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ramrodd · 1 year ago

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How did Heidegger not fall back in “ontotheology” that he criticized by virtually equating true Being with an apophatic God?

Yes, given his defense of the apophatic god of both Calvinism and the anti0christ of Hitlerism against Hegel/s Historic Gestalt. Connect the dots between Hegel’s Field of the Phenomenology of Spirt with Kurt Lewin’s political FOrce Field Analysis and you’s see what I mean

COMMENTARY:

don’t think I understand your question and, to the degree I might plumb the subtlety of your thinking, I think your premise is probably wrong.

Your question has help me clarify my own understanding of Heidegger in his context from my perspective. Newton, Kant and Hegel just blew up conventional wisdom between Aristotle and Spinoza. Both sides, idealists and empericists. Among other things, they achieved the synthesis of thought that had been put into motion about the time of Melchizedek and about 1400 years after the Boj of Job was writted. The Bible starts with the Book of Job and proceeds directly to the, which the theological code of law collided with the Roman secular rule of las arising from the ethical basis of Socrates’ example of civil law as the fundamental of a just society. The Romans had a better idea for the most efficacious of self-aware social contract. The critical path of mankind took a 90 degree re-orientation from the Law of Moses as the unique society that believed that history was going some place. Judaism was aesthe pleasing social contract, but, like the Pharoash’s, they were headed into the ozone, sort of like Jew Haley’s new tax burden on the American middleclass in the warfare of the January 6 republicans. The Roman Republic, which connected to the Roman SPQR at Socrates’ civic duty and was a creature of the roman secular rule of law and this form of government was headed to Sace, the Final Frontier. The Critical Pat oof both Jerusalem and the Roman Jesus ult originated with Geneasis 15:5 in terms of what we would call a Mission Statement, like Domino’s Mission Statement, which is my choice as the the best mission statement in the Fortune 500 and, unlike the Harvard MBA program, is based on the smal unit leadership model of the USMC. Jut like the Roman legions.

One of the things I love about Quora is that it allows me to think about things I didn’t have time for in colege. Philosophy and Literature, generally. And ROTC. I couldn’t major in ROTC, in literature because it was easy for me: I loved to read and I like things about the stuff I had read the way you do in the study of literature as cocktail party foreplay. One of the easiest ways to get laid in the 60s was to be able to discuss literature seriously with any woman and unloose the libido engaged. Getting a hard=on reading the Bible is a trope of the Total Depravity Gospel of the Pro-Life Jesus Freaks and, even reading Song of Songs does nothing for me and the Bishop, if you get my drift. But talking about scripture is how a lot of religious professionals get into the habit of sex with parishioners. Most of the good parts of sex happen in the personal psychosis and talking about literature, generally, can go straight to the ID.

What Hegel demonstrates conclusively is that the TULIP doctrine is an instrument of the anti-Christ. It is a subversive element of the strategy The Satan employed to trick God into letting The Satan to fuck with Job for no other reason that to indulge God’s pride of authorship in Job. Twice. And then God jump’s in Job’s shit a third time for impotence. Three time’s God betrayed Job with the same prideful boasting as Peter before he denied Christ three times before the cow crowed twice.

That, buy the say, is an example of the Holy Spirit at work, making the cock crow the second time on cue, if you are keeping score.

Jesus was sent by The One as atonement for fucking with Job 3 times. God promised Noah He wouldn’t destroy Israel by flood, but He didn’t stipulate against fire. Synagogue Socialism was God’s intent for Israel, al along This is the premise of process theology: The Book of Job is God’s promise of perfect Free Will to all born of woman. A consequence of Free Will is that we al emerge from magical thinking into innocent atheism, Hegel is correct about Reason: it is an acquired capacity of consciousness and begins with potty training, when pull-ups give way to the calibration of the Pucker Factor and self-actualization

Total Depravity ends when the mystery of Santa Claus is dispelled. . . The TULIP doctrine of Calvinism is grounded firmly on the Total Depravity of Eve without mitigation of the Cross. It is an excuse by the force of the anti-Christ to violate Free Will with the agony of the stake. The Total Depravity Gospel is a big part of the Jesus Inc business plan based on the Tax Free status of religious organizations as the primary money pump. Hate and Fear are big crowd pleasers in the Fire and Brim Stone branding of American Evangelicals. like Campus Crusade for Christ. .

Hegel bows it out of the water. Which is why people at Yale pretend they don’t understand Hegel when they understood Hegel exactly like William F. Buckley. It is part of the subversive agenda to conceal the shere analytic power of Hegel D-Day is a product of people who employed Hegel to wipe their butts by the numbers.

In any event, I have come to see Heidegger was engaged in a all out defense of Christianity. Hegel and Kant don’t reject Christianity in the least: they, in fact validate the natural divinity of humanity in the Categorical Imperative, with the metaphysically necessary atheism of Hume to ground Reason firmly on the unknowable essence of existence. His rules of evidence proceed from that existential benchmark. In an age when the TULIP doctrine was still hanging witches in America, thanks to the TULIP bias of thePuritans, it was safer to be a Skeptic than an atheist. It was an effective defense against the charge of heresy Kant and Hegel were accused of.

From my point of view, The Old Testament was an rough draft. Jesus was the final product process theology that began with Job. Jesus revises the Ghema to include Plato in the attributes of righteousness with “mind” and then He added the Atheist Clasue “Love Thy Neighbor as Thy Self”, the syntehsis of which abrogates the 624 Lws of the Mishnah and Talmud and justifies the Free Will of atheism as an an ethical behavior. KISS: Keep It Simple. God is perfectly content with atheist who live by the ethic of the Golden Rule, no matter where they heard it first. It is the Tao of the Logos.

All the glossary of Heidegger's inquiry from Being and Ime to his 1043 retranslation of the Greek before Socrates was chosen to refute Hegel., For example, the logos of Dasein was chosen as a deliberate allusion to John 1″1. An you can follow the trajectory of his narrative from an examination of the person in his environment although he didn’t employ that particular linguistic register which would develop out of his narrative. His most important insight alogh the way was the relationship of the mastrr carpenter to his/Her hamer. Again this is a transparent Reference to Jesus the Carpenter and the nature of allegory in Heidegger’s argument. Transparency is the operative word, The hammer represents the authority of the carpenter just as the transparency of the relationship of Jesus to the authority o The One is evident throughout His ministry and is established existentially by He Resurrection from the instrument of the Cross, the instrument of unambiguous due process of the Roman secular rule of law. The Death of Jesus is beyond confusion within the context of Hume’s roles of evidence Pilate’s report of his Resurrection to Rome is simply beyond the slight probability that it didn’t happen: Christianity would have happened without Mark 15, which is a consequence of the entry of the authority of The Noe into history as a consequence of a mundane bureaucratic method of systematic feedback.

The trajectory of logos from being in the world through transparency to metaphor basically validates the Figure of Hegel’s Historic Gestalt. Jesus, as the living, breathing authority of The One , is the logos at the leading edge of the narrative of the Gospel of Mrk. Go on YouBube and pull up an audio video of the Gospel of Mark and play it and wathc the dot of the time—stamp advance from left to right underneath the optics. That dot is the leading edge of the narrative drama paying out in your imagination and is the logos of Heidegger’s Dasein The logos is the point where Heidegger and Hegl are joind at the hp in regards to the divine nature of Jesus. And the Categorical Imperative is the chematic for the Bing in the world of the logos in an “all humans are created equal” andthe individual is creaed in the image of The one in that the gestalt of Human Perception reflects the Gestalt of the Mind of The One.

Heidegger was engaged in what Carl Rogers called “becoming a person”> and his narrative arc defines the epistemological intent of the US Army Ranger School. Heidegger’s problem, in answer to what I think your question infers, was that, by 1943, he was trying to justify Nazi Racial theory by pre=Socratic soial contract He was like Bart Ehrman, motivated by a desire to be popular with the Nazis who made fun of his theology. Like everybody after Newton, Kant and Hegel and before Kurt Lewin stumbled over Group Dynamics., they had no way of reconciling the idealism of Plato with the empiricism of Locke. It’s why linguistics became so important \. There was a great intellectual spasm between Spinoza and Locke and Kurt Lewin that made it possible to put man on the moon

So, in a very real sense, Heidegger was defending the apophatic god of of the TUPIP doctrine, but his ture emphasis, in his heart, was coincident with the irresistible grace of the logos of Jesus. If you understand Hegel like william F. Buckley understood Hegel, the moral confusion that plagued Heidegger evaporates. The thing to rememberis that all metaphor ultimately arils and that Paradox occurs where Metaphor fails. Heidegger’s Dasein runs logos straight into Paradox in 1843, which is exactly who Jesus was: Paradox. Heidegger was the New Age guru of Nazi Germany, but the simply didn’t have the linguistic register to complete the synthesis. His flirtation with Nazi Racial Theory was his defense of the anti-Christ of the apophatic god of Hitlerism.

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honeyleesblog · 2 years ago

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symbolism black butterfly

1. Dark Butterfly Implications In the Philippines A dark butterfly is much of the time considered to be an indication of misfortune, demise, or setback. In certain societies like the Philippines, it is accepted that dark butterflies are the spirits of the dead. In different societies, they're viewed as signs of approaching catastrophes.

Nonetheless, not all societies view dark butterflies in a negative light. Various societies all over the planet have their own convictions about them.

symbolism black butterfly

2. Dark Butterfly Implications In Focal America A few Local American societies accept that the dark butterfly connotes change. These animals address the pattern of life, passing, and resurrection.

The dark butterfly is likewise connected with the idea of transformation and reestablishment since they go through a total change during their lifetime.

3. Dark Butterfly Implications In Christian Culture In Christianity, the dark butterfly is many times seen as a portrayal of wrongdoing. Dark is related with haziness and insidiousness.

The butterfly is likewise viewed as an image of revival, similar to that of Jesus Christ, on the grounds that the butterfly goes through a course of death and resurrection. It begins as a caterpillar, then a chrysalis or pupa, prior to changing into a wonderful butterfly.

Dark Butterfly Imagery: What's the significance here to See A Dark Butterfly? There are numerous translations of seeing a dark butterfly. In the event that you experience one, it could connote a positive change in your life. Here are the absolute most normal dark butterfly imagery messages:

1. Demise And Resurrection One of the most well-known convictions is that seeing a dark butterfly implies demise. This can be deciphered in more than one way, including the passing of a friend or family member, the conclusion of a friendship, or even the demise of a piece of yourself.

On the off chance that you accept that dark butterflies address demise, you could decipher them as an indication of resurrection and new life. Seeing a dark butterfly could mean something new is going to come into your life.

2. Change Another normal understanding is that seeing a dark butterfly implies change is going to happen. This could be something as critical as an extraordinary occasion or something more unobtrusive, similar to an adjustment of your mind-set or schedule. It could imply that you're going to set out on another excursion or that something in your life is reaching a conclusion.

Assuming you're going through a troublesome time or encountering tremendous changes in your day to day existence, seeing a dark butterfly could imply that things are going to improve. It could address the finish of a troublesome period and the start of something previously unheard-of.

3. Fresh starts A dark butterfly zooming around is in many cases a sign that fresh starts are not too far off. Assuming you've been feeling trapped in a hopeless cycle, this could be a good sign that change is coming your direction.

This could be the beginning of another section in your life or the start of another relationship. Embrace it and see where it takes you!

4. Sorcery And Secret Dark butterflies are in many cases seen as enchanted and baffling animals. Assuming that you see a dark butterfly, it could imply that you're going to leave on a previously unheard-of experience. It could likewise be a suggestion to focus on the little subtleties throughout everyday life and value the excellence in everything around you.

5. Change Dark butterflies can be related with an actual change, for example, shedding pounds or changing your hair. It could likewise show an otherworldly change, like turning out to be more on top of your mystic capacities.

On the off chance that you want to roll out an improvement in your life, this could be the universe's approach to letting you know that now is the ideal time.

6. Direction And Instinct Direction And Instinct Basalt

Some believe dark butterflies to be signals from your instinct. In the event that you've been detecting major areas of strength for some recently, this could be an indication that you want to focus. Your instinct is attempting to direct you towards something, so pay attention to your instinct and see the positive change it brings.

In the event that you're having a lost or unsure outlook on which heading to take in your life, seeing a dark butterfly could imply that you want direction.

This animal is many times seen as an image of direction and security. Believe that the universe has an arrangement for you, and let your instinct lead the way.

7. Sexuality And Want On the off chance that you see a dark butterfly on your night walk or in your fantasies, it could recommend that you're in contact with your exotic side — as in certain societies, dark butterflies are viewed as images of sexuality and want.

Assuming you're drawn to somebody, maybe your sentiments are responded, and time takes advantage of your sexuality and investigates your longings.

8. Image Of Best of Luck You may be in for some amazing good fortune assuming you experience one of these animals. As indicated by certain societies, this implies that your heavenly messenger is looking after you.

9. Get a Message from a Friend or family member One more understanding of dark butterflies is that they're messages from friends and family who have passed on. Assuming you've been contemplating somebody who has passed on, conceivable they're attempting to speak with you from the opposite side. Focus on your fantasies and instinct, as they might be attempting to let you know something significant.

10. Negative Energy And Affiliations Notwithstanding the numerous good implications related with dark butterflies, there are a few negative ones. A few societies accept that dark butterflies convey a lot hazier implications. For instance, a few Local American clans accept that these bugs are the spirits of dead champions who neglected to come to eternity. In Mexico, dark butterflies are frequently connected with death and misfortune.

Assuming you experience one of these bugs, it could represent that something awful is going to occur. Assuming you're encountering some misfortune or feeling down, you could have to roll out certain improvements in your day to day existence.

Set aside some margin for reflection and sort out what's not working for you. Whenever you've rolled out the essential improvements, you'll begin to see positive outcomes.

A Difficult exercise Whether you see a dark butterfly as a positive or pessimistic sign probably relies upon your own convictions and encounters. Recall that these animals can address both the light and dim parts of life. As a rule, they act as a wake up call that both great and terrible times will travel every which way.

By the day's end, it ultimately depends on you to conclude how a dark butterfly affects you. Assuming you end up attracted to these animals, find opportunity to look further into their set of experiences and folklore. You might be shocked by what you find.

Different Dark Butterfly Species And Their Implications While all dark butterflies convey comparable implications, there are a few distinctions between animal types. The following are a couple of the most regularly seen dark butterflies and what they address:

1. Dark Swallowtail Butterflies Meaning Dark Swallowtail Butterflies Meaning Basalt

The dark swallowtail butterfly is effectively conspicuous thanks to its enormous size and dark and yellow markings on its wings.

They represent change, change, and fresh starts. Assuming that you see one of these butterflies, it could be an indication that you are going to set out on another excursion in your life.

2. Pipevine Swallowtail Butterflies Meaning Pipevine Swallowtail Butterflies Meaning Basalt

Delightful and novel, pipevine swallowtail butterflies are dark with blue and white markings. They are an image of solidarity and persistence. A locating could mean you are going to confront a test in your life. In any case, relax — you have the solidarity to defeat whatever comes your direction.

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sgt-morgan · 2 years ago

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Guessing Game 🦯

Summary: You and Matt have a little inside joke, turns out you’re hella right

Warnings: AFAB and female identifying reader, Mentions of g!ns, probably blasphemy, Matt’s dangerously beautiful ass. None really, v fluffy.

A/N: This is for all you girlies still waiting for Matt to show his face in She-Hulk. I’ll fill your thirst void. We are gonna get there 2gether I swear.

Pt.2 Robin Bites Back.

Pt.3 The Test

DD Masterlist

“Jesus Christ Matt!” You exclaim, dropping crumbs all over the court documents you had been diligently going over for the past forty five minutes. When your boss (technically) and the man of your dreams walked in with the biggest bruise you’d ever seen, you honestly forgot they were there.

“Blasphemy, really? Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” he chuckled as you rushed over to check him over for more injuries, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart from the nickname.

“If Jesus could see you, he’d take his own name in vain.” Matt huffed out a laugh at that, as you gently pressed a finger to the bruise. He hissed in pain, and you hissed back in sympathy. “Sorry, What happened?”

“I got in a really gnarly bar fight.” Matt pursed his lips and flexed his-surprisingly-muscular arm. You rolled your eyes and smacked his bicep, He gave an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ And rubbed his arm with a frown. Or so you thought, in reality, there was actually a pretty nasty knife wound there from the same asshole who got his face. He got his injuries fending off a mugging just outside Josie’s.

“Haha Murdock, no way some drunk asshole is gonna punch a blind guy, nobody is that stupid.” Matt could tell you were rolling your eyes, and he smirked.

“What, don’t think I could win a fight? Is it cause I’m blind?” He grinned wolfishly and you flopped back down in your desk chair.

“No Mathew, I’ve seen you move, I bet you take after your dad. Got some sort of illegal fight ring I should know about?” You brushed the crumbs from your papers and started to work again.

“Ah, yeah you caught me sweetheart. Got a fight ring stashed in the old Fogwell’s building. It’s like poetic Justice.” He laughs, sitting opposite you and pulling his own work from his brief case. You laugh and shake your head. God, he loved that sound.

“Yeah, alright wise guy, when are you gonna tell me the truth huh? I’ll bet you’re that man in the black mask, ah what’s his name… OH! Daredevil!” You snapped your fingers and chuckled again, not noticing Matt’s whole body go rigid in panic. He listens to your heart beat for any sighs you weren’t joking, but only found it’s normal steady pace.

“Yeah, I’m secretly a ninja for sure.” He chuckled stiffly, trying to play it off. Luckily, you were already wrapped up in your work, and didn’t even notice the slight flop sweat that ghosted over his brow.

“Alright DD, chop chop. Gotta make sure your day job still pays the bills.” You mumbled, and how right you were.

Matt kept coming to work with bruises, and you kept making jokes about them. He knew you made them because you worried, and if he could joke about it, you figured he was fine. He loved that about you, you had the ability to bring levity to any situation. He was grateful for it. What he was not grateful for, was how close those jokes sometimes hit to the truth.

“Woah! What happened this time DD? Catch that mugger?”

“Whoa there Devilman! You and Spider-Man catch a cat burglar?”

“Jeez man without fear, you’d think with skills like that they would have made you an avenger already.”

Matt laughed at every single one, but that Spider-Man one was just uncanny. Sure, it was a guy robbing a bodega, but it was close enough. You kept up the running gag, and it was honestly surprising Foggy and Karen had never heard you. One day though, you almost caught on to how right you were because his dumb friends were no good with subtlety.

You, Foggy, and Karen all happened to be in the break room one morning, when Matt stumbled in after a rough night. “Hello Daredevil, you give somebody the horns last night?” You said it with such serious nonchalance, that Karen gasped and Foggy spit his coffee across the room. Matt smacked a hand to his forehead and just pictured the cartoonish shock on his friends faces, conjuring memories of Looney Tunes and Scooby-Doo. You turned to look, and Matt made silencing motions behind your back to a wide eyed Foggy and Karen, who were gaping in horror at your joke. “Jeez guys! It was just a joke, right Matty?” You turned just as Matt stoped his wild gestures and he laughed, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“Yeah guys, what. You really think I’m Daredevil or something?” He laughed awkwardly, and Foggy and Karen caught on.

“Oh! Haha! No! Of course not!” Foggy started chuckling awkwardly, and Karen joined him.

“Yeah! Good one!” Karen giggled almost manically, but you didn’t notice, too busy obliviously cleaning up Foggy’s spit take. It was moments like these that Matt was glad that you were a bit of a social ditz.

When the shock wore off, Karen and Foggy found your little inside joke to be hysterical. They joined in on your little jokes as well, cracking off some really good ones, much to your delight.

“Jeez buddy,” you started one morning. “Have a rough evening being Justice?”

Foggy cackled and did a growly Batman voice. “I am Justice, I am vengeance, IM BATMAN!” You laughed and he grinned. Making you laugh was quickly becoming a competition in the office, and by god was he determined to win.

Karen was not to be beat either, she was getting in some real zingers herself.

“Good lord Mathew! Tell the criminals of the Kitchen to stop damaging the goods!” You grimaced at the cut on his cheek.

“You think my face is the goods?” He grinned waggling his eyebrows to an empty corner and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not the criminals that need to take a break,” Karen scoffed, “It’s all that pent up Catholic guilt.”

You cackle and Karen grinned. You however, not to be beat in this battle of wits, got the last laugh. “You know Karen? I think you’re right! I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t piss holy water.” Matt looked like a wet cat, but Foggy and Karen had tears in their eyes.

Then of course there was the Christmas Sweater incident. “What’s that?” You asked, watching Matt stuff a red piece of clothing back into a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Matt tilted his head with a frown, like he always did when he was curious about something. You did what you always did when Matt did this and kissed his up turned cheek and patted it twice. “My sweater for the holiday party.”

“A sweater devil boy? for the holiday party at Josie’s?” You nodded with satisfaction. “The one we planned with Karen and Foggy not three weeks ago?”

“The very same,” Matt nodded, “Yes. We’re also playing Secret Santa. I’ve already got a gift for my pick.” He grinned.

“Good boy!” you grinned and Matt preened, “I’ve got mine as well. Now all we have to do is turn up in one piece, think you can manage Devilman?”

“Only for you.” Matt grinned and he could feel the heat of the blush rising in your cheeks, hear the way your heart rate stuttered at his flirting.

“Cheeky,” you chuckled, and set down the paperwork you copied over to Braille for him with two pats to his right hand. Your little substitute for a wink. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to find some mistletoe.”

The fabled holiday party came, and Matt did indeed manage to get to Josie’s without a scrape. He could hear you and the other’s whispering in your booth and grinned. He got to your table and you gasped.

“Mathew Murdock, where did you find such ghastly reindeer ears!?” You cackled.

“Peter got them for me, I asked him to pick up my secret Santa gift and he brought these along with him.” He shrugged with his roguish lopsided grin that made your insides turn to jello.

“Well they’re awful, I must have a pair.” You laughed, scooting to make more room for your friend, but first he folded up his cane, and pulled off his jacket revealing his great secret. “MATHEW MEREDITH MURDOCK!” You exclaimed with uncontrollable mirth, Foggy laughed at your presumed and nonsensical middle name. “What is that!?” Pulled over his signature too-tight button up, was a red sweater with holiday trimmings that read ‘IM NOT DAREDEVIL’ in bold print. He smiled in victory as he heard the laughter from his table of friends. Could practically taste your tears of joy, heard the wheezing, and the way you all struggled to catch your breath.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pee myself.” You chortled, clinging to his arm and wiping your tears. Foggy was staring at the thing in shock, and Karen was trying (and failing) to hold back her giggles. He had beaten you all at your own game. “Mathew Murdock, I could kiss you.”

“Please do!” Matt laughed, finally plopping into the empty seat beside you. You smacked his arm and he winked.

“Oh god, let’s start drinking. I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even exchanged gifts.” You sighed with a laugh.

You all laughed, and drank, and sang Holiday tunes until midnight. You also exchanged your gifts. Mostly joke things. Matt bought Karen a ‘half cup’ mug, that was like a sawed off mug with a flat back. “So you can cut back on the caffeine!” He had chuckled. Karen bought Foggy a pack of un-clickable pens, and a rock’n’roll Santa tie. “There, now I won’t strangle you when you play with the pens in your office, no noise!” Foggy bought you a pet rock for your desk, that had little tiny devil horns and google eyes, “you needed a friend,” he grinned, “and what better friend than your very own deskdevil?” You chuckled as well, pulling out the last gift of the night and passed it to Matt, a devil shaped re-freezeable ice pack. “So you can ice your face!” Matt laughed heartily and thanked you, chuckling as you helped him run his hands over the cartoonish horns, and described the color.

When the evening came to a close, Matt left around an hour before you all did, claiming he had court documents he needed to sign and return to a client by tomorrow. Foggy and Karen nodded, and you went with it because you didn’t know the man’s work load, and frankly you were burgeoning on too drunk to care. You had another round of shots, and then the rest of you left. You parted ways with a very inebriated Karen and Foggy at the corner, and headed back to your apartment (also very inebriated). About halfway to your apartment, you got a very uneasy feeling, as if someone was following you. You knew you should have called Matt to come get you.

You kept steady down the alley way, hoping that by subtly walking faster, you’d get back into the streetlights quicker so whoever it was, if there even was someone, would let you go without a fuss. What you didn’t realize, was that when you’re as drunk as you are, subtly speeding up announced itself as a sprint. Then you felt hands jerk you back suddenly, one over your mouth and one jammed something that felt suspiciously like a gun into your back.

“Gimmie the bag and nobody gets hurt.” A voice slurs from behind you. You raise your hands and drop the bag, congratulating yourself mentally for putting your wallet in your front pocket with your phone earlier. You hope that if he takes the bag and you run fast enough, he won’t notice. Thank god it’s just one du-

“Now empty your pockets!” Well, shit. That’s no good. You should have known that shitty drunk assholes traveled in packs. That way, if shit head numero uno forgets, shithead two will inevitably pick up the slack, that’s street slime 101. “You hear me bitch? Pockets!” Shithead number two reaches for your front pocket when-

THWACK!

Oh Merry FUCKING Christmas to you, a vigilante, now shithead one is gonna be jumpy and you’re gonna bleed out in an alleyway from an overzealous trigger finger. God has a sick sense of humor after all, you bet it’s Daredevil, that would REALLY prove God to be a comedian.

“I know you don’t have a gun, let the girl go.” A blur of motion and then in all his glory, the Daredevil. (Because of fucking course.)

“H-how do you know?” Shit bag squirms and grasps you tighter. You roll your eyes, this is gonna take all night, and all you wanna do is drink another beer and imagine Matt’s ass in the new suit you helped him buy, you’re over it. You strike while he’s distracted. “I could have a g-OOF!” You stomp on sleezebag’s foot and head but him in the nose. Yikes, that shit hurt, how do these super dorks do it. Once you were released, you ran behind Daredevil and let him finish knocking the guy out. From behind though, you noticed something very strange. When he finally turned to you, you voiced your assumption.

“You got a familiar ass.” You slurred, scrunching your brow. Daredevil let out a bewildered chuckle.

“Oh? And what might a familiar ass look like?” Matt shook his head, picking your bag up from the sidewalk with a breathy chuckle. You’re drunk, surely you won’t figure it out.

“Peachy, round, hot, very uhhh-“ he nodded and put your bag back on your shoulder, cocking his head to the side with a grin. Just like- “LAWYERLY! OH MY GOD! M-“ he clapped a hand over your mouth shushing you, you squealed and pointed and flailed around.

“Sh! Yes! Baby, you called it! You were right!” He shushed frantically pulling you into the darkened alleyway again. He was stunned, you really managed to figure it out. You recognized him… by his ass. He’s never gonna let you live this down, at least, if you live through this. You locked his palm and he let go of you with a disgusted sound.

When he finally released your mouth you whisper yelled. “Oh my god!? I was right!? Holy shit! You’re! And then I’m- and god! I don’t know where your hands have been DD ew! Gross!” You made spitting noises and blew raspberries, and then went to start shouting again, he frantically shushed you long enough to get you to listen.

“Yes! You’re very clever! Let’s get you home yeah?” He nodded slowly, steering you in the direction of your apartment. He got you there in relative silence, keeping you occupied by jumping from building to building following you. You giggled when he would perch on the rooftops, laughing about him being a ‘poser’ or as ‘blind as a bat’, leading you to sing a drunken rendition of Meatloaf’s bat out of hell much to his amusement and frustration. He had honestly never been more endeared to you, you were taking this whole vigilante thing like a champ, he wondered faintly if it was the booze, but now was not the time. It was slow going, but you made it. He climbed through the window you opened once you got in, and flipped on your couch. To his shock, you plopped into his lap. “Hey there sweet pea!” He laughed, curling his arms around you. Your drunken stupor made you affectionate, he would file that away for later.

“Wow Matty! You’re a hero!” You crow, pulling his mask from his head with a flourish and plopping it on your coffee table. “You got horns and everything! We gotta talk! I know you’re really blind, cause I switched all your socks with My Little Pony socks that one time and you didn’t see,” Matt spluttered at this, but you shushed him with your fingers before he could get more details. “Also, who would go through all the trouble of learning Braille if they were lying. Psh- I wouldn’t for sure! So you gotta have like super smell, or touch, or hearing, or something! Oh Jeez! Super smell! I gotta smell like Josie’s! And that smells real bad! I’m sorry!” You tried to get up and almost fell, so Matt pulled you back onto his lap.

“I do have all those things,” he chuckled, pushing your hair from your face, brown eyes vacantly moving around the room. “But you always smell good! The gross is there, the trash cans outside your building, Josie’s, the homeless robber, but overtop of all that is your skin, and your perfume, and coffee.” He scrunched his nose adorably and you coo and stroke it with a finger.

“Oh Matty, that’s so nice!” You sniffle, “you’re really good at flipping on stuff, are you a ninja?” She gasps, whispering conspiratorially.

“No,” he whispers back, “but my dad was a boxer, and I trained with a guy called stick.” He answered all of the questions you came up with and held you in his lap, he wished that he could live in this moment forever. He wished that he could hold you like this all the time; breathing in your shampoo and talking with you about his life. It was a balm to his aching heart, and a real relief to no longer be lying to the woman he suspected more and more would be his forever.

“Wow Matty, you’re so cool.” You sighed, burrowing into his suit and coiling around him tightly. “I was right all along! You really are Daredevil! Foggy and Karen knew! They suck ass! You should have told me you big meanie, I coulda been helping! I could be your sidekick!” He nodded and chuckled as you start to nod off, muttering about Batman and Robin.

“Yeah, yeah honey, you can be my Robin.” He grinned, kissing your hair.

“Well, you told me a secret, now I gotta tell you one!” You jolted awake suddenly with urgency, and leaned into his ear. “I think you’re really hot, and I wanna kiss you all the time.” You then leaned back and put your finger over your lips tapping the back of his hand twice. “Ok! That’s all! Night Matty!”

Matt sat frozen in shock as you stood, he could feel the currents shifting, hear the soft clothing rustle against your skin as you got undressed and flopped onto your bed. Within seconds you were snoring, and Matt was beaming. He couldn’t believe it, you liked him after all, he’d see how you felt sober. The Daredevil thing is fun for now, but when you’re sober he didn’t know how true that would be.

In the morning, you awoke with a groan, your head aches and you felt like you’d been hit by a bus. Then you remembered you’r really hit boss is a vigilante, and you suddenly felt very awake. You turned your head to check the time, and saw that Matt had left you a glass of water, some Tylenol, and had recorded a voicemail on your phone, his name blinking on your screen over and over. You took the medicine and listened to it with nervous jitters, remembering the nights revelations.

“Hey sweet stuff, I left you some meds, figured you’d be pretty worn out. When you wake up, shoot me a text and we can go get some food, and I’ll fill you in on all the other stuff. If you need anything, let me know. Since you wanna kiss me all the time, you can pay me with those, I hear Daredevil loves being paid in affection. Talk to you soon, bye.”

You stood there again, shocked but grinning. Matt liked you, and now you knew it, but most importantly, you screeched into your empty apartment…

“I WAS RIGHT!”

The sequel

#matt murdock au #marvel's daredevil #matty boy #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagines #netflix daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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llycaons · 2 years ago

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clj ep15

WHAT

dang, more changheng lwj moments. rip to him

the way he’s immediately empathetic to her plight is very sweet, and I love this conversation they have. shanque resolved to be honest and trustworthy and loyal, but I don’t think very well of him because he’s complicit in all the terrible things his master’s done. jieli isn’t really a great person either, but she’s cunning and not ashamed of using it to survive. they clearly don’t see eye to eye but their conversation was interesting, def illuminating. and I like how the show doesn’t really take a stance. not to say ‘lying is always bad, shame on you!’ or ‘you’re a terrible person for being complicit in your master’s crimes’ but rather, they each responded to a terrible situation in their own way

oh jesus christ

HOW DOES SHE KNOW THAT. when did he tell her?!

jieli’s lore dump and ancient one-of-a-kind treasure seem just a little too convenient, but hey, maybe it’s real

oh cute outfit for lxh here

SICK WHIP

lwj did the floating entrance better 🙄 whatever I guess it’s good he’s here to save her

this is cool because maybe lxh and dfqc can maybe establish a relationship outside of the onesided domination he has over her.

girl that is literally not true, he imprisoned you and starved you and verbally abused you and made it too cold for you to sleep

oh fuck come on

ugh he always looks so good

AND THIS MIND TRAP MATCHES HIS CLOTHES

this is so funny. giant face floating out of the mind trap

oh my god she actually repaired the thing. I ind of thought she couldn’t

see THIS is more of the kind of acting I want to see from her. this subtlety, this carefully controlled fear - this is good stuff!

okay if this was just happening in the beginning, or if it only happened a few times, then I’d be able to brush it off but we’re almost in the middle of the series and I’m kind of worried they actually want us to see a man’s destructively violent temper and need to control a woman as romantic. sure fucking hope note but uh. that’s what it looks like now

I just want lxh to have some gd agency in this relationship and I want her to be on equal footing with dfqc and I want him to treat her better. like, we’ve been getting better but 15 straight episodes of this is exhausting, especially when the relationship seemingly develops at a snail’s pace

this can’t go wrong

GIRL WHY ARE YOU APOLOGIZING!! this drives me crazy like this man is actively abusive to her and talks down to her constantly and somehow she’s the one saying sorry here?!

YESS MORE OF THIS. STAND YOUR GROUND

DID HE GO AND GET MAD AND TAKE HER BED. INSANE

I trust my mutuals who say this ends well and there are parts I really like about this show so I’m still white-knuckling through it but it’s hard to swallow “sweet innocent woman teaches abusive man about feelings and it’s fine because they will be in love and also being controlling is romantic I guess’ for hours on end. good episode! a lot happened! but oh my GOD how do people stand this

#*looks at all the shows I'm watching right now" why is riverdale the one with the most satisfying and healthy romances right now #clj lb

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zenjestrr · 2 years ago

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(Bayo 3 ending opinions; wall of text spoilers I just need to vent)

god the more I think about the ending and the story in general the more shit it becomes. whyyyyy did they fuck with Luka like that. The fact that they retconned his motivation from being "my father was murdered by the supernatural so I devoted my life to finding and exposing the truth of the supernatural" to "lol I'm secretly a fairy werewolf and the reason I got into journalism is because I hear voices in my head". The fact that Luka, WITH NO TRAINING JUST RAW INNATE TALENT in his furry form, can overpower BAYONETTA, a literal godslayer and the strongest witch in the universe, is RIDICULOUS. The fact that they OUT OF NOWHERE made Bayonetta be actually in LOVE with Luka all this time??? HUUUUHHHH??? also I hate how Bayo 3 Bayo is simultaneously the most powerful Bayonetta and also the weakest like...this bitch can literally slow down time ON COMMAND. the only reason Witch Time only activates on close dodges in gameplay is because she's literally toying with her enemies. Bayonetta (and Jeanne tbh) got hit WAYYY too much in the cutscenes. In the past she only ever got hit if you, as a player, fucked up or against the literal creators of the universe in cutscenes. Also they...do not explain what the fuck the enemies are or whomst the fuck the main antagonist is. They just say "oh hey, these are Homunculi" or "oh hey this is Singularity, the big bad" and just leave it at that. also hate how they kill off every alternate Bayo and none of the Bayonettas (except for the Egyptian Bayo, she's the only one with any "development") INCLUDING THE BAYO WE PLAY AS has like...no character. completely one dimensional. I saw the Viola twist before the game came out. She's Bayo and Luka's daughter. The Bayo part was obvious pre-release, the Luka thing was obvious in her third/fourth cutscene. She also flat out tells us that Luka is the fairy werewolf before it's officially revealed because the writing in this game has the subtlety of a nuke. this game's story is ass. absolutely trash. the gameplay and music are the only things saving it and even then. Bayonetta never had an AMAZING story but it was inoffensive, campy fun. Bayo 3's story is just bad and it's ending is ATROCIOUS. because they kill off Bayonetta and Jeanne (and Luka but no one cares) and leave Viola alive, making her the obvious successor to the series which is like....bro there are better ways to set up your lesbian Nero game. also while I love the Sin Ritual parts of the game (the ones where she pulls her heart out and recites a super long Enochian chant), they seem to have no real cost? like...this bitch is LITERALLY tearing her heart out of her chest and then she just puts it back like nothing happened? this looks like something that should be a last resort not a chapter ending finishing move she pulls off every hour. I will say these parts are fire tho. Sin Gomorrah section was excellent. Queen Butterfly section was FANTASTIC. The Phantom section was very cool. Baal's section was MY FAVORITE of all of them. loved it. but jesus christ the writing was booty cheeks. it was terrible.

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restapesta · 4 years ago

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gossip never ends

Mickey Milkovich simply just showed up one day at the Old Army, tattoos on his knuckles and a scowl on his face. Lola couldn't help but be intrigued -- nobody lasts here long enough to pique her interest, but there was something special about this guy. The gossip spreads like wildfire, but Mickey's something else altogether -- it's just a matter of time before Lola and her friends figured out why.

OR: How Mickey's coworkers found out about who Mickey really was back in season 10 -- this is more of an outlook on Mickey and his feelings throughout season 10 and how it reflected on his job and altogether his demeanor.

This is based on a prompt by @whatwouldmickeydo which was also even more explored by one of my favorite Gallavich accounts on Tumblr @ianandmickeygallavich -- so, I simply just worked through what they had already created. I hope they don't mind I used their prompt and this is dedicated to both of them! Enjoy!

words: 5.3k

The gossip began almost the exact moment Mickey was introduced to the three workers by the manager.

The Old Army staff was not a stranger to new workers coming and going, some people sticking around longer, working for a couple of months without stop, maybe even sticking around for a full-time position; some just passing through while on trial-basis, failing to meet the manager's demands and simply moving on to find better or more fitting employment -- but the sight of Mickey Milkovich was definitely not something, Lola thought, anybody, not just the curious employees, was used to.

Lola fell into the group of people who had been working at the store for ages now, starting years ago and still sticking around now, subsequently being present for all the biggest changes made to and within the popular store. She saw the interior change, the managers shift, the employees getting hired and fired -- she saw it all. It couldn't be said for many people. Honestly, only three members of the Old Army staff had actually been working full-time here, while everybody else was just a passing face.

She was so used to seeing new faces that it simply did not phase her anymore -- Lola had her own stable position in the store; she had her colleagues which she got along with, and she never paid much attention to the newbies once they came into the store. She knew it was almost always just for a short while, basically until they made a mistake while working and got politely declined for the position, so she usually just remained civil, not engaging in much mingling or bonding -- it wouldn't last anyway.

The staff change happened way too often, especially with security. The store management had no idea how to pick the right person for the job -- they either always chose the gangly, skinny types; the ones who couldn't defend others or themselves from a burglar if their life depended on it, or they chose the fatties who had a donut too many during their break and couldn't chase ten feet after the culprit.

Still, this guy -- this new, weirdly interesting guy -- seemed promising.

Lola had no idea where they managed to find him -- he was kinda hot, and definitely in really good shape with thighs and calves that could probably kill if they wanted to. He seemed crude and unapproachable, and the brooding, mysterious attitude definitely didn't quench anybody's curiosity as to where the hell he came from and how the hell they managed to find him of all the people in the world. A scowl was constantly etched on the newcomer's face -- not just when he was being introduced to the staff by the manager, as Lola thought would be the case -- but literally at every single given moment of the workday.

There were only rare moments Lola and the others saw him smile -- usually every single one of those moments being when he was texting someone during his break, or when he was coming back from having lunch with someone at the food court. Not that anyone would dare ask who, although they definitely speculated.

Mickey was the type of guy Lola was interested in making friends with. She approached him once during their shared shift -- usually, she wouldn't even bother, seeing how these guards come and go, but this one really piqued her interest -- trying to figure out who he was, where he came from, what he was doing here. Was he single? She needed to know for her lady friend considering how he was most definitely a sight for sore eyes.

It came as somewhat a surprise when he gave off clipped answers to her questions, most of them not even answering.

"Did you always work security?" She'd ask with a bright smile.

"You could say that."

Silence.

"How long are you planning on staying with us?" Trial-basis or undefined employment? Lola wondered silently.

"Until Larry finds me a better job."

Silence.

"Who?"

Silence. And then a quick, "Never mind."

Lola had officially given up on her efforts to befriend and find out more about the man once Mickey gave her a sharp, pointed stare after she pointed out he didn't have a ring on his finger, hoping he would reveal his relationship status to her.

She most certainly wasn't that lucky, and she almost shat her pants at the murderous expression on his face. She didn't ask again.

The others tried to pry information out of Mickey too, but they certainly lacked the subtlety Lola had. She honestly couldn't say she was the most discreet person in the world, but she was in the Old Army, considering how she found herself working with the two most non-discreet people in the world. Lola was upfront too -- let's not get that wrong.

But at least she didn't outright ask him if he was in a gang like Jeremy did.

"I wanted to know if the tattoos were gang symbols! They freaked me out!" The skinny twenty-year-old replied when the other workers gaped at him with wide eyes.

Jenna shook her head. "Dude, you can't just ask a guy if he was in a gang."

He wouldn't reveal his age, let alone his gang status if he had one, Lola scolded Jeremy mentally. The guy was as open as a seashell -- you could try and pry it open to see if it had a pearl inside, but you'll most likely fail and, to be honest, probably get pinched in the process, if not careful. It was perhaps best not to even try or, if you did, to proceed with extreme caution. A bunch of seashells didn't even have pearls in them anyway, so it'd all be useless in the end.

It only took a week for the staff to find out how Mickey managed to find himself here at Old Army out of all the possible places in the world. It was a shock, to say the least.

One morning, the revelation came when Larry Seaver showed up to the store, dressed in a nice suit and tie, wearing his casual, perky smile. He asked for the manager and had greeted Mickey immediately once he laid eyes on the man. Larry approached him as Jeremy went to get the manager, placing a firm hand on Mickey's shoulder, smiling widely at him.

Lola and Jenna weren't snooping, but they did manage to overhear Larry asking Mickey if he enjoyed working here; if everything was going well; if he was staying out of trouble -- a question that certainly didn't help stop the gossip -- and if he settled in home nicely.

Mickey responded to most of his questions with short, non-descriptive answers, but not with any malice or disdain. He answered them as if he had to, putting an emphasis on the "I'm not getting into any trouble, don't worry Mr. Cheery," making Lola wonder why the question even needed to be posed.

When the manager finally showed up, greeting the man happily, Larry followed him to his office, leaving the others to get back to the customers -- and some to get back to stopping crime. It was only when Larry Seaver left that Jenna shouted, "Oh my God, he's a parole officer!" at the other two workers while drinking coffee in the break room.

"He's a what?" Jeremy asked, slightly confused.

"A parole officer! I heard him talking to the manager about Mickey and how he's settling in. Mickey is a parolee!"

"Jesus Christ, I knew it! And you told me I shouldn't be scared." Jeremy answered with a sullen look, exaggerating a shudder.

Lola quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "Were you eavesdropping?" She was more amused than surprised if she was honest.

Jenna shook her head at Lola in exasperation. "So not the point. Lola, the guy went to prison!"

"We should all just quit now," Jeremy added.

"Come on, you big baby. The guy keeps to himself. You have literally nothing to be scared of." Lola was rolling her eyes at the man, slightly annoyed at the comments.

It didn't surprise her Mickey was here on parole -- it didn't surprise her he was in prison at all. He seemed like the type, not just because of his sullen look and crude knuckle tattoos. It also had a lot to do with the way he carried himself as if the entire world was against him and he needed to protect himself from the inevitable upcoming battle. It was probably why he never spoke to anybody, why he never had coffee with them, and why he seemed to avoid human contact at all possible times. It was also, now, very much obvious why he was so good at guarding the store -- it takes a criminal to catch a criminal, she guessed.

Honestly, it all just made him more interesting.

"I kind of think it's hot," Jenna admitted sheepishly.

Jeremy's eyes bulged out. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head, smiling like a teenage girl. "He's dark, brooding, mysterious. And he's got a really nice ass."

Lola laughed at her friend and at Jeremy's horrified expression. "You should go flirt with him. Maybe you'll be able to figure out if he's single or not." She was only partly joking. Jenna probably didn't need a repeat of what Lola had gone through.

She sighed sadly. "A guy like that is not single."

"Yeah, sure. An ex-con definitely isn't single and is probably in an extremely committed relationship with somebody who loves him for who he is. And that same ex-con guy totally loves somebody back with his whole, entire heart." Jeremy quipped sarcastically and Jenna pinched his bicep in response.

"Love is love, asshole. People murder for love."

Jeremy nodded in response. "Exactly. That's probably why he was in prison."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You know what? Unlike Jeremy here, I'm not a pussy. I'm gonna go talk to him."

Lola's eyes widened in response and she smiled widely. If anyone would take the bullet for the team, it'd be Jenna. "You go, girl! Get him. Just make sure to be subtle about it"

Jeremy and Lola watched as Jenna went up to Mickey who was standing next to the Old Army store entrance, looking as bored and uninterested as ever. When he saw Jenna approaching, he grimaced, obviously preparing himself for the confrontation.

Jeremy and Lola locked eyes as Jenna began to audibly flirt with Mickey. They couldn't hear everything she was saying from where they were eavesdropping but they didn't hear Mickey even speak. Based on the disappointed look on Jenna's face when she walked into the break room again, they didn't think it went that well.

"So?" Lola inquired hopefully.

Jenna shook her head. "Completely uninterested. I even made my boobs look bigger in this shirt. Didn't work, obviously."

"What'd he say?" Lola probed deeper.

"Well, I asked where he lived, where he used to work, if he was settling in nicely -- and he just kind of hummed."

"Hummed?"

"He barely even answered the questions."

"Maybe he's gay and in a committed relationship with a dude," Jeremy added sarcastically, once again. "Maybe I should go up and flirt with him instead. See if it works for me."

Jenna rolled her eyes at Jeremy's sarcasm. "You're too big of a pussy to do it. Plus he's probably not gay."

Jeremy didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he just smiled. "Whatever you say, Jenny. Oh, by the way -- I totally am."

Mickey never spent his break with the others. In fact, he was either sitting outside the store, drinking Pinkberry and messing around with his phone, or he was at the food court, presumably meeting somebody for lunch. Lola was dying to know who, but she never dared to ask or to check, although it would have been so easy.

The curiosity extended out of the workplace as well -- Jenna, Lola, and Jeremy had a group chat. It was, at first, formed as a work chat, purely for announcements and work hours, but as time passed -- and as the employees and employers changed -- it evolved into something much more. Now, it was their main gossiping media.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (9:56 PM): I can't find him anywhere on social media.

JEREMY (9:58 PM): You're obsessed.

LOLA (9:58 PM): Fuck off, Jeremy.

JENNA (10:03 PM): There are a bunch of articles about him escaping prison!!!!!!!!!

LOLA (10:04 PM): NO SHIT

LOLA (10:04 PM): LINK NOW

LOLA (10:04 PM): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JENNA (10:06 PM): https://images.app.goo.gl/rzDzCogf1H84QD78A

JENNA (10:06 PM): HEHAGDJADGAIGDAJFGAJFGAJFGA

LOLA (10:08 PM): oh my god

JENNA (10:08 PM): I KNOW

JEREMY (10:07 PM): ya'll are crazy

JENNA (10:08 PM): Is it bad it just makes me even more attracted to him??????

JEREMY (10:09 PM): yes.

LOLA (10:09 PM): NO!

LOLA (10:10 PM): Jenna, same.

JEREMY (10:11 PM): I have a psych ward to recommend you to. Hold up.

JENNA (10:11 PM): Jeremy, stfu

*JEREMY has left the chat*

LOLA (10:12 PM): You wanna add him back in or should I?

JENNA (10:12 PM): Neither.

JENNA (10:12 PM): Let him suffer.

The gossiping continued for a while. It didn't honestly seem like it would stop at all, and nobody really seemed inclined to put an end to the wildfire gossip that spread through the entire Old Army staff. Not that anyone cared much, either, if they were being completely honest.

One day, though, the Mickey who was always grumpy and never without a scowl seemed particularly furious.

He spoke to no one, he didn't check his phone at all, which was a rare occurrence and almost never happened -- he was usually glued to the thing, always texting someone -- and he basically looked like he was ready to kill the next person who dared steal something from the store.

"Anyone wanna ask what crawled up his ass and died?" Jenna asked lowly, observing Mickey from where she and Lola stood behind the cash register. Jeremy hung around in the back, angry that they still hadn't added him back to the group chat.

Lola simply grimaced. "I guess we've been dealing with happy Mickey all this time."

Jeremy pretended not to pay much attention to them, very much bitter. He just muttered, as a side note, loud enough to get even Mickey's attention, "Yo, I guess they found who killed that parole officer."

That piqued Lola's interest. The murder was all over the news the day before -- a parole officer named Paula had been thrown out the window -- and Lola didn't expect them to have found the killer so soon.

"Already?" She wondered, out loud.

"Who is it?" Jenna asked.

"Some ex of hers -- Shelly, I think. They arrested her yesterday."

Lola released a sigh. "That's some good news. Now she can't hurt anybody else." She mentally applauded the police for the good and quick work.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mickey was listening in to their conversation. She could have sworn she heard him snort when she muttered the last part, the one about it being good news. She saw an opening, and when Lola began to open her mouth and try and include him in the conversation, he had already turned around and left to stand back at his regular spot, expression sullen, pretending as if he never even cared to listen in after all.

Mickey was gone all of a sudden one day -- as the manager had told them briefly, on paid leave. He didn't reveal why or when he'd be coming back, only saying how Mickey had something important come up, and that he'd eventually be back. He didn't seem to be aggravated while talking about Mickey, so Lola guessed he didn't get fired, nor that he was being tested again for his position -- he had honestly been doing great. Better than the ones before him, at least.

Lola was actually somewhat shocked. She was also slightly disappointed he didn't tell her.

Mickey had actually started opening up a little -- not much (when she said little she meant very little) -- but he was finally communicating with them during their shift together, something he most certainly hadn't even tried to do, no matter how hard they tried to push. He also seemed happier, coming in one morning looking the happiest Lola had ever seen him.

It was the first day Mickey made actual conversation with her -- about the ugly clothes in the store, nevertheless -- and she genuinely was starting to like him.

"Maybe he likes you," Jenna told her after noticing them talking.

Lola blushed. "Probably not."

Jeremy snorted and both women turned towards him. "He's probably more attracted to me than you." He muttered absentmindedly while scrolling through his phone.

"Still sticking to the gay theory?" Jenna asked pointedly.

"I may not be dark, brooding, and mysterious, but my gaydar is on point. At first, I was skeptical, but he rocks that pink pastel shirt a little too well." He said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Jenna and Lola shared a look before both rolling their eyes.

"Let's hope he asks you out." Jenna finished and Lola blushed even more. Stupid crush. Jeremy snorted.

She was a little disappointed he was gone but his step-in was a cute guy and the gossip between her, Jeremy, and Jenna was endless -- Jenna and Lola came up with different theories as to where he was which all ranged from family emergencies to crazy prison breaks -- Jeremy would simply roll their eyes at them whenever a new theory came up.

When Mickey came back a couple of days later, it seemed as if he had a spring in his step. For the first time in all the time Lola had known him, instead of a scowl, there was a smile present on his face.

"Holy shit, he's smiling." Jenna pointed out incredulously, and Lola simply nodded shell-shocked. He had a beautiful smile.

It was even weirder when he greeted them when he walked into the store, uttering a simple, "Hey" which neither woman expected.

"So, that's happy Mickey," Lola said under her breath. "Good to know."

The sudden chirpiness didn't disappear throughout his entire shift and Lola began to wonder what type of vacation he had gone on to be this happy. She needed to ask him -- if it could take the stick out of his ass, then it could definitely make her feel like she was in heaven.

The answer came shortly after.

"He's got a ring on his finger."

"What?" Lola and Jenna exclaimed simultaneously, looking at Jeremy like he was crazy.

"The hell are you talking about?" Jenna asked, glancing between Jeremy and Mickey, inconspicuously trying to catch a glimpse of Mickey's hand.

"He's married, guys. He probably got married while he was away. There is a golden band on his ring finger."

Lola and Jenna were surprised they missed it. The ring shone brightly on his left hand, reflecting the shitty lighting of the Old Army store. It looked beautiful and, somehow, it made him look complete. She didn't even realize something was missing until it was there, staring straight at them. That's what the wedding ring seemed like -- a piece of Mickey they were all simply missing. Something that let them know that there was somebody in his life, a single person, who had his heart -- a person who managed to pry open the shell and find the pearl. Perhaps the process was painless; perhaps it wasn't -- Lola supposed there were only two people in the universe who truly knew the answer to that question.

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

Lola chuckled, letting the genuine happiness she felt for him consume her. "Me either."

The next time she passed him, she smiled at the ring widely. "Congratulations! I see the ring." She pointed at his hand.

Mickey smiled softly, gazing at it with a look in his eye Lola could only describe as love. "Yeah, thanks."He seemed a little uncomfortable, so Lola refrained from asking about his wife, and if he had any pictures to show her. She was learning new things about this man every day. The woman who tied him down must have been patient, but also extremely lucky.

"Ugh, I wish he was single," Jenna muttered again later on in the day, gazing longingly at Mickey's ass. "That butt makes the whole ex-con, escaping prison thing worth it."

Lola laughed at her friend, agreeing silently.

It was nearing the end of their shift, and the four people had changed out of their uniforms, getting rid of the ugly pastel pink color, exchanging it with something that was actually fashionable -- Mickey had an especially good fashion sense, in Lola's opinion (he could rock ripped jeans). Mickey had still been in the staff changing room when Lola noticed a guy hanging around the store. A tall, extremely hot redheaded guy, with one of the best bodies she'd seen on a man in a while.

She shook Jenna's arm so she could point out the guy to her, aware that Jenna deserved to gaze at a man this good-looking. He was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt along with skinny jeans that accentuated all of his muscles, from the ones in his arms to his leg ones -- he was ripped, and Lola could only assume there were chiseled abs hiding underneath the shirt. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

Jenna turned around to see what the fuss was about, but her mouth fell open when her eyes landed in the ginger.

"Oh my God, I think just came."

"Me too," Lola admitted. She was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. "I think we need to get laid."

"Definitely." Jenna's eyes were glued to the man. His hair was perfect too -- slicked back, and just... it was a sort of, ' you simply had to see it to believe it' type of situation. He was beautiful. "Man, how the fuck does God create these men?"

Jenna didn't tear her eyes away. "He must be either really bad in bed or a total douchebag. There's no way he's that hot and nice too."

They suddenly heard Mickey's voice behind them. "Trust me, he's neither."

Lola and Jenna jumped in surprise, but she didn't even have a moment to think about what Mickey said. She was still looking at the ginger, but his green eyes were locked on somebody else though, and he didn't even seem to notice the two women gaping openly at him.

When Lola turned to follow his gaze she was surprised to see it land on Mickey.

"Oh my dear Lord, he's totally eye-fucking Mickey!" She whisper-shouted at Jenna, Mickey being far away not to hear her. Jenna whipped her head around towards where Mickey stood, seemingly unaware.

"Oh my God, he totally is!"

Mickey noticed them staring. He raised an eyebrow at the two women and then as if on a whim, approached them. "You need anything?" He asked, seemingly uncomfortable, but he still paid no attention to the fact a guy was blatantly letting it show on his face that he was imagining all of the things he could probably be doing to Mickey, right now. The redhead had the biggest case of bed-eyes she'd seen in a while.

Lola blinked herself out of her daze. "Um, no. Uh, we just-- we, uh--" She was at a loss for words and Jenna didn't seem to even think about helping.

"Ugh, God." They suddenly heard Jeremy exclaim. All eyes turned to him. "There's a really hot guy outside the store, and he's staring at you." He made a gesture as if saying, 'See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?'. "That's what they're trying to say."

Mickey turned to look forward outside and when his gaze fell on the guy -- the guy he had most certainly already noticed -- his face lit up even more, and his lip curled into a smirk. He turned towards Jeremy and nodded at him. "Glad to see you toughening up."

Jeremy smiled at Mickey as if they were sharing an inside joke, and both Lola and Jenna had no idea what it was. They shared a disbelieving look. "Learned from the best, man," Jeremy replied as they fist-bumped and Lola knew her and Jenna's eyes had to be unnaturally wide.

"So um, so you know the guy outside? He's totally checking you out." Jenna nodded at the hot guy who was still watching them -- watching Mickey, specifically. Lola guessed he was waiting for him, for whatever reason. She guessed hot guys stuck together. If he wasn't a ginger, Lola would have assumed they were brothers and that the good looks simply ran in the gene pool. Lola watched as Mickey locked eyes with the man and smiled. The guy raised his eyebrows in question and Mickey just kept the grin on his face.

"That's Ian, my husband."

Shock couldn't even begin to describe what Lola was currently feeling. If somebody had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down her back, she would have probably been less surprised. As she was contemplating everything she knew and had been learning about Mickey, the man in question waved towards Ian to join them. Ian made his way inside and Lola could lie and say she didn't swoon.

"Hi." He greeted sheepishly with a smile, previously observing the commotion.

Mickey seemed unnaturally relaxed as he stood close to Ian, wrapping a hand behind his back subconsciously. Lola wondered who the man in front of her was -- it most certainly wasn't the grump Lola had been working with all this time.

"Ian, meet Lola, Jenna, and Jeremy."

Ian smiled politely at all three of them, leaving Lola in a daze -- God, he was gorgeous. She was just about to reply when he nodded at Jeremy specifically. "Sup, Jeremy. Heard a lot about you."

Jeremy smiled back at Ian. "Same, dude. Your husband just can't seem to shut up about you."

Ian smirked, and then turned to look at Mickey, "Is that so?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fuck you both. I got married. What am I supposed to do? Just shut up about it? Hell no."

Ian laughed and draped an arm around Mickey's shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. I don't mind."

Ian and Mickey shared a quick look, and Lola wondered if she would ever find a person who would look at her the way these two men looked at each other. She suddenly felt bad for thinking Mickey was straight -- everything about this simple interaction screamed gay.

"We should head home, I know you've been waiting for ages outside."

Ian nodded. "Yeah okay, let's go." He then smiled at the three people in front of them widely. "It was nice meeting you guys."

Jeremy was the only one capable of responding. "You too."

"See ya'," Mickey muttered lamely as a goodbye and the couple was out of the store in the blink of an eye, arms wrapped around each other, talking quietly, their expressions pure happiness.

Lola and Jenna turned around to stare at their friend.

"What the fuck was that?" Lola asked, incredulous.

The traitor in front of them shrugged. "What? While you guys were coming up with conspiracies and weird theories, I actually talked to the guy. He's pretty cool. He was raised and lives on the Southside where he met Ian. He first spent some time in juvie. Got shot twice. Went to prison, escaped from prison, went to Mexico, worked for a cartel, rolled on said cartel be with Ian. They were in prison together and they decided to get married when they got out. He's actually been giving me tips to boost my street cred. We've been working on that shit for some time now."

Lola shook her head in thought. "When did you guys become so close?"

Jeremy snorted. "When you decided not 5o add me back to the group chat, bitches." He smirked. "Revenge is a dish best served cold." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm not dark and brooding, but I guess I can add mysterious to my list of charms."

Lola and Jenna watched him as he turned around.

"Is it just me or did he suddenly get hot?"

Lola sighed loudly. "I think we've been tricked."

Jenna groaned, suddenly. "I can't believe it. Two men that hot -- and they end up with each other. Like, what the fuck? Why can't there be one for me?"

Lola laughed, but, as always, silently agreed.

Everybody lost their jobs when the pandemic hit, and when the Old Army finally went back into business, Mickey Milkovich wasn't there. The gossip moved on to different topics and different employees -- the hot security guard was nothing but a distant memory.

The next time Lola saw them was years later. She was much older, much more experienced, and much more in love. She had met somebody, had fallen deep, and it had changed her life for the better.

Love was an interesting thing.

Mickey was standing at the corner of a street. The sun was shining brightly above him, and Lola realized he still looked as beautiful as ever -- his face was much more relaxed though as if the walls he had spent years putting up were suddenly all down, letting his pearl shine through, and glint in the sun. He was waiting for somebody outside of a store, and somehow, Lola knew it was his husband.

She couldn't remember his name, but she could never forget the look.

So many years had passed, and Lola had gone through so many relationships -- but the look was what always had her looking for more, never settling for anything short of what she knew she could have. What they showed her she could have.

Once she found someone who looked at her the way Ian -- Lola would only remember his name sometime later in the day -- looked at Mickey, and somebody she would look at the way Mickey looked at Ian -- that was when she'd know she had found the one.

Ian exited the store, much to Lola's expectation, his red hair, slightly grown out, fiery red in the Sun. The boy holding his hand was smiling widely, and the smile only grew once he saw Mickey.

The boy dropped Ian's hand and ran towards -- Lola simply knew -- his father, jumping into his arms. Mickey picked the small boy up effortlessly -- he was no older than five -- laughing along with him as the boy dove into, what Lola presumed, a story.

Ian and Mickey shared a look, so akin to the one they had shared that day, years ago, in the store, filled with so much love, adoration and happiness before focusing their gazes on their child. It wasn't just between them anymore -- the love they had was now for the little boy as well, nurturing and taking care of him, allowing him to bask in it. They probably didn't even realize they were doing it.

Lola felt tears in her eyes.

She had once searched for the look.

Now, she hoped she would one day be able to share this look with her own husband and her own child.

Lola patted her swollen belly.

One day.

She watched as the two men and boy pulled away, still listening to the story the boy was telling. Lola pulled her phone out as she watched their retreating forms.

Lola opened the group chat, typing excitedly.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (12:33 PM): You'll never guess who I just saw.

She was thankful for many things Mickey Milkovich showed her, but the one thing she was grateful for the most was that thanks to him, the gossip never ended.

#gallavich #ian and mickey #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #fanfic #based on a prompt #shameless #ian gallagher #ianxmickey #shameless us

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scaredredpanda · 3 years ago

Text

ETERNALS SPOILERS FOR IKARIS

DOST HATH BEEN WARNED

honestly, i haven’t been a fan of marvel since probably around infinity war, so i’m just a major grumpy pants in general. feel free to disagree with me.

but ikaris bothers me so much.

not in that he was the plot twist villain, i was fine with that and having a conflicted character is always interesting, especially with a premise like eternals.

but it was in how they misused him.

we never saw ajak telling ikaris the eternals’ true purpose on earth. we never saw him leave sersi. we never saw how these things affected him (or anyone else for that matter sersi just started fucking his cousin to get over him).

there was a lot of exposition dumping in eternals, and there has to be because of how new all of these concepts are (especially since they throw all of the beginning exposition away for plot twists).

but the only tell of how any of these events affects ikaris is in how he doesn’t like that ajak chose sersi to be leader.

richard madden can play a conflicted leader type character. this is evident in bodyguard, which is one of my favorite shows and made him one of my favorite actors.

but eternals completely wastes the subtlety that madden can show. all of his 'emotional' moments are just a single tear and him brooding. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. it happens like five times like jesus christ have other emotions please other than evil brooding and crybaby.

i’m not happy with almost any of the character work done in eternals and i think every single actor was wasted in one way or another because there simply isn’t enough time to flesh everyone out and have a satisfying plot. and you can see that in how most of the actual conflict happens in the last hour (?) of the movie and everything before that was setup and exposition (which is why the pacing is kind of a mess).

the “icarus flying too close to the sun” metaphor is also terrible. it would really only work in this context if he was more headstrong and took more action by himself but he’s just pouty the entire time.

he also isn't malicious in the way that he knows something that the others don’t. he acts like a petty bitch who didn’t get a promotion.

ikaris is extremely unlikeable from the very beginning. he kind of acts like jon snow in s6-8 in that he stands around being sad (with no other personality trait), so the plot twist doesn’t work because we aren't attached to him (or really anyone in my opinion but that's just me I didn't connect with any of the characters). if he were just a good ol' fashion villain from the start, maybe this personality would work. there's no emotional pull in this conflict and it comes so out of left field that it left me almost completely uninterested in the final fight.

and then his refusal to kill sersi is so dumb because their relationship is not nearly developed enough to make us care (and the boinking scene was no bueno).

AND THEN HE COMMITS SUICIDE BY LITERALLY FLYING TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN THAT IS THE DUMBEST SHIT EVER WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK JUST BECAUSE HIS NAME IS IKARIS DOESN'T MEAN YOU NEED TO BE THAT LITERAL

it's a pretty big meme that marvel has bad villains, and this just serves to further prove it because ikaris is basically the main villain and he isn't fleshed out AT ALL.

anyways, thanks for reading my bird brain thoughts

#eternals #marvel #marvels eternals #ikaris #richard madden #sorry for all the got references they're right there #i'm like twice i can't stop me

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Volcanic Love (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 6045

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on my other Taywhora oneshot, it made me so happy. Enjoy this one, too - fully a product of Taywhora beginning to occupy my thoughts with no signs of leaving. Title from Volcanic Love by The Aces. Also thank you Writ for betaing and bouncing ideas with me, and Pop for catching any North American slang that may have sneaked in, I appreciate you both ❤️

Tayce isn’t a chicken.

It doesn’t matter what Tia’s said in the past. She’s never had the balls to flirt with Veronica, anyway, she’s the real chicken.

Tayce is just respectful, that’s it. She’s not about to go hit on her best mate in the club, not when they’re going back to the same flat, not when A’whora’s eyes right now are on everyone but her.

Doesn’t matter, anyway. Tayce is here for drinks and to forget about her shitty work week.

Even if A’whora’s talking to a leggy brunette by the barstools. And giggling. And tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Christ.

A tap on Tayce’s arm makes her jump, and Lawrence is looking at her a tad impatiently, gesturing towards the waiting bartender on the other side of the table.

“What d’you want, then? Can’t wait all night while you stare at your woman.”

“She’s not my woman,” Tayce mutters under her breath, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. “Two tequila shots, please and thank you.”

Lawrence raises her eyebrows. “Two already? You that ready to end up with your head in the toilet tonight, are you?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Tayce peeks over again while the bartender prepares their drinks and A’whora’s whispering something into the brunette’s ear, leaning in close to her. Tayce grabs the table just a little bit harder.

She knows that Bimini’s organized this night out for them so that Tayce can finally get her shit together. They’re out far too often as it is, despite graduating uni and beginning adult jobs and working normal hours, but regardless, this evening has a purpose. Not that Tayce wants it to. Her liking for A’whora is clear as day to everyone except for A’whora herself, and part of Tayce wants it to stay that way.

Why ruin it, anyway? They’re friends, best friends at that, and A’whora cares for her and knows all her secrets and is the most important person in the world. Or rather, she knows all of Tayce’s secrets except how much she fancies her.

Tayce clinks her shot glass with Lawrence’s whiskey before she tosses it back, the salt and lime on her tongue straight after enough to start a fresh fire through her veins. Maybe it’s not going to happen, tonight, or ever. Tayce is fine with that, especially when she’s on a night out with her mates and Little Mix is blaring in the DJ’s mix overhead.

That’s all she needs for a good night out.

Ellie pushes through the crowd to reach them, a head taller than everyone else. “Did you get my vodka cran?”

“Course,” Lawrence grins, handing the glass to her. “Even though we both know it tastes like horseshit. You gotta branch out your options, El.”

“Just like you ordering a whiskey every night out like the wee old man you are?” Ellie sticks out her tongue without missing a beat, and Tayce snorts when Lawrence lifts a mock offended hand to her chest.

“Excuse me for having some pride for the homeland. Not about to let the English win around here.” Lawrence tosses her drink back, and the slight wince on her face is just about noticeable.

“Looks divine,” Tayce deadpans, craning her neck towards where A’whora had been standing.

Except she’s not there anymore, and she’s not in the crowd of people either, and-

“She’s coming up behind you, dafty,” Lawrence snickers, and Tayce hardly has a second to retort before a set of arms wraps around her waist.

“Did you miss me?” A’whora’s voice takes on the sing song quality that it always does when she’s a few drinks in, and Tayce has to ignore the way her stomach feels like it’s filling with butterflies.

Because it’s not.

“Kept yourself busy over there, did you?” Tayce gets out, trying her best not to let the bitterness peek through in her voice.

A’whora’s allowed to flirt with whoever she wants. It’s fine, really.

“I love meeting new people, that’s all,” A’whora grins, reaching across Tayce to flag the bartender, “unlike you, you antisocial creature.”

“Lies. I have enough friends already,” Tayce mumbles as A’whora pulls back, the scent of her perfume making Tayce’s breath hitch in her throat.

She needs her second shot.

Tayce tosses it back as A’whora takes a sip of her rum and coke, and the burn of the liquor at the back of her throat isn’t enough to distract her from the way that A’whora wraps her lips around the straw, all round and delicate as not to smudge her lip gloss.

“You’d be a lot less grumpy if you moved away from the bar, y’know,” A’whora says in between sips. “Maybe danced around a bit or something. No more sulking on nights out like you normally do.”

“She really does sulk, doesn’t she?” Lawrence pipes up, another whiskey in hand, and Tayce can’t help but roll her eyes at the pointed tone in her voice.

Lawrence wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit her in the head.

“Come on. We’re all gonna go dance. No more sulking.”

A’whora grabs her hand, and Tayce starts to panic for a second because she’s sure she’s a little bit clammy, but Ellie and Lawrence are following them and maybe Tayce’s brain is running just a little bit too fast for her own good. They end up in the thick of the crowd and it’s sweaty, gross, but it also makes Tayce feel a little nostalgic for uni, when they’d do this too often and end up hungover for class the next afternoon.

The Rihanna that the mix fades into is enough to make Tayce forget about the fact that she’s attracted to her best friend, especially when she’s giggling at Ellie’s attempt to embody the song with her lip-syncing. She joins in at the chorus, and fuck it, there’s nothing on par with screaming out the words to Bitch Better Have My Money with her mates, especially with Lawrence’s rather unmelodic tones.

She does love them.

“Let me squeeze in!”

Bimini’s voice is loud enough to be heard over the music as they pushes themselves in between Lawrence and Ellie, their fur coat miraculously still around their shoulders while balancing a drink in each hand.

“Well there you are!” Lawrence exclaims, and the delight on her face is exactly how Tayce feels, all of her friends together and-

Well, almost all of them. There’s Ellie, and Lawrence, and now Bimini, but where has A’whora gone off to again?

Tayce goes up on her tiptoes, craning her neck because she can’t have gotten that far with the crowds, she has to be near…

Oh.

She’s found a girl to dance up on. Blonde, this time. A lovely sight to see.

The tentative excitement that had been rising in Tayce’s chest bursts like a balloon, the sinking feeling spreading along her insides and pulling her back down to the ground because of course A’whora’s found someone to grind up against and shoot sultry eyes at because she’s good at that, at getting what she wants. It’s fine, it is, because Tayce is having fun watching Lawrence try to rap Taki Taki.

She doesn’t care what A’whora’s doing.

Except that when she peeks over again, A’whora’s crouching down while she dances and she’s got her hands on the girl’s thighs and she’s looking up at her with an expression that can only be described as hungry. And it doesn’t matter that there’s an elbow poking at Tayce’s back, or that the mix overhead weaves in a Beyonce song that she’d normally scream the words to, because right now she’s got tunnel vision, unable to pull her eyes away from A’whora despite the fact that she feels like she’s burning up the longer she does. Despite the ripping in Tayce’s chest and the rushing in her ears, it’s fine, because A’whora’s allowed to do whatever she wants. Tayce is her friend and nothing more, and she’s used to it, she is.

But then A’whora slowly rises up from her crouched position and wraps her arms around the girl’s neck, leaning in to kiss her and Tayce needs to get out of the crowd and off the dance floor.

The club bathroom has suspicious stains on the walls but it’s blissfully empty, a fact that Tayce is thankful for because at least she can lose her mind in private. She doesn’t need anyone else witnessing an absolutely pathetic meltdown over her best friend.

Tayce’s lip colour is smudged when she looks at herself in the dust covered mirror, and she halfheartedly pulls out her lipstick from her clutch to fix it. Not that it matters, when she’ll probably grab a taxi home in a few minutes anyway, because her bed and some sleep will at least help her forget the sight of A’whora practically on her knees.

Once she’s fixed her lipstick, Tayce runs a hand through her hair and lets out a sigh. She’s changed her mind. Going out isn’t so nostalgic anymore. It’s shit.

“You done admiring yourself in the mirror yet?”

“Jesus, fucking-”

Tayce whirls around at the voice and of fucking course A’whora is standing there, her own lipstick a bit smudged and looking too smug for her own good and Tayce hates the way her heart starts to beat just a bit faster.

“Thought you were busy macking on some slag and giving everyone a little front row performance,” Tayce mutters, turning back towards the mirror.

“Oh, so you were watching, then?” A’whora’s voice is positively delighted, and Tayce wants to roll her eyes at the audacity.

“I think people in the nosebleeds could see that even if they didn’t want to. A little careless, no? Nearly shagging on the dance floor?”

Tayce isn’t bitter. She’s not. Not over something this stupid.

“What, are you a nun suddenly preaching chastity and pureness and everything that’s holy? Is that it?” A’whora snickers, not looking fazed in the least as she sidles up to Tayce at the counter.

Tayce scoffs, trying to keep herself from glancing at A’whora in the mirror. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more aware of your surroundings, that’s all.”

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

It’s a lie, a flat out lie but A’whora doesn’t need to know that, not when it highlights how absolutely pathetic Tayce feels for having A’whora fucking notice. A new low for her. She might as well trod home with her tail between her legs at this point, not that it would save her from any embarrassment.

So, she’s going to have to pretend it never even happened.

“I wasn’t, but you did that enough for me,” A’whora murmurs, and Jesus, she’s coming up behind Tayce and looking at her in the mirror with the sultry eyes that are usually reserved for other girls. “I like seeing you all worked up in a tizzy.”

“I’m not worked up,” Tayce breathes out, trying her best to hold on to the semblance of control she has before it smashes into pieces.

“So you wouldn’t mind then, if I went back on the dance floor and found another girl to kiss? You wouldn’t care if I brought someone home and let her have her way with me? You’ll be just fine with that, huh?”

It’s hard to think straight when A’whora’s hands are raking up her sides, when she’s looking at her all smug through the mirror because she knows she’s going to get what she wants, the way she always does.

Maybe Tayce will be weak willed if she gives in. Maybe A’whora’s going to be smug for weeks after, or maybe she’s going to tease her mercilessly because she’s just joking around with her hands at her waist. Except A’whora’s hand is trailing to her ass, and she’s biting her own lip in the mirror and fuck-

She gives in.

Tayce turns around, face to face with A’whora whose eyes widen for just a second before Tayce captures her lips in a biting kiss. The hitch in A’whora’s breath and the way she surges forward is enough evidence that she isn’t joking around.

Good.

Tayce grabs A’whora’s waist and flips their positions, so that she has her up against the counter. It’s funny - she’s thought about kissing A’whora before, too many times for her own good, but a dingy club bathroom with her heart beating out of her chest is not how she’d envisioned it happening.

A’whora’s needy, pawing at Tayce’s waist to try and bring her closer than she already is. Tayce nudges A’whora’s legs apart with her own thigh, trailing a hand up her chest and past her collarbone and neck until she’s cupping her jaw. She pulls back from the kiss and A’whora’s lips are slightly parted as she catches her breath, her eyes alight but a little bit hazy.

“Is this what you’ve wanted all night, then?”

Tayce has to applaud herself for the semblance of calmness in her voice, not betraying the fact that her insides feel like they’re catching on fire, her heart beating faster and faster the longer she’s touching A’whora.

A’whora looks as dazed as Tayce herself feels, her lipstick smudged and her lips parted while she catches her breath. Tayce watches as her eyes flick down to look at her lips then back up again, and she takes a step back because she knows that A’whora’s about to lean in and kiss her again. The whine A’whora lets out is more than gratifying.

“You could have just asked, y’know. Dunno why you’ve got to go and make it so complicated for the both of us,” Tayce murmurs, licking her own lips as she steps in closer again.

It’s as if there’s a string between them that’s been pulled taut all night and on the verge of snapping, except now, Tayce is the one controlling it. And after how she’s been on edge all evening, it’s a welcome reprieve, a familiar feeling that she’s been craving for so long.

“I…” A’whora’s words trail off when Tayce leans forward, pressing a kiss to her neck, and then another that slightly nips at her skin, and it’s all Tayce can do to keep herself from smirking against the corner of her jaw.

Because, of all people, she’s the one having this effect on A’whora. A’whora, who could absolutely be classified as a certified babe magnet. A’whora, who can land any girl that she bloody wants. A’whora, who has been on Tayce’s mind for far too long whenever she slips her hand between her legs in the shower. A’whora, who up until now Tayce has had to push down any semblance of feelings for.

But now Tayce has her in her grasp and it’s verging on the edge of being too much, sending her brain into overdrive if she focuses on it for too long.

So instead, Tayce brings her attention back to A’whora, who gasps when her lips focus on the juncture between her neck and collarbone. There’s no way A’whora’s neck isn’t going to be looking ridiculous after this, between Tayce’s lipstick and the fact that she’s being rather liberal with how much she’s tugging at A’whora’s skin, but A’whora’s hands are fisting in her hair and it’s becoming clear that she’s the type to like it like this.

She brings a hand up to grab one of A’whora’s tits, her thumb tracing over her nipple that’s already beginning to harden through the dress fabric because of course A’whora’s not wearing a bra, cheeky slag she is. The whine that A’whora lets out when Tayce pulls her face back is enough to make her want to squeeze her own legs together but she steels herself, putting on the most confident face she can muster without falling apart.

“More,” A’whora gets out in between sharp breaths for air, and part of Tayce wishes that she could frame this sight, keep it in her mind forever.

Instead, she presses her lips together. “I’m not about to fuck you in the loo, Rory. What sort of slag do you take me for?”

A’whora’s brows press together adorably, and Tayce has to resist the urge to smooth them out for her. “But-”

“Let’s go home.”

They end up in A’whora’s room solely because of the shorter distance from the front door, as compared to Tayce’s at the end of the hallway. Tayce kicks the door closed behind them, watching as A’whora flops herself down on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows.

It’s strange - Tayce has been in A’whora’s room thousands of times before, like when they do their makeup together or watch Netflix while passing a spliff back and forth. But right now, the air in the room feels different, a breeze that makes her hair want to stand on end. Or maybe that’s the effect from the look that A’whora’s shooting her from the bed.

She takes her time as she walks over to the mattress, kicking off her heels once she reaches her. There’s a hair elastic on A’whora’s bedside table and Tayce grabs it, tying her hair into a bun and out of her face before she climbs up on the bed herself, straddling A’whora’s lap in a swift movement.

A’whora’s so pretty like this. Not that she isn’t always, when she’s laughing and her eyes scrunch or when she’s tearing up because of a cute kitten video on Instagram. But there’s something about this sight, when A’whora has her hair spread out on the sheets, her chest rising and falling almost erratically, that Tayce wants to absolutely drink up.

She channels her bravado from the club bathroom as she tucks a lock of A’whora’s hair behind her ear, watching as her eyes flutter. “You getting sleepy on me?”

“Better stop boring me, then,” A’whora squeaks out, and Tayce knows, knows that it’s a bluff, but a small part voice in her brain yells at her to accept it as a challenge.

A’whora wants more? She’ll get more.

Tayce grabs at A’whora’s hipbone and flips her over so that she’s on her stomach, revelling in the gasp that A’whora lets out when her face buries itself in her arms on the mattress. She runs a hand up A’whora’s thigh, over the curve of her ass and can feel a satisfaction blooming in her chest when A’whora pushes back into her touch.

“So impatient, for someone who was a little brat and teasing me all night.”

A’whora lifts her face out of her arms, the pout on her lips so quintessentially her. “Tayce, c’mon.”

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?”

Tayce pushes the edge of A’whora’s dress up, exposing more and more of her thighs and tracing along the soft skin. By the time the skirt is bunched up at her hips and the lace of her thong is exposed, Tayce feels like her mind is going into overdrive. She wants nothing more than to speed up the process and just pull the lace down and make A’whora come as fast as possible, but she forces herself to slow down, enjoy the process. Relish in it.

She tugs upwards on A’whora’s hips until A’whora understands the hint and gets up so that she’s resting on her elbows and knees, ass up in the air. Tayce taps the outside of A’whora’s thigh and she parts her legs, and part of Tayce wonders how she’s still upright and breathing herself.

“Good girl,” Tayce murmurs, because there’s really no wrong time to test out the waters and see what makes A’whora tick.

From the little noise A’whora lets out from the back of her throat, it seems like Tayce is on the right track.

Tayce can’t help herself from cupping A’whora’s ass with her hands, kneading the flesh. “You really do have a nice behind, y’know that?”

“Behind? What are you, my eighty year old nan?” A’whora snickers, and despite herself, Tayce lets out a huff.

“Why am I even about to fuck you?”

“Because you’re drawn in by my ass-ets,” A’whora says, a grin on her face as she wiggles her bum slightly, and Tayce has to roll her eyes.

Despite the idiocy, it’s still hot. Tayce is definitely in too deep. She may as well dial for help now.

Her nails are short but she drags them lightly on A’whora’s skin, watching the goosebumps that rise on the surface. She follows the lace of A’whora’s thong with one hand, reaching between her legs, and shit, A’whora’s already damp through the fabric.

Not that Tayce isn’t herself, but that’s another story.

She anchors her other hand on A’whora’s hip as she traces her fingers along the lace, and she can feel a smile spreading on her face when A’whora lets out a little whine. Part of Tayce’s brain feels like it’s still in disbelief, waiting for her to wake up from a particularly saucy dream in which she ends up in her flatmate’s bed with said flatmate a mess beneath her with the sheets bunched up between her fingers. All the pining and the ‘sexual tension,’ in Lawrence’s words, coming to a head feels surreal, almost on par with seeing a dragon in their backyard or with Ellie actually being shorter than someone for once.

But she’s here, and A’whora’s here and fidgeting in the sheets and Tayce needs to stop getting bizarrely tender about hooking up with her flatmate.

It’s easier to push A’whora’s knickers to the side rather than to pull them off entirely, especially when she’s already shaky on her knees. Tayce traces along A’whora’s folds, the wetness that coats the pads of her fingers making her feel dizzy, and A’whora pushes back against her touch, a moan in the back of her throat.

“What, are you waiting for someone to make a speech or something? C’mon.”

Tayce has to grin at the gumption. A’whora’s never been one to hold back what she’s thinking. “See, I would, but you didn’t say please.”

“Fucking bitch,” A’whora groans, dropping her face back into her hands, and Tayce takes the opportunity to still two of her fingers near A’whora’s entrance, not quite pushing in the way she wants.

“Still didn’t hear a please, though.”

“Ugh. Please. You absolute hound,” A’whora grumbles, but her words cut off in a gasp when Tayce decides to give in, pushing in a finger, then another when A’whora spreads her legs apart just a little more.

A’whora’s one of the more responsive girls she’s ever had sex with, already trying to rock back against her when Tayce curls her fingers. It makes Tayce want to give her more, so as much as her wrist is complaining when she maneuvers her position so that she can circle around her clit with her thumb, she keeps at it. Speeds up when A’whora starts to drip down onto her palm.

“God, I…” A’whora gasps, and Tayce can feel the way she’s squeezing around her fingers and it’s hot, A’whora’s fucking hot and so close to the edge and there’s no way Tayce is going to stop now for anything.

Tayce leans down and presses a kiss to A’whora’s shoulder blade, the motions of her hand unforgiving as she keeps up her pace without slowing, and the contrast between the two is almost striking.

“You close, baby?”

She can see the way A’whora’s back muscles are tensing, the way her face drops into her hands as her legs get more unsteady and she drinks it all in, committing it to memory because fuck, she’s had a lot to drink tonight but there’s no way she’s gonna forget a second of this. Not when A’whora is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

A’whora can’t kill Tayce for leaving marks on her back if she can’t see them - it’s flawless logic, really. But it’s enough reason for Tayce to pay attention to the ripple of A’whora’s muscles, the heat emanating from her skin when she kisses and nips because she can’t help herself, A’whora’s back a canvas that isn’t going to stay empty for too long.

Tayce doesn’t dare change her pace, not when A’whora’s squeezing around her and her muscles are tensing and her breaths are coming in little gasps that are somehow endearing. She ignores the burning in her forearm, the way she’s worked up a sweat of her own because A’whora’s eyes are squeezed shut, and the noise in the back of her throat cuts off on a raggedy gasp for breath.

“Fuck, ah, shit-”

A’whora’s whimpering, her face buried in her arms and her legs squeezing Tayce’s hand in a death grip as her knees finally give out in a heap on the mattress. Tayce wipes her fingers on the back of A’whora’s still shaking thighs as she pulls her hand back, pressing a kiss to her hipbone before she turns her onto her back as carefully as she can.

There’s something to be said for a post-orgasm A’whora, from how her chest is rising and falling to the way she has an almost dopey smile on her face that she covers with the back of her hand.

“C’mere,” A’whora mumbles, holding out a hand with grabby motions and Tayce snorts, crossing her arms.

“Postcoital A’whora is a cuddler. Who knew?”

“M’not cuddling,” A’whora pouts, reaching for Tayce’s arm. “I wanna get on top now.”

Tayce yelps when A’whora tugs on her elbow, bracing her hands against the mattress and catching herself on top of her just in time. “You, a top? That’s a thought.”

“Hey!” A’whora whines, wiggling underneath her. “It’s my turn.”

Tayce has to hold back a laugh. “You sound like a child waiting for their go on the swings.”

But then A’whora pushes on Tayce’s hipbone and nudges her leg against her inner thigh and Tayce isn’t sure, really, how A’whora ends up on top of her, though the grin on her face is adorably triumphant.

“Ha! See, I’m strong,” A’whora preens, tossing her hair over her shoulder as her thighs bracket Tayce’s hips and as much as Tayce wants to roll her eyes, she has to admit the sight is kind of hot.

Especially when A’whora licks her lips as her gaze drags down Tayce’s body, a lioness who’s finally gotten her prey. A lioness with highlighter on her cheekbones and a slinky dress that’s still bunched up at her hips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, y’know that?” A’whora whispers the words centimeters away from Tayce’s ear, raking a hand through her hair and she can feel the way it makes goosebumps rise on her skin.

Not that Tayce is one to let her facade drop so easily. “Oh, yeah? Why’re you always out there kissing other girls, then?”

She still hasn’t forgotten the sight of A’whora grinding up on some girl on the dance floor. Or how badly she wanted it to be her.

A’whora blinks at her. “How else was I supposed to go and get your attention? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re a cheeky little hound, aren’t you?” Tayce snorts, shaking her head against the sheets.

Christ.

Really, A’whora’s not wrong. It had certainly gotten her attention, alright, made her stomach turn and need to leave the dance floor before she had a full on crisis while the beat dropped.

A’whora tsks, a smug smile alighting her features. “And yet, you still have those puppy dog eyes for me.”

“I do not-”

Tayce’s half hearted protest is cut off when A’whora presses her lips to hers, licking into her mouth. It’s bullshit and she knows it, A’whora does too, but it doesn’t matter, not when A’whora’s grinding her hips down onto her and moving her kisses to her jaw and her neck.

A’whora’s not one to waste any time, dragging her nails past Tayce’s collarbone and chest and soothing her path with kisses before she pushes Tayce’s dress straps off of her shoulders, beckoning her forward to pull on her zipper. Tayce follows without question, lifting her hips so that A’whora can tug the dress from underneath and off her legs.

Being flatmates means that they’ve seen each other in various states of undress before - when they’re trying on clothes they’ve just bought, when they’re lounging around the flat in their bras when it’s too bloody hot that one month during that one month a year London becomes a fucking sauna. But the purposeful nature with which A’whora traces a hand up Tayce’s inner thigh, her eyes lingering on the lace on her hips and the straps along her ribs, feels worlds away from those times. Tayce has to resist the urge to cross her arms, pull the sheets up on herself, because the way A’whora’s eyes are widened and her mouth is slightly parted makes no real sense when her brain tries to compute it.

A’whora pushes down on Tayce’s shoulder until she’s laying back against the cushions and winks before she resumes her path downwards, pressing biting kisses along her ribs and above her hip bone that make Tayce draw a breath in between her teeth. A’whora’s touch is delicate when she tugs on the lace sitting in the crease of Tayce’s thigh, pulling the thong down her legs and throwing it on the ground to follow the dress.

“My turn,” A’whora grins as she pushes Tayce’s legs apart, and Tayce feels like she’s going to pass out before A’whora’s even gone and done anything.

A’whora takes her time, trailing a path with her lips past Tayce’s calves, her knees, up her inner thighs, in the crease by her hip bone. Tayce tugs on her hair, a cue to speed up her pace but A’whora falters for only a second, a flutter of her eyes before looking up at Tayce, shaking her head.

“No rushing.”

“Mmh-”

Tayce’s protest cuts off when A’whora drags her tongue up her slit ever so slowly, the contact not enough in the least but also the first she’s gotten so far, which makes it feel almost like a welcome reprieve. A’whora pushes her thighs further apart, looking up with her with eyes that draw her in as her tongue traces a path around her clit, not quite giving her the relief she needs.

“Don’t tease,” Tayce gasps, her hands involuntarily tightening their grip in A’whora’s hair, and A’whora lets out a moan into her cunt in response which Tayce has to file away as the hottest fucking thing she’s ever heard.

A’whora trades her earlier motions for circling Tayce’s clit, and Tayce doesn’t even care at this point if the rest of their flatmates are home and can hear them, because A’whora’s good. Better than good. She’s going to get Tayce there embarrassingly fast and Tayce is sure that she’ll brag about it later, but it doesn’t even matter at this point, not when Tayce’s brain is this hazy and she can feel her own breaths becoming more and more shallow.

There are half moon indents where A’whora’s nails are digging into Tayce’s thighs as her movements speed up, and Tayce can feel the familiar sensation building in her core and god, she’s so fucking weak for A’whora. She looks so hot like this, her face between Tayce’s thighs and Tayce feels like she could come from the sight in front of her alone.

But Tayce instead pulls oxygen from around the room into her lungs, forcing herself to breathe as her hips begin to lift themselves from the mattress and she’s so damn close to tipping over the edge. “Fucking hell, just like that.”

A’whora’s pace is steady as she looks up at her, a glint in her eyes that doesn’t waver when Tayce’s hands wind into her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Something about the confidence in A’whora’s gaze, the way she’s unwavering with her movements is enough to finally push Tayce over the edge and fuck, the sensations are all too much but also what she’s been craving, waiting for the entire evening, and it’s perfect.

A’whora’s committed, her tongue still making circles around her clit, albeit slower but it’s enough to make Tayce’s ribcage rise and fall all jaggedly, sucking in air that can’t fill her lungs soon enough. She pushes A’whora’s face away from between her legs when it becomes too much, hiding a mewl behind her palm but it doesn’t even matter, not when A’whora’s wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and looking like she’s a cat who’s just gotten the cream.

“Shut up,” Tayce mutters, but there’s no malice behind it, not when A’whora’s smile reaches her eyes and Tayce can’t help but reach out, stroke her cheek with her thumb.

A’whora leans into her touch and Tayce’s heart glows in her chest, lighting up hopes that maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t have to be a one off. Tayce isn’t that smashed anymore and A’whora doesn’t look like it either, but it doesn’t feel awkward for Tayce to scoot down on the bed, avoiding the wet patch to lay down beside A’whora when she pats the sheets with her palm.

A’whora’s grinning that cheeky smile that she does when she’s doing a bit and laughing at her own jokes, an expression that Tayce has seen far too often. “Why don’t you just stay the night, yeah? The commute back to yours would take too long. It’s not safe at this hour, really.”

“As if my room isn’t just down the hall.”

A’whora shrugs as she drapes an arm across Tayce’s midsection, shuffling to get closer to her. “See? Much too far. May as well stay here at this point.”

“Very compelling argument, I have to say,” Tayce can’t help but smile, and putting her arms around A’whora’s waist when she snuggles into her feels so normal, so them.

Yeah, A’whora’s half on her lap for movie nights anyway because they’re the only two who enjoy strawberry laces as a snack and they have to share the packet but now they’re snuggling, actually snuggling and Tayce doesn’t feel like running for the hills. Maybe because it’s A’whora, her best friend who knows when she’s annoyed and trying to hide it, the one who knows her coffee order down to the almond milk.

Tayce presses a kiss to the top of A’whora’s head because she can, and the contented sigh that A’whora lets out is enough to bloom the seeds of longing in her chest into strings of ivy that don’t ever want to let her go. She can’t, not anymore, not when she’s seen A’whora come apart but also sees A’whora now, nearly falling asleep on her chest with eyes that she can barely keep open.

She’s so beautiful.

And Tayce is so, absolutely fucked.

Maybe she’ll work out how to properly win A’whora over in the morning, and keep this from being something as stupid as a one night stand because Tayce doesn’t want that, or feel like she can handle the two of them only having something so fleeting. She needs A’whora around as more than just a best friend or a flatmate that always brings home fresh flowers for the kitchen table. The reminder is almost calming, in a way, running through her veins and a part of her after years of attempting to push the thoughts out of view.

Tayce can’t continue to bury the feelings in the farthest corners of her mind anymore, not with A’whora in her arms like this and having it actually mean something. No more pining. She’s going to promise herself.

Maybe she can ask A’whora out properly when they wake up, if she has the guts for it. That is, after asking for a round two first.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #uk2 #smut #lesbian au #holtzmanns

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