, about how to grow breasts with certain herbs or supplements. it was specifically on the breasts that i was fixated, i kept promissing myself that i would get them no matter what.

at the same time on the outside i was more than comfortable presenting myself as a boy, a geeky boy sure, but a boy all the same. i liked wearing high waisted pants, tucked in shirt and tie. i liked having short hair. i fantasized about growing a mustache. what’s more i definetly identified as a boy. i went to an all boy’s high school where we were taught stereotipicaly male things like working with heavy machinery, welding, general workshop engeneering stuff and i enjoyed all of it. i was still a huge outcast and not the manliest person but back then i figured it was because i was just a huge nerd.

i had no rejection of my body or the changes it was going through, i grew hair, limbs, genitals, etc and didnt thought much of it that i can recall, beyond a vague sense of not wanting to look too adult because it made me look too much like my dad, with whom i never had the best of relationships. beyond that socially i was a boy and had no issues fitting there.

i masturbated a lot, and a lot of those fantasies involved gender bending. usually boys growing breasts, boys being subjected to forced feminization, etc. there were other fantasies but those dont have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand. one of the things that excited me the most back then was to call myself a woman. to insist over and over that i was a girl. like the feeling that i was brainwashing myself into femminity was a huge turn on (this is why for the longest time i was convinced i was an autogynephile, and honestly, jury’s still out on that account). then, as soon as i finished i would quickly tell myself “im not a woman” as a strange way of “no homo” myself from my fantasies. i was still doing ocassional crossdressing whenever i was alone at home with my mom’s clothes, again, usually for the purposes of masturbation

i have been attracted to girls for the large majority of my life, it wouldnt be until college that i would experiment with boys too and found that i could enjoy that as well, but my main interest has always been consistently girls. yet a lot of the time my attraction towards girls would come from a place of envy. of apreciating how pretty they looked and wishing i could look that pretty myself. once i started college most of these fantasies came with me, i kept researching about gender bending and about ways i could try to gender bend myself. some times it was because of fetishistic reasons but a lot of the time was because i just found the subject inherently fascinating. it was like this that i came across a lot of information about trans people, back in like 2011 and when i first started to really understand them as a community and grapple with concepts such a gender dysphoria and such. back then i reached the conclussion that while i understood and sympathized with trans women, i was just a crossdresser because i didnt experience gender dysphoria and because i had never experienced anything even close to the feeling of “being a woman on the inside”.

what was more, it was around this time that identity politics really started to get traction, things like “die cis scum”, “yes all men”, “white men tears” etc started to be thrown around and, as someone who had been identifying as male for his entire life, i felt personally attacked by most of it. an immature reaction on hindsight, but a reaction that cemented in my mind the idea that i was a man and there were no buts or ifs about it.

i kept crossdressing, i kept fantasizing, i kept fetishizing. i even experiemented with auto hypnosis because i was realizing more and more that i was never going to be able to truly make my fantasy about becoming a woman real so was was willing to try anything that would get me even close to it. i cross dressed because i liked the way i looked, i liked the way the clothes felt against my skin, i liked the feeling of trying on a different role, one that was forbidden to me. as time went on i stated doing it less and less because of the sexual gratification and more for its own sake.

then the crisis came.

i wrote about this before, i saw a bunch of people i knew coming out of the closet at an advanced age, people like jacob chapman, the wachowsky sisters, even reading about the story of how allison bechdel. the idea of someone figuring out their identity way into their adulthood shattered my world view and it introduced me the possibility that i might be in the same situation, which led me to panic. all the crossdressing, the fascination with gender bending and with trans issues were strongly suggestive if nothing else, but back then i was just not ready at all to confront those possibilities so i supressed like a mad man.

three years later, here i am. during those three years i slowly and gradually came to grips the possibility, slowly losing my fear of what i might lose if i came out of the closet, slowly examining my self and comparing my story with the story of others in the community. finding differences but also finding a lot of similarities. for the longest time my trans ex girlfriend would insist that i was very much not trans because a lot of my experiences were very different from hers, such as the fact that i never had issues inhabiting the rol of a boy whereas her dysphoria had been strong enough to the point of suicidal tendencies for most of her life.

one of my biggest concerns had always been the fact that i had heard from many trans people that their dysphoria hadnt really kicked in until after they started transitioning. as in, once they started trying to look like women then they realized how far away they were from truly being one, making what until then had been a vague feeling of discomfort into a true rejection of their own body. but then on the other hand there was also the real possibility that i would end up having a mental breakdown once i hit my fifties after years of repression and by that point i would look like just an old man in a wig

i think what finally made me tip over the edge were the contra points videos and the reddit community egg_irl. i just identified too much with what i saw there, and breaking up with my gf had left me free to explore those feelings without fear of ruining my relationship. so where does that leave me?

still confused, but no longer scared of the answers. willing to give this and honest go and see where it takes me. im still not ready to call myself a trans girl with all the letters. i understand that gender is complicated but i would really appreciate a unified theory of gender to help me make heads or tails of what i am and what i am feeling beyond vague notions about “the spectrum” and “social roles”. i guess i could be considered gender fluid as of right now but honestly that label doesnt mean that much to me on a practical sense considering i am still presenting my self as a boy in my every day life with one or two exceptions

i have a lot of work ahead of me and for once i am excited about doing it right.

#most of this is just me drafting what im going to say to my therapist #rambly

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seeroftodayandtomorrow · 6 years ago

Text

A Musical Affair

Rating: M

Summary: Blaine's life has been shaped by scandal. Now his livelihood and, it sometimes seems, his sanity depend on him being as inconspicuous as possible. But a group of unusual friends cause his resolve to totter, and a beautiful singer might shatter it completely.

Historical AU

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Blaine's life changed, quite literally, with a bang.

It was the noise his father's pistol made when it went off, leaving his father lying crumbled on the floor of his study, the pistol still clutched in his lifeless hand.

The maid who found him kept her head, and quietly alerted the butler, who in turn alerted the lady of the house, Blaine's mother, and after that, the authorities.

The policeman who arrived was rather more flustered than such an obvious suicide seemed to justify, while Lady Dalton seemed unusually calm for the occasion. She glanced once at her husband's body and then retreated to her own study to write a note to her modiste, ordering mourning clothes, and then a letter to her son, ordering him home from school.

By the time Blaine arrived, things had cleared up a little, and the reasons for his father's suicide were slowly coming to light. He had not been prone to depression, instead being in the lucky condition of always considering himself in the right and everyone else inherently inferior. His wealth and position in life had confirmed him in that opinion. For him to take his own life would have been unimaginable only a week ago. Yet there he was, laid out in his bedroom, awaiting his funeral that a generous sum given to the vicar ensured would be inside the graveyard instead of outside its walls, despite the blasphemous nature of his death.

In the end, his suicide was labeled as “doing the honorable thing”. It meant that what he had done was too bad to live with it—or not exactly bad, because surely a peer of the realm was above such behavior—but unworthy enough that only death could atone for it, and that seeking it for himself was acting honorably. To Blaine, it mostly meant that he acted like a coward, leaving his family to deal with the repercussions by themselves.

Or, as it turned out, his families.

“What do you mean, you are not his wife?” he could not help interrupting when his mother and their family solicitor sat him down in the library to explain the situation.

“It turns out your father was a bigamist,” Blaine's mother said bitterly, turning her head away. “And to think I always hesitated to leave him, because of the scandal....”

Blaine turned helplessly towards the solicitor, hoping for him to explain the situation.

The solicitor actually blushed. “It appears that the late Lord Dalton was already married when he wed your honored mother. He managed to hide the marriage, which he seemed to regret after a very short time, but that doesn't change that this lady, not your mother, was—she is recently deceased—the real countess.”

“But -”

“No but. I am not and have never been a countess. And you, dear Blaine, are not an earl.”

“But I am my father's son,” Blaine protested, although he silently wondered if another surprise was coming his way in that regard. The coldness of his parents' marriage had been no secret. But no, he looked like his father too much for there to be any doubt about his parentage.

“Illegitimate son, since your parents were not actually married,” the solicitor said. “In addition to that, your father's marriage to his lady was blessed with offspring.”

“I have siblings?” Blaine's elder brother Cooper had died when Blaine was still a toddler. He hardly remembered him, but had always wished for a brother.

“You have an older half-brother. He is the new Lord Dalton. He also wishes no contact with you or your mother, but instead is eager to claim his inheritance.”

Blaine's excitement that had barely dared lift its head died again. He swallowed. “So what about us?”

“We move in with my mother,” his mother said, “and live out our days in genteel poverty.”

It was not poverty, not even genteel. Blaine only had an inkling about what real poverty looked like—he had been advised to avoid certain regions of the city if he wanted his purse and his body intact—but it wasn't this. His grandmother lived in a spacious town house that was close enough to Mayfair to be almost fashionable, with enough staff to make them comfortable, and an excellent cook.

But that didn't mean there were no differences to his old life. His valet was given notice and replaced with the occasional services of his grandmother's footman. He was taken out of school completely, the fees being too high to let him complete even his last year. He was given the choice between a different, cheaper school, and staying home with his mother and grandmother and thinking about maybe finding some sort of work. His mother gasped at that word, but Blaine knew he was educated enough to make him eligible for work as a clerk or some such, and he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea.

He chose to stay home, to give himself the opportunity to get used to his new situation as much as to avoid being the subject of gossip by his classmates.

But there was no avoiding being the subject of gossip by society in general.

Everything happened very fast after that talk in the library. Blaine and his mother packed their things and moved in with Blaine's grandmother, who graciously, as she explained, opened her home to them on the condition that they, on their part, accept a few conditions of their own.

“I have been the cause of scandal once,” she declared. “Now you have been as well, through no fault of your own, but that is it. Not even the shadow of any new scandal will taint this house or any that live in it.”

Blaine, he often thought, took the restrictions on his behavior with more ease then his mother. Declaring herself too young still to be a matron, she longed to be the belle of the ball again, reliving that one season she had danced through before being married off—or so everyone thought—to the older, sedate and as it turned out, ill-tempered, neglectful and deceitful Earl of Dalton.

Almost from the first day of their stay, she began arguing with Grandmother.

“What does it matter if I cause any more scandal? They can hardly gossip any more than they already do! What scandal could possibly surpass a case of bigamy?”

But since Grandmama held the purse strings, Mother was forced to relent and accept the more appropriate diversions she was allowed, and to make the most of them.

“There is one good thing about all this mess after all,” she said, not being one to dwell on the negative, “I don't have to wear black.”

While Mother reworked her gowns in the most colorful and fanciful way she could while still adhering to Grandmama's idea of good taste, Blaine quietly and regretfully banned his patterned waistcoats with their mother-of-pearl buttons to the back of his closet. He felt that the sedately striped ones in various shades of gray were more fitting for his own desire to be noticed as little as possible.

But of course, even the most inconspicuous waistcoat was no use against gossip. Mother was right: they were a source of scandal, and until the next came along and diverted society's attention, they would be stared at and talked about wherever they went.

Blaine stood against a wall, to his one side an ornate column, to his other a decorative plant. He was balancing a saucer and cup of tea in one hand, but the tea had long since grown cold, as he had only accepted it in order to have something to do with his hands.

He was chaperoning, as Grandmama had called it, his mother to a musical soiree. For his mother, it was much needed society, talk and flirting; for Blaine, it was...well. He was aware that a musical soiree was an opportunity for the young ladies to exhibit their talents and accomplishments, and for the gentlemen, it was an opportunity to admire them and maybe even dare propose the occasional duet. In short, it meant that Grandmama had not given up hope that despite being merely the illegitimate son of a disgraced earl, he might make an eligible match.

Blaine did not share that hope. In fact, not being required to marry might be the one good thing to come out of this mess. Having had only his parents' marriage—or what passed as a marriage—as an example, he did not think sharing his life with someone in that way was a good idea.

Although he had heard his grandparents' marriage had been loving and happy and that his grandfather had never rued the day he had almost made himself an outcast in polite society when he brought home his bride from the Philippines after the British Invasion.

He wouldn't mind the companionship a good marriage would bring, but he somehow didn't expect to make a good marriage.

In the meantime, being forced to attend these soirees and parties was little short of torture. They were stared at and whispered about at every turn, conversations would suddenly and awkwardly cease when he came into the vicinity of any group of people, and every greeting, or so he imagined, was followed by the whispered question of, “Isn't that the one who...?”

Mother mostly enjoyed the attention. But then, she was the wronged woman, the betrayed bride, and still young and beautiful enough to attract the right kind of sympathy.

Blaine was...merely a side effect, his very existence the result of deception. There were, he thought, still people who might think that being conceived in such a way would influence his character.

And so he leaned against the wall, seeking to disappear between the column and the plant until the blessed hour when they would finally be able to leave.

He winced at a sharp note from the girl currently singing.

“Terrible, isn't it?” a low voice came from the plant. A young lady, scarcely taller than the plant and in a dress in a similar color, that, Blaine thought, any self-respecting maid would never let her mistress leave the house in, glanced towards the group assembled around the piano and then back at him.

He recognized her, of course. Anyone who was anyone would. Rachel St. James, obscenely rich heiress who wore her married name that suggested the King's court with an attitude that seemed to regard this proximity to royalty as a birthright. She and her husband were so rich and had made themselves such an integral part of society that people all but overlooked Rachel's Jewish background and the fact that her father had made his fortune as a merchant.

By her next words, it was obvious she had recognized him as well. “How do I address you now that you're not Lord Dalton anymore?”

“Um...Blaine Anderson will do at the moment. My mother's maiden name. My grandfather was a baronet, but it's yet to be decided if I am allowed to bear his title.”

“Well, Mr. Anderson, I know and understand that you're unhappy to be here. Who wouldn't be, with these performances? But don't you dare leave. I'm singing later tonight, and you don't want to miss that.”

Then she was gone, mingling with the guests in her awful green dress, diminutive in stature but still standing out. Leaving him leaning against his wall, sipping his cold tea.

He would have risked her wrath by leaving early, had only his mother shown any inclination to do so. But she was sitting on an overstuffed chaiselongue in the back of the room, a glass of wine in her hand, and various men offering her sweetmeats on trays, competing for a glance from her eyes or a smile from her lips. Or so Blaine imagined. He wouldn't go back there for the world, not even to escape the newest singer.

Later tonight didn't arrive fast enough. He leaned against the wall, managed to avoid being talked to but not being stared at. Twice, he left his hiding place, once to use the gentlemen's room and once to acquire a second cup of tea, since he had somehow drained the first after all. He listened to the singers and the pianists, bad ones and good, and watched the people wander around the room, talking above the music.

Then, finally, the last performance of the evening was announced. The lady in question didn't need to put herself forward in order to find a husband anymore. She sang purely from love of the music—and, Blaine suspected, from a love of putting herself forward.

She was also very talented. It made Blaine actually glad he had stayed that long, and he closed his eyes to shut out the awful green dress and just listened to the music.

Afterwards, as the guests slowly began to search for their coats and shawls and head towards the entry, Rachel came up to him.

“Well, aren't you glad you stayed?” she asked, not at all shy in demanding the compliments her due.

“I am,” Blaine said and couldn't help but smile. “You have an amazing voice.”

“Since you obviously have good taste, I want to give you this.”

She handed him a small, surprisingly tasteful calling card; it stated that Lady St. James was “at home” on Wednesday morning.

“Only for a small group of very special friends,” she said. “Do come.”

#new story #klaine fanfiction #fic: a musical affair

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micropenisunveiled-blog · 6 years ago

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SPH & COMING OUT OF THE SMALL PENIS CLOSET

It is safe to say that most men who have a small penis have thought about whether or not to keep it secret or spill the beans. Coming out of the Small Dick Closet is a decision that each individual must make for himself. Quite honestly it is not safe for all gay men to come out of the closet. Similarly once you disclose that you have small penis that information has a tendency to become known.

For some men, fantasizing about being outed becomes the stuff of a fetish. I find the topic of Small Penis Humiliation (SPH) quite interesting. Certainly not all men with small penises have desire to be teased or humiliated, but there is a very real portion of the small penis population that seem to enjoy it. Based on conversations I have had with such men the SPH fetish seems to begin with the onset of adulthood. I have received a number of personal emails on this subject, from some men who are really turned on by this dynamic. This is a topic worthy of serious consideration for that group of men who enjoy teasing and outing. Despite my attempts to research this topic I have found very little in the way of research into the dynamics of this particular fetish.

Why Do Men Enjoy SPH? While I have found no scientific studies about this phenomenon, my own inquiries have revealed than in every case, the men with this fetish had experienced fairly significant ridicule, humiliation, or other abuse connected to their smaller endowment during childhood or their teenage years.

I have spoken with several men who have told me that their SPH fetish began for them in their teens, during gym class. They generally had experiences with boys in gym pointing and laughing. in some cases they were ridiculed by girls who had learned of their endowment from indiscrete peers. One man told me that a peer touched him, forced him to touch the other boy’s penis, made him masturbate, and called him queer.

While this is a terrible testament to the cruelty of teenagers, the men I spoke with grew past it. However, in coping with these experiences of ridicule, they began associating small penises with humiliation, and eventually with sexual pleasure. Since many, many people enjoy humiliation or degradation play as part of BDSM, I can see how this would make sense.

Most of us who live with a small penis spent some period in our lives diligently covering it up. Some men forgo participation in high school sports, remain chaste, refuse to change in public facilities, or otherwise work to keep their little secret just that, a secret. For those of us who have been outed--by family, girlfriends, boyfriends, team mates, school friends, etc. the consequences can be debilitating.

Do Men Subject to SPH Get Their Feelings Hurt?

Of the men I have spoken with, they all told me that it had hurt their feelings at first, but over the years they eventually they grew immune to it. One said he just realized he couldn't help it, as he could his weight or his hair color, and decided not to worry about it but enjoy getting the SPH attention he craved.

My Own Outing!

When I was outed in my sophomore year at school by bullies on a sports team, by shoving me out of the locker room naked into a gym full of other students, the three bullies got suspension for three days, but I served the life sentence. Basically the beans got spilled and my secret became common knowledge. I became an instant pariah, an object of ridicule, and social outcaste. Former friends avoided me because they didn’t want to be associated with me and become ridiculed themselves. Even my brother had a tantrum telling me that he wished he weren’t my brother because people assumed he also possessed a smaller endowment. So the consequences of an actual, real life outing, can be ego shattering. I never really recovered my social standing in school as there was always some bully who used my personal characteristics to put me down to build himself up. Also i had not yet learned how to “shrug off” teasing, and by reacting to it only made matters worse for myself. That’s the way it works.

Then Why Come Out Of The Small Penis Closet?

Given the reality of the negative consequences, why is it so arousing for some small endowed guys, to imagine themselves outed. Part of my theory is that in these cases the smaller endowed man is actually exhibiting some control in the outing process, which he believes in inevitable. For others the teasing has been linked to sexual activity, a potent reinforcer, so the fetish has basically been classically conditioned into being. For others, the actuality of being outed, is actually less anxiety provoking than managing the secret.

In the gay world, men do not come out of the gay closet to enlighten the world, they do it to feel better about themselves. At some point the gay man realizes that his own self esteem is taking more damage from his closeted status than from anything the world might actually send his way.

No one has any right to know about the size of your penis except your lover, so outing yourself is truly a personal decision, not a political one. However, when the truth gets withheld because of a self perception that your penis is shameful or inadequate, then at that point you’re just damaging yourself. Hiding a truth always most damages the person hiding the truth.

Men with a small penis on some level inherently realize that hiding the truth is not in their best interest and may begin to imaging how they would out themselves. Imaging these scenarios allows the individual to exert some control in a situation which feels out of control. So, why does even the mere possibility of it happening excite so many guys? This is another one of those no “one size fits all” answer.

So, how is a guy “outed?”

Well, the possibilities are really endless. Here are a few of the more common ways:

A close girlfriend (or confidant):

This is probably the most common scenario. Your wife tells her BFF that you have a small penis and requests that she doesn’t tell anyone else. The wife then tells her small endowed hubby/partner that her BFF knows, and it’s almost like the erotic gift that keeps on giving because from that point forward every time the hubby/partner sees the BFF it provides him with an ongoing source of both excitement and/or angst.

Multiple Girlfriends:

One man I have spoken with told me that he dreamed about being outed by his girlfriend to a group of her friends. He knew it was just a dream, but it left him feeling very uncomfortable. And no wonder he woke up uncomfortable, because now, his whole social circle of female friends knows about his secret. While he might be excited about this happening, and it might provide him an ongoing source of masturbation fodder, the ramifications of such a disclosure would no doubt be far reaching.

A Stranger:

One friend tells me about his girlfriend taking the initiative at a small town drug store to buy condoms, and at the counter asked the pharmacist, ion the presence of other patrons standing nearby “Do you have any small-sized condoms for my boyfriend?” He told me that he be felt himself blush with embarrassment as everyone turned to look at him and literally gulped. In this case he was outed by his girlfriend to a stranger in hi small town, where he knew that rumor would get retold. He heard all of it with his own ears and even saw the expression (probably a smile) on the female clerk’s face.

What are the risks of being Outed?

Many guys who expressed they desire to be outed also made it very clear they would want it done in a “controlled” way. But given human nature there is nothing controlled about the process. The only way to keep a secret it to keep it to yourself. Like sending a nude photo of yourself to a friend, you lose all control over it the moment you hit “send”. You are at the mercy of that friends discretion. And for the most part, humans are not very discrete.

People like to talk about “scandalous” news. People do this for many reasons. When your male friends make fun of your small penis, they are simultaneously casting themselves as “normal” or “endowed” men into a superior caste. Bullying has always been around, and I suspect it always will.

There are some very real consequences. Social ostracism, especially if you are in high school, been “perceived” differently by friends in the know, being teased, being ridiculed, sexual discrimination, or just being treated “differently” than how you were treated before. All of that can happen.

What are the Benefits?

When gay people began to come out and become recognized as “contributing citizens” and “role models” things began to change. However things do change slowly. Most men believe that any penis under 6 inches is “small”, when in fact recent studies have concluded that 5.17 inches in length and 4.6 inches in girth are true “average”. Statistically is you are average 90% of guys will be between 1.15" shorter or 1.11" longer than you. For years many men have believed that their 5 1/2inch penis was substandard, when in fact they were well within the biological norm. As men with small dicks stand up to be counted social norms will begin to change, but again social evolution is a slow process.

So What Can You Do?

Be true to yourself. Learn to channel your strengths and minimize your focus on your weaknesses. As much as our popular culture will foist the notion that you are no better than your penis, it just isn’t true. But now you have to convince other people of that. The only way to do that is when you believe it yourself. When you become self confident everything changes. People stop teasing you and start respecting you. Confidence, more than any other quality, determines the likelihood of success. Women identify “confidence” as a key attribute in attractiveness.

So What If You Enjoy SPH?

Be true to yourself. It is normal to have a fetish. Assuming it is not harmful, indulge in your fetish. And while a fetish isn’t harmful, if gets out of hand, it can be trouble. It can drive you and your sex life. Soon, it may also drive away the people close to you. You don’t have to deal with a fetish all your life. Here are a few signs that a small penis fetish is out of control:

It’s all you ever think about.

It makes you lose your concentration, and you start performing poorly at work or school because of it.

It comes up at random moments. Even when you’re not thinking about anything arousing, it comes to your mind.

It’s ruining your relationship or preventing you from being in a relationship.

You’re starting to drive your romantic partner crazy because of it, leading to arguments, misunderstandings and awkwardness during sex.

Some steps you can take to address a fetish are:

Confide in someone

Seek professional help which may include psychoanalysis, cognitive therapy, hypnosis, or

Stop engaging in the habit (easier said that done, ask anyone in NA,OA or AA).

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