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sashaisready · 3 months ago

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Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve.

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face.

It was one of his own.

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion.

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over.

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue.

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm.

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion.

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

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matchalovertrait · 28 days ago

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Alegría VS Caruso: Day 1, Part 3

Dulce’s lifelong friend, Matthew Fyres, agreed to take the stand in court to verify the digital evidence. He works in cybersecurity and is highly skilled in computer science.

Back in Italy, he lived a bit further from Dulce and Guillermo, so they didn’t get to hang out as much. However, their bond was as strong as ever. He was more than willing to help Dulce.

It was risky to use him instead of a random expert who would be undeniably neutral on the stance, but part of the strategy was to show that Dulce has a lot of support and loyal friends.

��Mr. Matthew Fyres, please explain your role and credibility,” Antonio calmly asked. He knew Matthew was quite nervous.

Matthew took a deep breath to soothe himself. “I work for the cybersecurity agency of Italy’s government. I cannot share much about what I do since I handle sensitive information, but I am a professional in this line of work.”

“And you have verified the digital evidence we presented thus far? Including Ms. Alegría’s cookbook project files and data from her channel?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Isabela smirked. It was her turn to question him.

“Mr. Fyres. I’d also like to point out the interesting timeline of the creation of these digital records. They only date back to about a year ago, correct?”

Matthew hesitated.

Dulce’s eyes widened.

It’s true! Still, it’s her work. She transferred everything over from-

“Yes..” Matthew admitted. He was stuck! He didn’t know what else to say to that.

The courtroom began to fill with a few whispers from the jury and audience.

Dulce was thinking of something, what was it???

Isabela took a sharp turn and faced the jury. “And the social media accounts? When the evidence was being presented, I noticed a small dip in viewership and subscriptions before Mr. Caruso’s video was published. There was one, correct?”

“Yes, because Mr. Caruso posted an Instagram story announcing the breakup. However, the percentages were an insignificant amount.”

“It was still a noticeable amount. Viewers and sponsors were already losing faith in her or only liked her because of Mr. Caruso. Her videos appealed to the masses because she was good at playing the part of a chef with humble beginnings. However, many comments in Mr. Caruso’s video prove that a good portion of viewers already had suspicions about her. He inspired other people to come forward with their opinions. Ms. Alegría is not a real chef. She is a liar and a manipulator. Her downfall was destined to come sooner or later–”

“Objection! Ms. Campos is making baseless accusations against my client.”

Too many objections can make a lawyer look like there is something to hide, but Antonio felt like he had to do it.

“Overruled. Continue, Ms. Campos.”

Antonio sat down, his mind racing.

“Here is my last question: So far, we’ve gathered that Ms. Alegría is rather skilled at exploiting others. Could she have persuaded you to fabricate or alter the evidence? Just like how she let Mr. Caruso believe there was a future between them AND persuaded him to let her take credit for his recipes?”

The courtroom burst with noise as people reacted to her bold claims. Some people seemed persuaded.

Antonio glared at Isabela. I miscalculated...

Dulce looked down. It was hard to concentrate with all the chatter. Gosh, can everyone shut up for a second?

The judge was exclaiming, “Order! Order!” to no avail.

Then, it clicked. Shit. My notebook! That’s where I originally kept all my recipes. Where did I last see it? Did I leave it in Tartosa?

She smiled.

No, of course I brought it! That's how I transferred everything from my notebook to my computer a year ago.

It’s in my office. It has the dates and everything.

Maybe we can do ink dating testing or whatever it's called!

Things look bad now, but her culinary friends would come another day. Her notebook could surely help too. She has to tell Antonio.

#our buddy matthew 😌 i had to give him a part!! <3 #oh btw this is the last part for day 1 #dulce alegria #matthew fyres #oc mlt: antonio romero #oc mlt: isabela campos #tjolc gen 2 #alegria legacy #matchalovertrait #tjol challenge #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #tjolc #sims #sims 4 legacy

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cerastes · 1 year ago

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I’m thinking of how, in OpRec 2, Laurentina knows she has very limited time as herself before her brain deteriorates and she loses her reason again and becomes the “Specter” again. She has few precious hours as herself after years of being trapped in her own mind due to the experiments and the insane amount of pure liquid Originium Amaia and Quintus injected directly into her spinal cord.

She uses a bit of this time to spend it fighting a battle alongside Misery (who insisted she doesn’t need to help him but definitely welcomed the aid since apparently the situation was pretty bad), because in fighting, she can remain useful, in her own words. Skadi insists she hurry back to Rhodes Island, to which Specter says it’s pointless, because equipment on the surface simply cannot help her, only keep her alive, so she takes her sweet time fighting alongside Misery, and Skadi and Gladiia (the latter reluctantly) join.

She allots some more of her time to having a proper talk with Closure, answering as many questions as she can, both about herself and about Closure, but mainly, what she wanted to say was “do not change the way I’m treated. You know me as Specter, you have protocols around the Operator Specter. Retain them. I have to go.”

She talks with a very concerned Skadi and an unflinching but still upset Gladiia, but she already had time with them on the way back. The final person she wanted to talk to before her brain gave out again? Doctor. Explicitly because she predicted Closure and Doctor may take more care on her handling, maybe remove her from combat operations in order to more closely monitor her condition. This is exactly what she didn’t want.

Because end of the day, Laurentina is a Hunter. She finds it difficult to speak as surface dwellers do, she finds it almost nonsensical, and so, she demands, “Keep me in the fight, Doctor. We do not need words, we need only you having a clear objective and me, my orders. If you put me in a bed and out of the battlefield, you are denying me the last shred of identity I can cling on”.

Because she couldn’t sculpt, she couldn’t sing, she couldn’t even control her own body, if she was even conscious. The only thing that she could do to cling to being who she was...

...Is to at the very least be pointed towards an enemy to fight them, and pointed towards an ally to protect them.

Skadi believed Laurentina had died prior to the events of the game because this isn’t the first time she had done this: In order for the 3rd Squadron to advance towards Ishar’mla, the 2nd Squadron, Gladiia and Laurentina’s, practically sacrificed themselves covering for the 3rd.

She never blamed Skadi, and makes sure she knows it. She didn’t mind doing it again now, either. “Point me at the one I have to cut, put the ones I need to keep safe behind me, and give the order. Even if am completely lost in the darkness of my mind and madness of my heart, that, that will never leave me. That’s proof that I am Specter, that I am Shark, and that I am Laurentina. I, namely, I.”

As far as she knew, these were the last words she’d ever get out as herself. She used to make it very clear: “Do not deny me the only bit of purpose and identity I have left, because even if I am but a shell of myself, I’m still me.”

Of course, we now know that this was not to be her final fate, and she did manage to regain control, decisively, eventually, but... As far as she and Skadi and Doctor knew, at this point, this was really, really it. The briefest of encounters with the real Specter, on borrowed time. And her intent? To make sure she’s not left to rot in a medical room where she’s useless, gathering dust: “Put even more danger upon my share”. You know you are dealing with a seriously terrifying and strong person when they can confidently tell you (and have verifiably, so far, done as much) that even if it’s just a shell of her former self out there, she can and will never stop doing exactly what she’s good at, because otherwise, at that point, she truly has left the world.

#arknights #specter #shark thoughts this night #3 am gn

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starcrossedreaders · 2 years ago

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Your Late Night Ramen was so cute! I was wondering if you do angst? Like either Leon’s Girlfriend or Leon himself is extremely injured or on deaths door type of angst??

And if you do something with this is it alright if I draw a scene??

Please and thank you💖💖💖

Authors Note: I have never written angst before so hopefully you enjoy it. Please Please Please draw anything from my fics, you have full creative freedom! If you do draw a scene from this one please tag me in it. Enjoy <3 P.S This fic is very inspired by the song I Really Want to Stay at Your House by Rosa Walton.

Warnings: Mentions of Leon dying, arguments, crying, mentions of surgery

Pacing your living room was not how you planned to spend your Saturday night. Your partner of 3 years was finally coming home from his 4-day mission in Spain. You and Leon had been through many tribulations together, thick and thin, but this last argument felt like it would be your last. And of course, it had happened the night he left for his mission.

"So I'm just supposed to spend another two weeks reading in between your lines? Leon, I miss you all the time!"

"You're not listening to me Y/N! I can't disclose that type of information to you!" All you could see was red, as your ears burned and your hands shook.

Pointing at Leon you rose your voice, "No NO, I don't think you're listening to ME, Leon! All I want to know is if you'll be safe and make it home in one piece," You and Leon had met during the nightmare of Raccoon City. You had been holding off your own in the police station trying to help the injured officers when Leon came barreling in.

After it, Leon offered to take you out to dinner, which is where things really hit off for your guys. Sitting in his car the clock just hit 11:30 and you were figuring out what to do next.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Leon lolled his head to the side to look at you.

"Hm, There's a party soon, do you wanna go?"

"Sounds good to me," Leon had put the car in gear and followed your shitty directions to the house party your friend was throwing.

A few drinks later you guys had ended up on an isolated back road in the back of Leon's car with you on top of him. A few lazy kisses had led to frantic thrusts.

"Ngh fuck," His hips slammed into yours one last time as he planted his hot seed in the condom he had on. The car windows were fogged up and heavy panting could be heard throughout the car.

A heartbeat later you placed your hand on Leon's jaw, "I don't want to go, Leon," a light blush dusted your cheeks as he slowly pulled out, groaning at the sensation.

"Fuck, then what do you want to do?"

"I really want to stay at your house."

That blissful night was on repeat during your latest argument, "Do you know how much you broke me apart? I'm done with you, I'm ignoring you. I don't want to know," You slapped your hands to the side of your thighs. You were quick to turn around and walk out of the apartment. The walls shook as you slammed the door.

This is how your fights tended to go, one of you says something that hurts the other and they walk out for the night. In the morning breakfast would be made and you guys would talk rationally and fix the problem.

The morning after the argument you had come home to an empty house with no signs of your lover. The events of last night replayed in your head, and you realized how much you truly fucked up.

The days leading up to you pacing your living home had been miserable. You had spent them in your shared bed replaying every memory you and Leon had made. Sure, your arguments really dragged you guys down but you had tried to focus on bettering yourselves.

The clock above the pantry had struck 1:00 am and your phone that was laying on the coffee table began to vibrate. Who would be calling you at this hour? Picking up your phone the caller ID was private but a verified number. Answering the phone you lifted it to your ear to hear a women's voice.

Tiredness laced her voice as she spoke to you, "Hello, I'm Dr.Smith calling from the DSO medical department, I apologize for such a late call but your name and number were listed on Leon S. Kennedy's emergency contact list, am I currently speaking to Y/N Y/L?" Your mind began to race 100 miles per hour at all the possibilities as to why Leon would be seeing a doctor so late.

You cleared the knot from your throat as you answered, "This is she. May I ask what happened,"

"Ah yes, unfortunately, while Leon was on his mission he encountered something that pushed him way past his limits. He had called for help, but by the time they got there, he was in critical condition. We had to put him in a medically induced coma. I was calling to speak about care options for him,"

No, no no no no. All of your nightmares were coming true and you didn't know how to process it. Of course, you guys had to separate on a bad note, you hadn't even told him you loved him. Gods, what if you never tell him again. What if you can never feel the bed dip when he silently joins you. What if you guys can never go on your Friday dinners at the diner downtown. What if you can never take goofy pictures with him to frame them around your shared home. What if you guys don't get married, or have kids, or- "Y/N? Are you still there?"

Anxiety barreled through your veins as your tried to steady your breaths. "Uh. yes yes, would it be possible for me to come there now to discuss this?"

"Yes, of course, I will warn the guards about your arrival and we can meet in the lobby,"

"Thank you so much, Dr. Smith, I'll see you soon." You have never raced to get your shoes on faster, let alone drive upward to 90 mph in a 45.

Your normal 25-minute commute was shortened to 10. You had basically parked your car in-between two lines. You couldn't care any less, so what you get a ticket, your boyfriend was knocking on deaths door.

You ran across the parking lot tripping up the sidewalk when you finally made it to the door. The guard on the night shift was scarily alert at the late hour.

"Ma'am you can't be here at this hour please leave," his voice was stern and fit his massive build very well. He was at least a foot taller than you with super broad shoulders and arms that could crush a watermelon with one hand.

You were still out of breath as you panted out a response, "W-what? Dr.Smith said she would w-warn you about me coming. Sir, it's very important,"

"Ma'am I'm only going to ask one more tim-"

Dr.Smith cracked the front door open and stuck half of her body out. "That's enough, she's with me,"

"Come on Y/N," She was stunning, and her blue eyes had bags under them that made it very obvious on her pale skin. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun that more or less looked like a huge knot on her head. That made you cringe when thinking about trying to undo it.

Walking through the lobby all you could do was drop your jaw, this building was huge, but so so pretty. When you made it to the middle of the lobby you could look up and see all of the floors make a huge spiral.

"This way Ms.L/N," Dr.Smith led you down a hall on the left, you guys took a few turns before you made it to the hospital wing. 4 turns later you guys had made it to the ICU unit. Leon's room was the first on the left side.

"He has been under for 2 days now so hopefully he will be up soon,"

"You mean to tell me that he has been here for 2 days are you guys just now informing of me of his condition?" All you could see was red, you could have been here sooner to get him back home sooner.

"It's...difficult to explain," All you could do was scoff as she opened to door to his room.

The world had gone still, all you could hear was the steady beat of the heart monitor. Many wires and IVs were connected to his body, all of them having a different purpose you had no idea what they did. His face was very pale. Rushing to his bed you had moved his ash blonde hair out of his face and cupped his cheek. His skin was clammy, or maybe it was your own hands, you didn't know. All you knew was that Leon was barely holding on.

"There's a lot of internal damage that we could undergo surgery for him, but his chance of survival is slim to none, or we can let it be, and he can peacefully pa-"

"NO! No, no... H-How? how much will it be?"

"Due to Leon's line of work it would be paid in full," The words floated to your ears but they didn't compute in your head. All you could think about it how you might never be able to tell him how sorry you are, how much you love him, how much you need him.

"I'll give you some time." Once you heard the door click shut your bottom lip began to quiver and your body shook. You pressed your forehead into Leon's arm and you let it all out.

"I-I'm so-so-sorry, Leon," You heaved in a breath of air but ended up choking on it.

"Ple-please don't leave me," A few minutes later you finally took a deep breath as your lifted your head up from his arm. You laughed a little as you wiped your tears away from Leon's arm.

"So, what do you wanna do, what's your point of view? Do you think you can handle the surgery?" Silence filled the room, it was like you were talking to yourself. You wish he would just wake up so he can help you make a decision.

"I'm sorry Leon, I wanted to get away. Just another way to feel what I didn't want myself to know and let myself go. I know, you didn't lose your self-control like I did. Let's start at the rainbow," You really hoped that he could hear what you had to say, hear that you wanted to start new with him, and fix the problems that we have yet to address.

Your hand slid into his cold, clammy hand and squeezed it. A light knock was heard on the thick door before it clicked open.

"So, have you made a decision? I'm not trying to rush you but the faster we get him into the operating room the better chance he has at surviving,"

Taking a deep breath in you squeezed his hand one more time before you turned to her. "We're going to try the surgery." Dr.Smith said a few things before she left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut you could feel slight pressure in the hand that was holding Leon's hand. You whipped your head towards it before you could feel the squeeze again.

Authors note: Part two maybe?!?!?! Sorry for taking so long to post this, the internal warn with this writing was so real but it's out and I hope you love it.

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thelastspeecher · 3 months ago

Text

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 4: Transitions, Part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 AO3

You may have noticed this is a "part one". Well, @elishevart and I were working on Chapter 4, and then realized partway through we'd have to split it into two. And by the time we finished, we realized we'd have to split it into three. So keep an eye out for the next two chapters!

——————————————————————————————

“You’re making pancakes wrong,” Stan said to Angie. Angie pointed the spatula at him.

“You don’t get to have an opinion on this. You ain’t cooked a single meal since ya moved in.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know how to cook anything except for breakfast!”

“The pancakes ‘re perfectly fine!” Angie snapped, gesturing to the stack cooling on a plate on the counter. Stan picked up the mason jar full of dried crickets Angie kept by the stove.

“You put bugs in them!”

“Only in Stanford’s!”

Ford tuned out Stan and Angie’s bickering as he chewed his final bite of cricket chip pancakes. He idly played with the new blue streak in his hair and sighed.

Now that Stan had officially moved in and wanted input on how things were run in the house, he was constantly butting heads with Angie. It seemed like the only time they weren’t arguing was when they were sleeping. Though Ford walked past Angie’s room the night before. She talked in her sleep almost every night, but last night, her sleeptalking had been a rehashing of an argument she’d had with Stan earlier that day.

The phone rang. Ford swallowed the last of his breakfast and stood up.

“I’ll answer that,” he said to Stan and Angie. Whether they heard him or not was up in the air. He sighed and walked into the living room. He picked up the phone. “This is Stanford Pines.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Pines,” said a voice Ford recognized. “This is Dr. Roberts from the Gravity Falls Pet Clinic. Is Angie there? We got the last of the results for Tubbs.” Ford closed his eyes.

Fantastic. He leaned against the wall.

“Angie and I share ownership of Tubbs,” he said. “You can tell me the results and I’ll pass it on to her.”

“Really? Let me check here…” There was some rustling. “Yes, your name is on the paperwork as well. All right, I can tell you. Everything on his bloodwork seemed normal, other than a strange high amount of silver, which could cause some neurological issues. When we drew some more blood during the appointment to remove his cast, however, the silver was gone.”

“I see…” Ford mumbled.

Silver, huh? Perhaps that could be related to why I took so long to return to human form.

“The x-ray looked fine other than his broken leg. On the ultrasound, though, we found something interesting,” the vet continued. Ford straightened, suddenly curious. “Tubbs was sexed as male, and he does have testes. However, he also has ovaries.” Ford’s jaw dropped.

“What?!” he shouted. The bickering from the kitchen stopped.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine. It’s surprisingly common for amphibians to have both male and female reproductive organs.”

“Will- is- can he-” Ford stammered. He was too terrified of the answer for the question to fully leave his mouth. However, the vet understood what he was unintentionally dancing around.

“I suspect that he could both fertilize eggs and lay fertilized eggs himself,” the vet said. Ford slumped against the wall. “I won’t know for sure without running some more tests.”

“There’s no need for that,” Ford said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Though…can I come by to pick up some printouts of the test results?”

“Of course! Bring some ID so that we can verify your identity.”

The security at the vet is higher than some doctor’s offices I’ve been to.

“Understood,” Ford said.

“Great! We’ll see you in a bit when you come to get the results, then!”

“Yes.” Ford hung up the phone. Someone cleared their throat. Ford looked over. Angie and Stan stood in the entryway that led to the kitchen, watching him curiously.

“What was that about?” Stan asked.

“Oh, uh, the doctor called with the results of my medical tests.”

“You mean the vet called,” Stan said. Angie elbowed him roughly. Stan winced. He looked down at her with a scowl. “You’re so bony it’s like you fucking stabbed me!”

“Oh, hush,” Angie snapped. She turned to Ford. “Did they have some concerns? The way ya shouted, it sounded like ya were spooked by somethin’.”

“No, not really,” Ford said quickly. Judging by the expressions on Stan and Angie’s faces, they didn’t buy it. “Apparently my bloodwork showed significant levels of silver. That was what took me by surprise. I suspect that may be the reason I was unable to return to human form for so long.” Stan still didn’t look convinced, but the doubt on Angie’s face faded somewhat. “I’m going to go to the office to pick up the test results to look them over myself.”

“You might be able to find somethin’ related to bein’ stuck fer days as a salamander,” Angie said. Ford nodded, seizing the lie. “Be polite to the folks at the vet, okay? They don’t know any of what yer goin’ through, so lashin’ out at ‘em would be completely pointless.”

“Of course,” Ford said firmly. “I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Hey, uh, while you’re out and about,” Stan said cheerfully, “maybe pick up some chocolate chips? That way Angie can make some decent pancakes?” Angie elbowed him again. “Oof!” Ford grabbed the keys to the pickup.

�� “I’ll see what I can do,” he said dryly.

-----

The clock on the oven declared that it was past midnight. Ford rifled through the pages of Tubbs’s medical results under the soft yellow glow of the kitchen light. When he arrived at the vet, they had happily handed everything over to him, even taking the time to annotate the results, labeling structures on the x-ray and ultrasound, pointing out what levels were healthy for the various analytes in his bloodwork.

I didn’t expect to need their notes, but I clearly overestimated my ability to read medical results. Ford frowned at one of the ultrasound images. I would have no idea what I was looking at if they hadn’t labeled it.

“Yer up late,” a soft voice said. Ford jerked in surprise, one of the ultrasound pictures falling to the floor. The speaker, Angie, walked over and picked it up. Ford’s heart began to race.

“Well, uh, I could say the same about you,” he managed weakly. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

“I did. I got up to get a glass of water.”

“Ah.” Ford held out a hand. “Don’t let my late night studying delay you.” His heart sank. Angie wasn’t giving him the page. She was looking down at it with a small frown. “Angie, that is my private medical information.”

“Is this why ya got so worked up durin’ the phone call earlier?” she asked quietly. “And why you were actin’ a bit off the rest of the day?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re-” Ford stammered. Angie placed the page on the table, image up. Painfully visible red marker circled and labeled “Ovaries” and “Testes” on the picture.

“It ain’t uncommon fer this sort of thing to happen in what we call ‘lower vertebrates’,” Angie said. “Amphibians are included in that group. Though I mostly hear ‘bout it in frogs, rather than salamanders.”

“By ‘this sort of thing’, you mean…”

“Havin’ both ovaries and testes,” Angie said flatly. Ford closed his eyes. “This ain’t somethin’ to be ashamed of!”

“How?” Ford snapped. “How could I not be ashamed?”

“Look.” Angie sat at the table across from Ford. “This happens! In humans! Non-cursed humans! I learned ‘bout it in school. Durin’ egg production, sperm production, fertilization, gestation, sometimes development goes left when it was s’pposed to go right. Folks wind up with reproductive systems or- or sex hormones outside the norm.” Angie smiled. “It’s just another way of bein’.”

“I suppose you would have a less negative viewpoint of this, given where you’re from,” Ford muttered. Angie’s smile faded.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“Abnormalities and disorders are common in isolated rural communities.” A shadow crossed Angie’s face.

“That was uncalled for,” she said in a low tone. “All’s I’m doin’ is tryin’ to comfort ya!”

“Maybe I don’t want comfort!”

“You want to wallow?”

“Perhaps,” Ford said tartly, fully aware that he was purposefully being contrary at this point.

“Lord above.” Angie rubbed her eyes wearily. “This don’t change anything. It ain’t like ya were plannin’ on reproducin’ in yer cute salamander form anyways.”

“What about my human form?” Ford asked. Angie frowned at him. “The axolotl I spoke to at the pet store told me even when I appear human, I’m still an amphibian. Does that mean I-” Ford swallowed. He hugged his sides, choking out the words with difficulty. “Does that mean I have ovaries right now?” he croaked weakly. Angie stared at him. After a moment, she sighed.

“I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair. “And…I know ya don’t want to hear this, but it’s a possibility, so I have to get it out there. You never had an ultrasound ‘fore ya got cursed. It’s possible you’ve always been like this and didn’t know.”

“Yes,” Ford said quietly. “That is a very real possibility. Polydactyly sometimes is tied to genetic disorders, after all. My doctor tested me for everything he could think of when I was a child. But it’s possible something was missed.”

“That- I weren’t tryin’ to tie it to yer polydactyly,” Angie said, sounding impatient. “I told ya, folks what have no symptoms can discover their reproductive systems developed in a weird way durin’ a routine exam or puberty or when they’re strugglin’ to have children.” Ford nodded. “The way I see this sit’ation is that we ain’t quite reached the bridge we need to cross yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, this don’t change anything,” Angie said. Her tone had eased from irritated to gentle. “If ya start, I don’t know, developin’ breasts or experiencin’ weird hormonal swings, we’ll deal with it then. If ya want to have a child with someone and are strugglin’ to conceive, we’ll deal with it then. Those are the bridges we’ll cross. But we ain’t reached ‘em.” Ford let Angie’s words sink in for a few moments. He nodded slowly.

“You are correct. We have new data, but nothing it can be used for yet.” He slumped on the table, resting his head on his arm as he idly picked up another note.

“Exactly.” Angie yawned, politely covering her mouth while it was open. “And I know how ya work, so please don’t try to sneak somewhere with an ultrasound to get yourself checked out in human form. Ya won’t be able to operate the dang thing right and I’ll just have to bail ya out of jail.” Ford managed a small smile.

“Noted.” Angie yawned again. “Angie, you look exhausted.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes, but you’ve been looking tired in the middle of the day as well,” Ford pushed. Angie shrugged. “I think you may be slipping into bad habits and pushing yourself too hard.” Angie rolled her eyes as he closed his own. “I recognize it is slightly hypocritical of me.”

“It is,” Angie said. She shifted in her seat and looked away. “But…I have been feelin’ a bit like a cub scout den mother tryin’ to manage both you and Stan.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Since yer back to yer normal self, I’d appreciate ya doin’ more stuff ‘round the house. Maybe wrangle Stan every now and then.” Angie yawned for a third time. “All right. I’ve got to get back to bed. I’ll talk to ya in the mornin’.” She got up from the table. She clumsily exited the kitchen, bumping into the doorjamb on her way out. Guilt formed a painful pit in Ford’s stomach.

She really has been acting as our manager for far too long. A yawn escaped from him. I should go to bed as well. Ford began to gather up the paperwork. I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to Angie for all her help. Perhaps I can purchase a gift of some sort for her.

-----

“I can’t believe he brought us here.”

“I can’t believe he suggested it.”

Ford cleared his throat, drawing Stan and Angie’s attention.

“Well, we have been cooped up in the house and more importantly I was stuck in my tank for most of last week, so an outing seemed appropriate. Besides...” He turned to Angie. “I thought we all could use the distraction.”

Angie nodded knowingly. To Ford’s relief, the bags under her eyes weren’t as prominent as they had been a few days ago. After their discussion in the kitchen, he had decided to seek out an activity to improve her mood and energy. Thankfully, he stumbled across this activity the three of them could enjoy, a town over.

“Yeah, but why a zoo?” asked Stan as they stepped toward the archway entrance.

“It’s actually a sanctuary for unwanted animals,” Ford explained. “The animals here are generally exotic pets that the owner couldn’t take care of, old circus or zoo animals, and rescued wild animals that couldn’t be released after being healed.”

“Why not an amusement park? Or a fair? Or even, I don’t know, the lake?”

“Are ya serious?” sighed Angie.

“What? It could- oh right. Yeah, after you got nabbed there, the lake might not be a great idea.” Stan looked away, scratching the back of his neck. Ford walked up to him and patted his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. I admit that I might, ah, not yet be ready for the lake, but what happened is in the past.” He offered a reassuring smile. Stan returned the expression. Angie stood on her tiptoes to swing her arms across the twins’ shoulders, a grin of her own spread across her face.

“Then let’s get going, boys!” she exclaimed as she gently pushed them toward the entrance.

-----

The start of the sanctuary visit went smoothly. They began with the big outdoor animals. The place was clean and had undergone a recent makeover, as a volunteer explained to them. The enclosures holding the animals they oohed and ahhed at were now bigger and offered more stimulation and enrichment.

There was a bit of everything. Raccoons and skunks that people thought would make great pets. A bobcat that had been caught in a trap and lost a leg. An old retired elephant. A trio of young brown bears whose mother had sadly perished a few months prior. A pond with crocodiles that made a voice in Ford’s head tell him to stay clear. They were even given the opportunity to feed some of the giraffes and birds.

Ford couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Angie this happy and excited. He smiled at his friend, then glanced at his twin. Stan too had a broad smile and a spark in his eye. A spark that Ford recalled well from when they were younger. He smiled back and kept walking with them.

Everything was going great. The trio was headed to the final stop of the tour: the reptile room. Angie’s smile got twice as big as she rushed for the door. Both twins were right behind her.

As soon as Ford crossed the double doors, he was assaulted by an onslaught of tiny voices talking all at the same time.

“Food! Dislike strangers. Want water. Too cold. Too hot. Sleepy. Bored. Like strangers. Strangers fun! Look at me! Don’t look! Look! Look! Sad. Happy!”

Stanford looked for the crowd of people that clearly had to be in the reptile room. But he, Stan, and Angie were the only ones there. All he could see were the many aquariums housing reptiles and amphibians. His ears started to ring. A muffled voice came from his left.

“Ford, are you all right?”

He spun around to see his companions watching him with worried expressions on their faces.

“How are you so calm?” he asked. “Can you not hear it?” His own voice felt distant and overshadowed by everything around him.

“Hear what?” asked Stan. Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the voices were increasing in volume, overwhelming him. He covered his ears in vain. His breath came in and out faster, on the brink of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes, trying to reduce some of the stimulus overtaking him.

“Oh my gosh! Stanley, help me get him out of here now!” Angie shouted.

Soon, Ford felt two hands on his arms guiding him somewhere. He was too overcome to fight as he was led away. Fresh air hit his face. Ford opened his eyes. They were outside. The cacophony of voices was slowly starting to die down. Stan lowered him to the ground, his back leaning against a wall.

“All right, Sixer, deep breaths, take it easy,” said his twin as Ford gasped for air. Stan rubbed slow circles on Ford’s back, but despite their close proximity, he still sounded distant. “What happened back there?” Ford shook his head, unable to say anything. Thankfully, Angie spoke up.

“A few weeks ago when we went to a pet store, he talked with an axolotl there,” she said. “I’m guessin’ he heard all those critters in there. All at once. Which would be a lot. Am I right, Stanford?”

“I believe so,” Ford croaked. He could feel bile rising in his throat and swallowed to keep it down.

Another “fantastic perk” of my…condition. After a few minutes of breathing in the fresh outdoor air, Ford had calmed enough to regain control.

“How are ya feelin’?” asked Angie. Ford glanced up to see his friend looking at him, her blue eyes filled with worry.

“Drained and exhausted.” Stanford sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode.”

��All right, I think we’re gonna cut our trip short,” declared Stan. He lifted Ford’s arm, helping him back to his feet. “Come on, Ford, let’s get you home.”

“And get ya somethin’ to drink when we get there,” Angie added. Stan looked at her with interest. Angie rolled her eyes. “I was referrin’ to water, not alcohol.” Stan rolled his eyes right back at her.

Ford grumbled, upset to be leaving so soon, but obeyed, even as his legs threatened to buckle at any moment. Stan supported him as they slowly trekked back to the car. When they got to the car, Ford leaned heavily against it until Stan unlocked the doors, then crawled into the back seat.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“About what?” Angie asked as she sat next to him.

“I ruined our outing because of my…episode.”

“Don’t worry, Sixer,” Stan said with a shrug. “It could have happened to anyone.” He turned the engine on and slowly drove them away.

No, it couldn’t. Ford leaned his head on his hand and watched the scenery pass by. Only my curse could have ruined such a perfect outing.

-----

The light of the first full moon since Stan had come to stay lit a path for Ford to follow home. There was a bounce in his step as he walked. He had heard about the legendary underground black market for magical creatures in Gravity Falls, called the Crawlspace. In fact, it was one of the first things he learned about the magical creature culture when he started his research. But humans were not allowed, and the ban was strictly enforced. Now, however? He had been able to locate the market and walk in without a problem.

And I finally got Angie that gift she deserves. It, along with something Ford had purchased for himself, was nestled snugly in a crossbody bag Angie had given him before he left for the Crawlspace. Ford was nervous about trying the potion he’d got for himself. Though part of me is excited to see what it will do. Ford arrived at the house. He opened the front door.

“Hello?” he called tentatively. The Stanmobile wasn’t in the driveway, so Stan was presumably out. But Angie was more of a homebody, so she wasn’t likely to have left with Stan.

“I’m in the living room!” Angie’s voice called. He walked into the house and made his way to the living room. Angie was sitting on the couch reading a book. As Ford approached, he could make out the title: Journey to the Center of the Earth.

“Why are you up late reading Jules Verne?” Ford asked. Angie chuckled. She patted the couch cushion next to her. Ford climbed up.

“I’m actually quite the fan of science fiction,” she said, sounding almost shy.

“I had no idea. I always see you reading field guides or other informative literature.”

“That’s fer research. Lately, I’ve been too busy to read fer reg’lar enjoyment. I decided to get some fun readin’ done while Stan was out of the house.” Angie slid a bookmark into the novel and set it aside. “Did ya find the watchacallit?”

“The Crawlspace?” Ford asked, amused. Angie nodded. “Yes, I did!”

“Oh, excellent!” Angie clapped her hands. “Did ya enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, it was most informative,” Ford gushed. Angie beamed at him. “I’m glad to have finally found a silver lining for the thundercloud that is my curse.” Angie stroked the top of Ford’s head.

“I knew you’d find a benefit somewhere.” A twinkle entered Angie’s eye. “Since it’s a market, did ya do some shoppin’?”

“Yes.” Ford smiled at Angie. “And yes, the bag you gave me came in handy. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” Angie leaned in. “What did ya buy?”

“I’ll show you!” Ford opened the bag and took out the two potions. They were in nearly identical dark green bottles, as Ford had procured them from the same seller. But Ford knew which one was which. He handed over the one he had purchased for Angie. “This is for you.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to get me anything!”

“Yes, I did,” Ford said firmly. “You have been a rock as of late. This is the least I can do.” Angie smiled.

“Thank you.” Angie looked down at the label, written in the language of the magical creatures. “Uh, what is it?”

“It relieves muscle aches and cramps,” Ford said.

“Oh, that’s perfect, I been strugglin’ with that,” Angie said softly.

“It’s also apparently a sleeping elixir. It should give you peaceful, dreamless sleep,” Ford continued. Angie set the potion by her book and wrapped her arms around Ford.

“Honey, that’s exactly what I need right now, thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Ford said, returning the hug. Angie squeezed him, then let go. “You should get some rest.”

“I don’t know.” Angie looked over in the direction of the front door. “Stan ain’t back yet.”

“I’ll stay up for him.” Ford patted Angie’s hand. “Go to bed.” Angie chuckled softly.

“All right, all right.” Angie kissed the top of Ford’s head. “I’m goin’ to try this here potion out and get some shut-eye.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Angie got up from the couch and departed for her room, leaving her book behind. Ford pulled his potion out of the bag. He stared at it.

No. I should wait. After a moment, he shrugged and picked up Angie’s book, opening it to the first page. The font was maddeningly blurry with his poor amphibious eyesight. …Never mind. Ford looked around, spotted the TV remote on the back of the couch, and grabbed it. Television it is.

-----

“Is the coffee done yet?” Stan asked tiredly. He yawned. “I really need a cuppa.”

“It should be ready soon,” Ford replied, stifling a yawn of his own. He was feeling the effects of his late night. “Is Angie still asleep?”

“Dunno.” Stan stretched. The motion pulled the edge of his T-shirt up past his belly button. “If she is, that’s weird. She’s usually up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Yes, well, she comes from a farming family,” Ford mumbled. Stan grunted wordlessly. There was a shout from upstairs. Stan and Ford locked eyes. “That came from Angie’s room.”

“But that wasn’t Angie,” Stan said. “That was a guy.” A second passed. The twins abruptly bolted from the kitchen, coffee forgotten. They sprinted up the stairs to the attic. A strange man stood in front of Angie’s mirror and dresser, staring at his reflection. He looked at the two. Ford came to a stop. The man looked eerily familiar.

“Fiddleford?” Ford asked. The man, panic in his eyes, looked over at the mirror again as though not familiar with his reflection.

“I- I reckon I look awful sim’lar to him,” the man said in a quavering, heavily accented voice. “But I-” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Stan slamming him against the wall. “What in the sam hill-”

“Who are you?” Stan snarled.

“I’m-”

“What did you do with Angie?”

“What?” the man asked, sounding both perplexed and terrified. Ford glanced over at the dresser. A dark green bottle sat next to Angie’s moisturizer and sunscreen. Ford frowned. He picked it up.

“I’ll ask a second time, but I won’t ask a third,” Stan ground out. “Where. Is. Angie?”

“I’d tell ya if ya let me get a word in edgewise!” the man snapped. Ford read the label on the bottle, his mouth silently forming the words. He felt the blood drain from his face.

“Talk faster, then!” Stan shouted.

“Stan,” Ford croaked. Stan looked over. “Stan, leave him alone.”

“But-”

“Come here. You need to read this,” Ford said firmly. Stan shot a glare at the man, but let him go. He stalked over to Ford. Ford held out the bottle. Stan squinted at the label.

“What the hell does this say and what does it have to do with some guy in Angie’s room?” Stan asked.

“I forgot you couldn’t read the language of magical creatures,” Ford mumbled. He adjusted his glasses. “This is a potion I purchased in the Crawlspace last night. One of two, actually. I bought one for Angie as a pain and cramp reliever. I bought the second one to, ah, study at home.”

“Which one is this one?” Stan asked.

“Not the one I intended to give Angie.”

“So it’s not to help with pain,” Stan said. Ford shook his head. “What does it do?” Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “Stanford,” Stan said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice, “what potion did you give her?”

“It- it purports to be a, ah, transformative elixir,” Ford stammered. “It can transform men into women.” He winced. “And it can also do the reverse.” Stan and Ford looked at the strange man. The man blushed, his entire face beet red. He was wearing Angie’s typical choice of pajamas: an old T-shirt and athletic shorts. Though he was holding up the athletic shorts, as they were loose on his narrow hips.

“…Angie?” Stan asked. The man somehow turned even redder.

“Y-yes,” he squeaked out. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Holy Moses, Sixer. You turned her into a guy!”

“I know, I-” Ford started. He took a deep breath. “I must have mixed up the bottles. My vision in my other form is too poor to make out small lettering.” He looked at Angie. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” Angie nodded. “Get dressed, then you can meet us downstairs.” Angie glanced over at his closet doubtfully. “Ah, get dressed as well as you can.”

“We’ll get you something to fit you better later,” Stan added. He shot Ford a look. “Ford’s paying.” Ford resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“S-sounds good,” Angie mumbled. He cleared his throat. “K-kindly leave so’s I can, uh, get- get ready ‘n whatnot.”

“Yes, of course,” Ford said with a nod. He grabbed Stan and pulled his twin downstairs. When they got to the ground floor, Stan looked back up the stairs, a pensive expression on his face. “What?”

“Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?” Stan asked softly. Ford thought back to the brief glimpses he’d gotten earlier. His ears grew warm.

No, it’s not just him.

-----

“I still can’t believe you turned Angie into a guy,” Stan muttered as he flipped a pancake on the stove. Ford sighed.

“It was an accident and I’m incredibly distressed this happened as well.” There was a polite cough. Stan and Ford looked over. Angie stood in the doorway. While his shirt was the appropriate size, if fitting oddly, the jeans he wore were a few inches too short and loose around the hips, needing a belt. “We need to get you some new clothes.” Angie’s face fell.

“I’m guessin’ that means ya won’t be able to get me back to normal any time soon,” he said softly. While lower than before, his voice was still higher than average for a man, and had a melodic lilt to it, likely due to his accent.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ford confirmed. Angie sighed and sat next to him at the table. Ford silently noted, to his amusement, that despite Angie’s visible distress, he had made sure to follow his regular morning hygiene routine, with his face clean and his hair carefully styled. “I looked more closely at the label and instructions. You drank enough of the potion to keep you in this form for three days.” Angie stared at him.

“Three days?!”

“Don’t worry,” Ford said quickly, holding up his hands. “I’ll return to the Crawlspace tonight and speak to the seller. He may have something to reverse the effects of the potion early.”

“I’m comin’ with.”

“Humans aren’t allowed.”

“I can wear some of those Star Trek ears ya got in yer closet and pretend to be an elf,” Angie scoffed. “Maybe throw some pixie dust over me to get that supernatural sparkle.” Stan snorted. Ford frowned.

“I suppose that could work. But why do you want to come?”

“Ya mixed stuff up from yer bad axolotl vision. I don’t want to risk another mixup.”

“Ah.” Ford shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “…Fair.” Angie sighed.

“I weren’t tryin’ to hurt yer feelin’s…”

“No, I’m- I’m fine,” Ford said quickly. Angie gave him a look that suggested he didn’t buy it. Stan cleared his throat.

“By the way,” he drawled, “I heard the toilet flush.” Angie covered his face with his hands. “Whattaya think of the new…equipment?”

“You don’t need to answer that,” Ford said quickly.

“Oh, I weren’t plannin’ on it,” Angie said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Stanley, ya can’t just ask someone that!”

“Aw, come on. We’re all guys here!”

“Stan…” Ford said in a warning tone.

“Fine, fine. I’ll shut up.” Stan placed a plate of pancakes in front of Angie. “Eat up, Angie,” he said. He frowned. “Uh. Should we call you something else until you’re back to normal?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Angie said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It- it feels awful odd to be referred to as Angie when I’m, um, this.”

“Banjo, perhaps?” Ford suggested. Angie nodded slowly.

“I like it.” Angie- Banjo looked at Stan with a frown. “Somethin’ wrong?” Stan was watching with a frown of his own.

“Why the hell did Ford suggest Banjo and why the fuck did you agree to it?”

“Oh, that’s right, I ain’t told ya what Angie is short fer yet,” Banjo said.

“I thought it was short for Angela.”

“No. It’s short fer Banjolina,” Banjo said, beginning to cut up one of his pancakes. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“What the hell kinda name is Banjolina?”

“A McGucket one,” Ford and Banjo said together. Banjo shot a grin at Ford. Ford felt butterflies in his stomach.

Oh, no. Please don’t let this be a pattern.

-----

Banjo laughed goodnaturedly.

“No, I ain’t wearin’ the hat!” he said, playfully shoving Stan.

“C’mon!” Stan wheedled. “I paid for it with my own money! You’ve gotta wear it!”

“I believe I was the one to pay for it,” Ford said. Stan rolled his eyes.

“You pay me, so I paid for it.”

“That’s not how it-” Ford cut himself off, shaking his head. “Stop bothering Banjo.”

“He’s laughing, he’s having a good time.”

“I ain’t annoyed, Stanford,” Banjo said. “I’ll let Stanley know if I reach that point.”

“Hmph. Very well,” Ford muttered. After breakfast, they went shopping for clothes for Banjo. At first, Banjo insisted that they spend as little time as possible out and about while he was in his current form. But once he was wearing clothes that fit him, he calmed down significantly, even allowing Stan to talk him into going out for lunch and walking around Main Street after. Now, Stan was desperately trying to convince Banjo to wear the cowboy hat he had Ford purchase a few minutes ago.

I didn’t even realize there was a western store in town. But they had passed it while walking down Main Street, and when Banjo slowed down to admire the clothing in the display window, Ford insisted they go inside and find something for him. I feel like I need to make up for what happened. Though he seems remarkably unperturbed by this experience. A tendril of frustration began to uncurl in Ford’s gut. Why is he so blasé?

“You already got me to wear the cowboy boots,” Banjo said.

“But your jeans completely cover them up!” Stan protested.

“You should’ve considered that when ya told me to wear ‘em now,” Banjo retorted with a grin. Stan huffed. Banjo tossed his head, laughing. His caramel-colored hair bounced from the movement, drawing Ford’s eye. It was agonizing how much Banjo resembled Fiddleford.

I didn’t realize how much I missed F until I was reminded of him every time Banjo did something. Hopefully, the painful reminders would slow, now that Banjo was dressed. His fashion sense was different from Fiddleford’s, other than the same predilection for flared jeans. At the moment, Banjo was wearing a green flannel shirt with a simple orange undershirt. A far cry from F’s flamboyant tops.

“I reckon we should head back soon,” Banjo drawled. He tucked his hands into his back pockets. “The full moon will be risin’ ‘fore we know it.”

“Please, we’ve got plenty of time,” Stan said dismissively. “I think we should go get a drink.”

“Hmm.” Banjo titled his head and smiled at Stan. “I don’t know ‘bout that. I ain’t in the mood to deal with two drunk fellers on my own.”

“You don’t drink?”

“No, I do.” Banjo’s smile broadened. “I do it very well.”

“Oh, I get it. You think you could outdrink me.”

“Wrong.” Banjo leaned in. Thanks to his new height - which he seemed very pleased with - his face was mere inches away from Stan’s. “I know I can outdrink ya.” A goofy grin spread across Stan’s face, accompanied by a faint flush. Ford recognized the expression. It was the same one Stan made every time Carla McCorkle ran her hands through his hair or kissed him on the cheek. Ford thought back to what Stan had said earlier that day.

“Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?”

Oh, no. No. Please tell me Stan isn’t developing a crush on Banjo! Sweet Moses, this could turn messy fast. For one thing, he won’t stay Banjo, he’ll return to being Angie! Ford cleared his throat. Banjo and Stan looked at him.

“I believe we have enough time to make one more stop before returning home,” he said. Stan punched the air.

“Yes! We can get wasted.”

“No, we cannot,” Ford said firmly. Stan blew a raspberry at him.

“Killjoy. What are we gonna do, then?”

“There’s a bakery a few blocks from here,” Banjo suggested. Stan perked up.

“Bakery? Hell yes!” Stan sped up his pace eagerly. Banjo chuckled. He and Ford fell into step alongside each other.

“That brother of yours is quite the character,” he said with a smile. “Luckily, he’s the kind of character I tend to be fond of.”

“Really,” Ford said flatly. With the continuation of Banjo’s casual attitude, the frustration Ford felt earlier was beginning to fester. Banjo looked at him, bemused.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“I’m just-” Ford took a steadying breath. “I’m just perplexed at how easy going you are being about- about-”

“About bein’ Banjo?” Banjo asked. He frowned. “Look, I ain’t happy ‘bout it.”

“Could have fooled me,” Ford said under his breath. Banjo ignored his comment.

“I just reckon it’d be a waste of my time ‘n energy to be overly upset,” he continued. “I can’t do anything ‘bout it right now, so why get all worked up? At least, now that I’ve had some time to adjust.” Banjo put his hands on his hips. “And what’s with that lil remark ‘bout me not seemin’ unhappy? Didn’t ya hear me shout this mornin’? Didn’t ya see how distraught I was?”

“And yet you don’t appear upset at all,” Ford said snidely. Banjo clenched his hands into fists.

“It’s called actin’, Stanford! Actin’ like I’m fine to make sure the boat don’t get rocked! It’s a skill I’ve developed while I take care of you ‘n Stanley!”

Ford scowled at him. “We don’t need babysitting,” he said shortly. Banjo stopped walking to face Stanford squarely.

“Really? Might I remind ya of the argument you and Stanley had not a month ago?” he retorted. Ford’s brow furrowed further.

“I was stuck as an axolotl for a week at that point! I had been to the vet on two separate occasions and was completely useless at home! I was getting frustrated and needed to vent!” As he spoke, his voice rose without his noticing it.

“So what’s frustratin’ ya now?! Yer not an axolotl and ya won’t be for another hour, so what’s eatin’ at ya?” Banjo’s voice was beginning to rise as well. The few passersby slowed down to stare, bewildered by the odd conversation.

“YOU are INFURIATING me!” shouted Ford. “For Pete’s sake! You’ve been a man for less then a day and are already comfortable in your new skin! You’ll be back to normal in a few days while I’ll still be cursed to be an amphibian for the rest of my damn life!”

An eerie silence circled them.

“Son of a- I’ve been cursed for half a year and I’m still uncomfortable in my second skin! I have to eat bugs! I have to sleep in water! My skin itches! I hate it! And here you are in the middle of town having the time of your life!” Ford was panting by the time he was done, looming over Banjo. Waves of heat washed inside of him, crashing against rising shame.

“Stanford?” came Stan’s voice behind him. He must have come back after he realized Ford and Banjo weren’t following him anymore.

“What?” Ford turned around to face his twin. He didn’t want to look at Banjo, not with the mist in the other man’s eyes. Stan gestured to the sides of his head.

“Um, your, uh, your gills are- are out.”

Panic washed over Ford as he raised his hands to the side of his face. He could feel the gills, six in total with three on each side, squirming. His ears were already gone. He then heard it before he could feel it. There was a pop and rip followed by a burning sensation at the base of his spine when his tail, big, round, and pink erupted. Ford fell to his hands and knees. The entirety of his body was aching and tingling.

What’s going on? The full moon hasn’t risen yet! A new worry filled Ford with horror. We’re in public! People could be watching! He looked around, but already his vision was worsening. Soon he felt his glasses slipping as his nose disappeared. From what he could make out, it appeared that only Stan and Banjo were currently present. But they were on Main Street. At any moment, someone could stumble across them.

“Banjo, what should we do?” Stan asked. Banjo stayed silent. “Banjo?”

“The two of ya can figure it out,” Banjo said, his voice thick. “I’ll meet ya back at the car.” Ford watched Banjo’s blurry figure walk away.

“...Great,” Stan sighed. He looked down at Ford on the ground. “I’m gonna, uh, move you out of the way, okay?” Ford nodded weakly. Judging by how loose his clothes had gotten, he had already shrunk to half his size. This conclusion was proven accurate when Stan picked him up and carried him into a nearby alleyway, both of them ducking behind a large dumpster. As soon as Stan dropped him to the ground, Ford fell on his side, his body continuing to morph into a new form. He struggled to his shifting feet.

“How are we going to get back to the car?” Ford asked, his voice breaking into a higher pitch. He hugged his sides and hissed through his teeth as waves of heat washed over his body. His tail curled around him, grazing his calf.

“Uh.” Stan looked around. “There’s a big box here. It looks clean enough. Once you’re done, you can climb inside and I’ll cover you with your clothes.”

“Okay.” Ford grunted as he felt his bones shift. “I really wish I wasn’t transforming in a dirty alleyway.”

“Eh, I’ve seen worse places to turn into a giant salamander,” Stan said with a shrug. He scratched his chin. “You- you really tore Banjo a new one back there. What was that about?”

Despite the pain, Stanford felt his whole body freeze in place.

“How much of the argument did you hear?”

“Only the end of it, really. Something about him having the time of his life?”

“I…” Ford sighed. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

“No shit. I figured out that much on my own,” Stan scoffed. “Why were you angry at him?”

“I’m just…frustrated. He’s doing perfectly fine right now, and I- I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan asked quietly. “You think he’s doing fine?”

“He’s joking and laughing with you.” Ford hissed as a particularly painful shift rearranged his jaw.

“Yeah, but it’s mostly anxious laughter. He’s had that scared deer look in his eyes all day. And he starts shaking if we stand still for too long. My guess, Banjo’s roughly one dropped ice cream cone away from having a nervous breakdown.” Stan looked over at Ford. “You really didn’t notice?”

“No! I- I thought he was taking his current circumstance in stride.” Ford winced, both from the pain of his transformation and the sting of just how poorly he had read Banjo’s body language. “I should have consulted you earlier. You were always better with people.”

“Eh. Neither of us have ever been good at the whole communicating thing,” Stan said. Ford sighed.

“Correct.”

“So, uh, are you done?” Stan asked. Ford moved his body tentatively. His legs, arms, head, and tail responded. The prickling that accompanied the end of his transformation had faded. And he could barely see a few inches in front of him.

“It appears that I am.” His voice was completely changed.

“Good. Step outta your clothes while I get the box.” Ford did as instructed and shimmed out of his now oversized sweater. When Stan came back with the box, he climbed inside. Stan covered him with his clothes. “Eugh, they got all slimy!”

“I produce a mucosal secretion from my skin during times of high stress,” Ford mumbled automatically. It was one of the things Angie had noted during her time studying Ford’s amphibious form before Stan joined them.

“It’s gross,” Stan said firmly. Ford felt the box rise off the ground. He curled up, his stomach churning from distress as he was carried back to the car. After a few minutes of Ford bouncing and sliding around in the box, Stan came to a stop. “Hey, Banj.”

“Banj?” Banjo’s voice said. Ford covered his eyes with his paws, overcome by guilt. Banjo’s voice was weak, as though he had just been crying.

“Short for Banjo.”

“Banjo’s already short fer my proper name.”

“Someone can have two nicknames.”

“Hmm. Fair enough,” Banjo said. Ford mustered some courage and poked his head up through the clothes. Banjo, blurry, stood a few feet away, leaning against the Stanmobile. “Hello.”

“Banjo, I-”

“I’m goin’ to act as though the last fifteen or so minutes didn’t happen,” Banjo interrupted. “At least, fer now. We’ve got to head back to the Crawlspace to see if anyone can get me back to rights.” Though Ford couldn’t see Banjo’s blue eyes, he could still feel them boring into him. “Will you agree to act that way as well?”

“Yes,” Ford squeaked pathetically. Banjo nodded. Stan unlocked the car and slid the box holding Ford into the back seat. Ford waited for Banjo to sit next to him. His heart sank as Banjo opened the passenger’s side door and sat up front with Stan instead. Even without saying a word, his change in behavior spoke volumes. Ford curled up tighter, a soft whimper escaping from him.

He’s furious. With me.

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls AU #Axolotl Ford AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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loonarkives · 3 months ago

Text

THE TAEIL SITUATION & THE NEW NTH ROOM - clearing some things up because i've seen a lot of misinformation online.

hi. i don't personally stan nct but i thought that making this post was very important to help people understand what's going on rn in SK and avoid all the bullshit that people are saying online due to misunderstanding and/or lack of better knowledge. before starting i'd like to say that this is not "taeil getting canceled". this is taeil being a fucking criminal and finally facing the consequences of his own actions.

let's get into it.

WHY DID THEY KICK HIM OUT OF NCT?

First thing first he wasn't really "kicked out", he agreed to leave the group, although apparently SM did not terminate the contract with the artist. Taeil was not being accused nor was he under investigation, he was CHARGED with a sexual offense related crime (SM did not specify what crime it was in their official statement), meaning that investigations were already carried out and enough evidence was gathered for the prosecution to file a case against him — "As we gathered the facts, we realized the seriousness of the case and decided that he could no longer continue to be a part of the team" is what SM stated in their official statement.

WHO IS THE VICTIM?

The victim can be found on Instagram as "anges_121430". On this account she tried to expose Taeil for about 6 months before his crimes came to light. She also used to handle a twitter account, created for the same purpose, but it was taken down due to (allegedly) Taeil's fans reports. People say that the victim recently turned 18 and Taeil has been molesting and harrassing her for 6 years, so since she was 12. There is no evidence to support this statement. No age was officially specified by the police. Some people on twitter said that it might be a mistranslation/misinterpretation of "18년" which appeared in the police report and means "year" (not "age"!!! please correct me if i'm wrong) suggesting that it started in 2018. Also beware because since SM's official statement there have been A LOT of fake screenshots going around. Of course i'm not sure that all of them are fake but make sure to carefully verify what you choose to believe, because spreading false info is very harmful to the victim and might result into a lack of credibility.

WERE THE OTHER NCT MEMBERS INVOLVED?

We can't be sure. As far as we're aware they were not, but this is a very delicate subject and we basically have no knowledge about it. While it might be suspicious that in a company with hundreds if not thousands of employees nobody knew for 6 years, i can tell you that it is possible for family members and close friends to hide their crimes and true identity from you for YEARS. I'm not gonna tell you to keep stanning nct and act like nothing happened, that is up to you and it's none of my business. I can however advice you to wait until the police comes forward with more evidence that proves the involvement of other members while continuing to treat them with some sort of sceptical attitude.

WHAT IS THE NTH ROOM?

So, a few years back the south korean police discovered a telegram room with thousands of members who shared intimate photos, sensitive information and revenge p0rn videos of women they knew, and it was rumored to have about 200 (if i'm not mistaken) male celebrities and politicians. The room was closed as soon as it was discovered but a new one was created - and it is the one we're dealing with right now. This room has far more participants (about 220.000 men, which is absolutely fucking disgusting) and they are now also sharing p0rn photos or videos made with deepfakes and AI (of which +200 are of female celebrities). The most alarming thing is that they also found material of ELEMENTARY, MIDDLE SCHOOL AND HIGH SCHOOL CHILDREN. There is also a third room, with about 1.200 members that was specifically made to target female university students.

WAS TAEIL A PART OF THE NTH ROOM?

No, or at least not that we know of. Many people believe that he was because of how close on the timeline the discovery of the new Nth Room and the revelation of his crimes were, but the police said nothing about it. We don't know if any idols were actually involved in the new Nth Room and (if they are) which idols were supposedly involved. I saw a rumor of a list that will be released soon: IT'S FAKE!!!!! DO NOT BELIEVE IT!!!! Believe NOTHING about this until actual police statements come out, PLEASE. This is a very serious situation and we don't need misinformation to make things messier. THIS IS NOT A GAME.

(Koreaboo's article: https://www.koreaboo.com/news/female-kpop-idols-deep-fake-porn/ )

- OTHER THINGS:

Is the list of the female idols whose material was found in the new Nth Room real? Unfortunately yes.

Is it true that Taeil hospitalized the victim's mother? NO. It is not true. He didn't hospitalize her, but it is true that he sent death threats to the victim and her mother while the latter was hospitalized.

Is it true that the victim's brother (or grandpa) broke Taeil's leg after finding out about what he did? This is just a rumor, and i also see a lot of confusion about it because some people say it was her brother, while other people say it was her grandpa. Despite this i personally believe that this might be true because i read somewhere that the day Taeil got injured there were no car accidents registered, but again: IT'S JUST A RUMOR!!!

Is it true that he assaulted and rap3d an 11 year old girl and paralyzed her for life? I have found no evidence that backs up this accusation so NO. But Taeil is still a fucking monster that deserves the worst. All the men involved in these two situations do. They don't deserve to be a part of the community of our planet. They deserve NOTHING. They should be treated like the fucking animals they are. Death upon these monsters and whoever supports and defends them. Pieces of shit.

Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical mistakes, unfortunately english isn't my first language!!! If i said anything wrong, if you have to clarify anything and if you have more evidence + news, please let me know by commenting, reblogging or messaging me. Remember to block and report IMMEDIATELY any account that shares deepfake p0rn content. Thank you.

more information about what's going on lately in SK: https://x.com/muixsuzuya/status/1828792968570122616?s=46

#south korea #taeil #moon taeil #nct #nct 127 #nct u #kpop #kpop gg #female idols #important #please share #!!!#kpop bg

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tarithenurse · 2 months ago

Text

Pirate's Bounty II

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing/starring: 1st mate!Bucky x Pirate princess!reader

Word count: 1128

Content: Smut

A/N: Woopsie! Wrote a part 2. Hope you’re okay with that.

Pirate’s Bounty II

Sharing a room at the inn, the Pirate’s Cove, was Bucky’s idea of safety. Falling asleep fully dressed after the ball was not planned but she has slept wonderfully albeit rather brief.

Waking up, [Y/N]’s vaguely aware of the soft light coming through the curtains from the courtyard beyond. What’s more pressing, however, is the weight over her waist that holds her warm and snug against a hard shape behind her. Glancing around, she’s soon verified that it’s Bucky who has scooped her into his arm and drifted off on the comfortable bed before she woke.

Lying as still as she can, the captain considers disentangling herself but...it actually feels lovely. Safe. So instead she remains where she is, fingertips slowly caressing his knuckles until the light of dawn starts to fill the room and he wakes from his rest too.

Yawning. Stretching against her form. She can feel his muscles flex and his hip push against her behind, causing her to remember that night on the deck.

“Good morning,” the young woman whispers.

“Morning.” He pulls her closer, then freezes at the realization. But: “Shit, I fell asleep!”

She twists to look at him. “That’s what you take from this?”

He doesn’t bother to look sheepish even as he maintains his grip. “Figured I’d feel if you tried to sneak away.”

There’s a certain logic to it, of course, as offensive as it may be to be called out on something she very well might have done just months ago. But now no longer.

“I know I can’t do that,” she admits, turning her head away.

“You’ll get your freedom back some day,” he offers surprisingly kind.

She sighs. “And until then you’ll watch my back.”

“Please!” he grins mischievously, “I’ll watch all of you.”

“Bucky!” But she can’t help laughing softly.

He bends down, finding her mouth with his lips even as he mumbles a “pardon me, m’lady” against her.

She’s soft and pliable, greedily taking what he offers even as his large hand begins to roam, slipping under the soft top to explore the swell of her breasts before sliding along her hip and slowly but surely hoisting up the skirt.

“Get rid of this,” he growls, giving up on the many thin layers that keep sliding back.

[Y/N] gets to her feet, suddenly insecure but also driven by a need she’s only felt a few times now. Slipping the skirt down, she steps out of it as it pools on the floor, leaving her in naught but the top and her undies and that top is the next to go, slowly lifted over her head to bare her form to a hungry looking 1st mate. She’s about to get back into the bed when he shakes his head.

“All of it,” he demands.

Stepping back, she slides the little bit of modesty she has left down her legs, revealing all of her.

“And now?” she asks, voice whispier than she wants.

Getting over to her, Bucky allows his hands to brush down her arms before skimming up her sides to cup her breasts once more.

“Those bastards have no idea what they’re missing out on,” he growls, referring to her suitors

“Please don’t make me think of them now,” [Y/N] pleads.

He grins cockily. “Oh, I’ll take your mind off things.”

Next thing she knows, she’s been more or less tossed onto the bed, automatically spreading her legs to cradle Bucky between them even as he holds himself off of her.

This time the kiss is hungry. Searing. All teeth and tongue, little bites that wander down her jaw and onto her neck while her fingers tangle in his hair. She gasps when he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently but hard enough to sting just a little and she knows she’s done for as the pressure within her increases, begging for more. Like a knot wanting to be cut.

But for one as brusque and direct, Bucky takes his time teasing and winding her up until she’s a whining mess, begging for more although his mouth and hands have been everywhere.

“More?” he double checks, looking up from where he’s kneeling between her legs, lips glistening from her juices. “Are you certain?”

She whimpers. “Yes. More. There must be more.”

About ready to cry when he steps out of the bed, the young woman is quickly silenced as she sees him untie his trousers revealing something she’s only seen once in real life and that in a different state. Now his cock stands erect, proud. Bobbing slightly at the newfound freedom but mostly scaring her with the sheer size.

“Come here,” he steps closer, reaching for her hand.

With him, she touches his erection for the first time, feeling how silken the skin is despite the hardness of the member. She explores, learning how it pulses when she touches beneath the head that’s a dark purple and slowly it becomes less scary.

Making her scoot over, Bucky lies down and guides his lover on top of him, slowly showing her how to pump the cock between her hands until she finds a rhythm that makes his eyes fall shut and the large man groan in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah...”

But he doesn’t allow her to continue, instead repositioning her with the tip of the cock nestled in between her legs right at the entrance to her cunt.

“Take it slow,” he guides her, “a bit at a time.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest as she slowly sinks onto him, spearing herself on the blunt tip. The stretch burns but it’s delicious too and each inch earns her growled praises from Bucky. Rocking back and forth, she eventually can’t take any more, she feels, and when she looks down, she finds that she’s fully seated on his cock. So full.

“Yeah?” he asks her.

“Fuck,” she sighs, gently gyrating the hips to really feel him in her heat.

Large hands find her hips, help her find a rhythm again. Slow and steady up and down until her thighs are burning and her body tenses and she can’t breathe or see but only arch her back in ecstasy.

“So fucking beautiful,” she vaguely hears him growl.

Then her world spins and she finds her beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips that move with a new purpose, bringing her high once more at the same time as he stutters in the movements and growls into her neck something guttural. Something primal.

Bucky manages not to collapse onto the considerably smaller female, instead rolling them so she rests on top. There, they just lie, catching their breaths.

“That was...” [Y/N] tries to articulate, “that was...amazing.”

“Fuck yeah it was,” the 1st mate agrees.

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Pirate AU #alternate universe #x you #smut #bucky

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rendy-a · 2 years ago

Note

I already sent in a few requests but then you had to open up the househusband can of worms, huh? 😭 /lh /pos

General headcanons for Trey, Ruggie, Azul, and Jade as househusbands please? 👉️👈️ I'm so soft for these boys I know I'm gonna brainrot so hard for them if you do this already. Thank you in advance if you do this!

I’ve got a separate request for just Ruggie, so we will look at him deeper there. For now, thanks for requesting. Let’s all househusband brainrot together!

Trey is a pro at being a househusband. Perhaps it is because he is oldest of all his siblings, but he just has a knack of knowing how to take care of others. If you need someone to encourage you to go for that promotion at work, he is your guy. Someone to cheer you up after a string of stormy days, he is your guy. Really, all the little things he does just makes you grateful that he is your guy!

Baking is his superpower. You fondly recall your first cooking experience with your husband, making a chestnut tart in the school’s kitchen. Since then, you’ve had plenty of reasons to be thankful for your spouse’s amazing baking abilities. Nothing cheers you up faster than one of the sweet treats your spouse serves you after a particularly long day. Plus, like any superhero, he goes about in proper costume. You know Trey has aprons that match each of his signature hats. He really gets that domestic vibe when he rolls up his sleeves and dons that apron to work in the kitchen.

Date night? No thank you. With Trey, its all about date mornings. Why morning? That’s when you can go out and find the best produce. You love accompanying your spouse to farmer’s markets to look for seasonal produce. He gets so excited when he can share some facts with you about the fruit and veggies; like how to tell when things are ripe or some interesting ways they could be prepared. If you have a few days to get away, you might even take a vacation to an area where there are interesting ingredients to be found. He still talks fondly about your honeymoon to the Scalding Sands and the spices he brought back with him. Maybe for your next anniversary…

You finish your dinner with a satisfied sigh, setting your fork down on the plate. “Another marvelous creation, dear,” you say with a smile. He gives you a bashful look and adjusts his glasses. “I’m glad to hear you approve.” He stands and comes to collect your plate and you just wave him away before picking it up and following him into the kitchen. He gets a small grin on his face as he slides over to give you space at the sink. He would never ask it of you, but you know how much he enjoys your company as you wash the dishes together. He will wash and you can dry.

After the dishes are done, you’ll both go get into your cozy clothes and head to the couch for movie night. Your nightly tradition is to watch sappy, predictable romance movies. It gives you background while you catch up on each other’s day. “And so, I told Cater I was sure no one would notice,” Trey finishes his story as you both laugh about your old schoolmate’s antics. You snuggle deeper into his embrace as you rub lazy circles on his forearm. “So, then what happened?” you prompt.

When the movie is over, Trey places a kiss on the top of your head and asks if you are ready for bed. “Hmm,” you hum in gentle agreement. He helps you to your feet and you go off to brush your teeth before bed while Trey stays behind to turn off the TV and fold the blanket you had been using on the couch. When he finally makes it to the bedroom, he asks if you remembered to brush thoroughly. “Tops and bottoms?” he chides. “Yes,” you reply. “And floss?” he verifies. “Of course,” you say. “Did you choose the mint or cinnamon toothpaste?” he enquires. You turn to him, “Why don’t you come over here and find out?” He flashes his own perfect smile at you, “Well I guess I’m not that tired after all.”

If Azul is going to be a househusband, then he resolves to be the best househusband. He reads magazines and does internet research on the standards of keeping an impressive home. Soon your humble dwelling is looking like it belongs in a magazine. If you tell him how impressive it is, he will act like it is no big deal but the pink along his cheeks says otherwise.

He manages the household budget like a pro. He may no longer be the lounge manager he once was but that doesn’t mean he has lost his business savvy. He negotiates with shop keepers like a frugal old woman, finding you discounts and deals everywhere. If funds end up getting a little tight, he might even look for a small amount of side business. He won’t let you find out (he wants you to feel like you are supporting this household!), but what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Azul and Jade call it their “book club” and you don’t suspect a thing; you just think it’s great he is keeping in touch with old friends.

He is used to working alone but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get lonely. Sometimes, Azul needs a boost to get him through the day. Leave him cute notes to find as he does his chores. It gives him something to look forward to as he goes about his schedule and reminds him that he is no longer alone. If he is particularly touched by one of the messages you leave, you’ll know when you get home. He will be even more enthusiastic with your welcome home greeting, reminding you that no one gives hugs like an octopus can.

When the power went off at your office, you decided to take the afternoon off. Its not like there was a way to keep working, after all! You smile as you think about the surprise your husband will have when you get home early. When you arrive, you quietly open the door and tip-toe into the dining room. You are shocked to find Azul quietly sobbing over a pile of feathers and a hot glue gun. A home décor magazine is propped up for reference on whatever project he is attempting. “Why is it so damned hard to glue feathers to this stupid piece of cardboard?” Azul laments to himself. You think this is not the day to surprise your spouse after all and slowly slink back out the front door.

A few hours later, you message Azul not to make dinner; that you’ll be bringing something home. You arrive home (for the second time) at your usual hour. Azul opens the door for you and takes the bag of fried chicken you’ve brought with you. He raises an eyebrow at you, “Did you have a bad day, dear?” You look at him guiltily, “Ah, well…I just thought we could both use a treat now and again.” He hums in agreement and leads you to the table.

“What’s that? Is it new?” you ask examining the feather bedecked centerpiece on the table. “Oh, that little thing?” Azul says. “Its something I saw in a magazine. Can you believe they wanted 100 madol for that? I thought I’d make one myself for a quarter of that price.” You try to keep a straight face as you say, “Well it certainly turned out nice. I hope it didn’t give you too much trouble.” Azul makes an expressive hand gesture as he shrugs, “Of course it didn’t. I’m easily capable of this much and more.” You slip an arm around him and give him a kiss on the cheek, “How lucky I am to have such a talented spouse.”

Home sweet home is not exactly the sentiment you get when you walk into the house curated by Jade. The décor is simple and modern but has almost a sterile feel to it. There is one exception and that is plants. Jade keeps a wide assortment of terrariums and house plants in every room of the house. They bring life to what might otherwise be a dreary space. Jade gives his plants names and lavishes attention on them, similar to how many people treat their pets. Sometimes you get jealous of the plants but that only amuses Jade. “Fufufu. Don’t worry, darling. Petunia isn’t half as striking as you.”

Jade has spent many years honing his sense of observation and attention to detail. This allows him to run a most efficient household. He is like your own personal butler, there to attend to your each and every need. Sometimes, he will satisfy your needs before you even know what those are yourself. You come home from a long day and notice there are new scented bath salts waiting by a steaming tub and let a warm smile cross your face. He always knows just what you need.

While Jade is used to using his skills as a butler-type to perform an exceptional job, what he is not used to is being appreciated for it. You make sure to find at least one small thing he has done for you each day and let him know how much it means to you. He doesn’t outwardly show that your small thanks have impacted him but afterwards, he goes about his day with a slight spring in his step. You also notice the things you praise him for get done a lot more frequently. You think it is Jade asking for your attention, in his own way.

It started with a sneeze. You’d never heard your spouse so much as sniffle before. You assumed he had some mer thing that made him impervious to human sicknesses, like the common cold. However, that one small sneeze would prove you wrong. Before the day was out, Jade’s complexion had taken on a sallow tone and his checks were rouged with a feverish look. “Hey sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” you asked him with concern. He places his hand over his chest and gives you a slight bow as he says, “I assure you I am perfectly capable of continuing with my daily activities. You needn’t worry about the quality of my work.”

You sigh at your spouse’s comment. “Jade, I’m not concerned about your work, I’m concerned about you! Come here,” you say as you give him a come-hither motion. When he arrives at your side, you place your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. It didn’t feel warm. He smiles at you, amused at your action. “Well, do I feel warm?” You harrumph at him. “No, but we both know you are cold-blooded, so that doesn’t mean a thing.” His amused smile widens, an indication he is pleased you’ve realized your error. “Regardless! I know you Jade, and I know that you aren’t your usual self. Take a rest. If not for yourself, then for me.”

He looks at you, considering his options. “Very well, dearest. I suppose I can shuffle my tasks around enough to allow for a short rest.” You pat yourself on the back for having successfully bargained with your sly spouse and hurry him off to bed. So, he thinks he’ll be doing chores later; even though he is sick? Not if you can help it! With that, you roll up your sleeves and set to work on the household tasks. Jade is a very organized househusband, keeping a list of tasks written in his neat script pinned to a corkboard in the kitchen. You start with task four, tasks one through three having been already completed by Jade, which is doing some cooking prep work to get ready for tomorrow’s lunch.

By the time you are at task six out of ten, you are fatigued. How does Jade do this every day? You have a small dish of ice cream to cheer yourself up before jumping back in. There is no way you’ll allow your sick spouse to lift one more finger today. Seven, eight, nine… you were nearly done. You’ve acquired a lovely blister from using the broom and a renewed sense of appreciation for all Jade does. The last task is folding the laundry, which you do with eyes drooping from exhaustion. Then you grab the folded cloths and begin to stow them away in their respective places. When you quietly open the door to your bedroom to put away some socks, the light from the hallway causes Jade to open his eyes.

“My, my,” he says in a sleep addled voice, “how surprising. I’ve slept until nightfall.” You quickly tuck the socks in the drawer and go to join him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “See, I told you that you needed rest.” You run your hand over his forehead, gently pushing his signature lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “You know, I’ve been doing your chores all day and I must say that I think you take on too much. You should rest more, even if you aren’t sick. I love the way you take care of me and our home but sometimes I wish you’d take more care of yourself too.”

Jade’s eyes widen for a moment, as though you had startled him. Then he smiles softly at you. “How interesting you are.” You tilt your head to the side, as though urging him to elaborate. Instead, he chuckles softly, “Well, if all my chores are done, then I don’t see why I should get up at all. I do believe I’ll stay here all night.” You beam back at him, deciding in that moment that you were done too. You push back the covers and climb into bed beside your spouse, cuddling up to his side. “Is that a promise?”

#househusband au #trey clover #trey clover x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland

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imaginespazzi · 8 months ago

Note

Ok bestie, anon who followed up on Amoore reporting back as requested ha. I should say we are on a similar page, her & Kitley are very tough to get a read on. And a lot of the online chatter agrees its hard to judge and goes back and forth on whether theres something more going on. For those interested, I suggest watching their youtube ch series for a general sense of them interacting. Entertaining and light vids, not overly long. Really just little things between them here & there that add up. And of course a person can review their socials..

Now onto the tea I came across online. Imperfectly summarized the best I can below. (Allow me to stipulate that I have no way of verifying any of this, so please understand Im not at all sharing any of this to be presented as true or false. Take it as simply passing along the posting of others for conversations sake here in a safe space. Comments/feedback/corrections welcome)

Its described as on/off thing, first beginning summer 2020. A VT insider says people are aware that Amoore hasnt been committed, to put it delicately/nicely. Leading most recently to a break of sorts last Dec-mid Jan. (Added pretty sure they are together rn though. And another person did point out if Liz was getting cheated on why would Georgia seem to maintain a good relationship with the Kitley family, which is a fair Q to pose). But notably, a strangely long break in their podcast took place over that period and for the first time in 3 years they didn’t spend XMas together or hang around each other over the holiday and when podcast recording returned they just said “we had Xmas” and didn’t talk about it. It was also pointed out that sometime in winter, Liz had tickets to see an NHL game and went w Cayla King despite her and Georgia talking about how they wanted to go together before. Only sus bc it happened to coincide w the time where Georgia was speculated to have gotten close to Kate Martin. Then suddenly they K & G werent interacting anymore and L & G seem back to being “besties”.

Sidenotes:

Liz’s "2020 love playlist"… apparently someone has screenshots that it used to be titled Georgia. Includes some fav bands/songs of Amoores. And a tune called Australia Street lol. Lots of love songs predictably, but some breakup songs were added to it at one point (the comment seems to insinuate during the time they were going through issues)

They're friends with a married lesbian couple (Youtubers/influencers? The Bellaires) who they once visited alone.

Also, fyi, Kate Martin is apparently recently back w her last ex, whoever that is - per talk re social media activity

You're my new favorite person omg because this is my kinda tea fr! Can y'all tell I love some good gossip?

I'm ngl, I was never the most invested in V-Tech or the girls on the team, so I don't really follow them. And I was pretty convinced Liz was straight so I just assumed her and Georgia really were just really close besties.

But this checks out with what I've heard/read too, that they were in that "undefined" kinda place, mainly because of Georgia and eventually Liz got tired of it. I definitely didn't know about the Christmas or the NHL stuff but that makes sense. Also from what I heard, they were probably done for good now with Liz going to the draft? But still being together also makes sense. I'm so invested in this now omg.

#ask #this is my new roman empire omg like bestie if you find more details come share

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sonkitty · 10 months ago

Text

Bookend Buddies - Crowley and Muriel

Introduction

Alright, I'm going to talk about Crowley and Muriel.

My starting theory was that these two knew each other as at least acquaintances, not necessarily friends, in the first draft of the story. This first draft would have resolved the matter of the cardboard box Gabriel brought much sooner. Then a second draft, or even more drafts, act as the cover for whatever happened the first time around.

After looking over Crowley and Muriel scenes, something like that could indeed be true, but certain other messages from the story emerged that seem to make that idea secondary when looking at the pair specifically together.

Trust

For one, a far understated thing about their relationship is that these two trust each other, even if they don't seem to know each other very well. It hits really hard once you get the level of trust Crowley has to have in Muriel for their assistance in the Triple of The Bigger Thresholds Trick. Their part together is for the Heaven elevator, and pockets are involved.

Pocket usage combined with threshold usage in Good Omens 2 amounts to a nightmarish puzzle that I will never truly solve. I have solved just enough to know what to look for, and I see it all over their entry into Heaven. Pockets require precise framing, and they both have it.

This trust level would put their relationship as much more likely to be actual friends despite Crowley's intense claim to the contrary in episode 5 when he tells Gabriel that Aziraphale is the only friend he has.

Bookends

The other weird message was something I found in looking for a small pattern I noticed. That pattern was that Crowley scenes tend to bookend Muriel scenes. I started to log and verify that pattern. It's not on both ends every time, and I could find only one Muriel scene where there's no bookend of a scene with him on either side.

When they both get back from Heaven in episode 6, this pattern goes into hyper-drive. It becomes a game in and of itself to see how Crowley can bookend or share Muriel scenes all the way up to the end of the episode and overall season.

Along the way, Muriel likely assists Crowley in the Single of The Pocket Trick. Muriel then ends up having bookend scenes to all 6 of Crowley's own Threshold Tricks.

Memory

I don't know how both their memories were edited or altered, but I'm left to guess that it happened and was partly voluntary with making sure they remembered just enough to maintain their trust in each other or have a way for that trust to quietly activate, as if it has a switch.

Boxes

Boxes are a theme with these two, so I'm going to discuss the boxes among the other stuff below.

...

Episode 1: The Arrival

There are 3 Matchbox Muriel scenes. Two of them happen in episode 1.

Before Muriel is shown on screen, there is a cut of Gabriel with the fly that's implied to be an extension of the scene where Aziraphale called Crowley to invite Crowley to the coffee shop.

Then Muriel finds the matchbox. I'm not going to get too much into the quote and stuff, but one could easily link it to Crowley if what I've read of its relation to "leviathan" is true since leviathans can be associated with snakes. There's also the fire-breathing Crowley pretending to be Aziraphale in season 1. Then of course that hopping and shouting with the lightning forcing the power outage on the coffee shop that comes later. The matchbox itself might be evil or borderline evil.

Muriel's hand is just as deliberate as Crowley's can be when it comes to managing the touch because part of a thumb is shown with the thumb tip itself hidden and the thumb obscured specifically by the end of the touch.

After this scene, the immediate next scene is Crowley's arrival at the coffee shop, which is also The Perfect Entrance Trick.

So, that's one Muriel scene book-ended with Crowley scenes. One could find the first part debatable, and indeed, that will happen again. Still, almost every time, there will be a Crowley scene at least before or after a Muriel scene.

That's also the first scene for Muriel to bookend one of the Threshold Tricks.

Take note.

These things add up.

We're going to take a quick break from Muriel because of the cardboard box.

In episode 1, there is an extremely important sequence of at least one Likely Fake Crowley, possibly two, storming out of the bookshop. In that sequence, the fake who looks most likely to be Aziraphale passes by a prominently displayed cardboard box and does not touch it.

Actual Crowley is a top tier player in Earthly Objects who is incredibly deliberate in what he touches, especially with his hands. He's also someone who tends to ask questions.

Remember the cardboard box and that the fake did not touch that box and did not question it. Both Crowley and Muriel are going to follow this pattern with the exception of Crowley retrieving the box during episode 6 of course.

Let's get back to Muriel.

The next debatable front bookend Crowley scene to a Muriel scene is that after Crowley shoots out lightning, his torso is shown and does not include his head. The scene cuts to Nina and Maggie realizing they are locked in. For some reason, a blurry red-headed figure wearing black is ensured to be shown in the background as if it could be Crowley. This figure is a possible fake because we later find out that Crowley lost so much of his red in his hair. Plus, there's some general confusion about the car being parked in front of the coffee shop. The car itself seems more bluish. He doesn't enter or leave and is shown to be with the car later on a different street. This possible fake allows for a stronger bookend connection to the incoming Muriel scene nonetheless.

The next cut is of Michael and Uriel for a bit before Muriel enters, but it is the same scene. Now we are at Matchbox Muriel Scene #2.

When the matchbox is set down, it does not make the sound that an empty matchbox makes. In fact, it sounds like a disguised magical book. The music gives more of a mystery vibe than a stronger intensity and possibly evil vibe it will give later in episode 5.

We learn the name of the game, Earthly Objects, and are shown an extensive touching sequence. I don't know if it's a tutorial. If it is, I can't tell you what it teaches. I can mainly tell you it makes sure to show most of Michael's digits during the sequence. Thumbs are shown, but the thumbs don't actually touch the matchbox itself. Thumbs are a big deal in Earthly Objects. A thumb tip can even set certain things into Door Mode. If that matchbox is an evil book hiding in disguise, a thumb tip could be like a password that would have accessed it. Muriel avoided doing that or avoided it in just the right way.

As this Muriel scene wraps up, Uriel says, "I think he's gone to Earth."

We're supposed to guess and assume they mean Gabriel, yet the story cuts to Crowley entering his car before he is summoned to Hell. So, this Muriel scene is given a clear back bookend Crowley scene.

Muriel does not show up again in episode 1.

But...let's get back to the cardboard box.

When Crowley returns to the bookshop, the prominently displayed cardboard box is no longer prominently displayed where it was. In fact, for a good long while, I thought it had disappeared as much as the plate of Eccles cakes, but no, it was just moved out of the way in a less obvious spot.

Now, here's something I found interesting while drafting this post. My own question to myself was, "Was the box moved out of Crowley's line of sight?" for the scene.

I was quite surprised to find out that in almost the entire scene, the box is not in his line of sight. There is only one tiny part of the scene where it is.

The box is in Crowley's line of sight briefly during the apology dance.

So, the dance might have been a clue to Crowley to know where the box was but still not visibly touch it or question it. Remember, later in episode 6, it's going to be weird when he acts like he knows about the cardboard box he never acknowledged in the whole story up to that point.

...

Episode 2: The Clue

Not that it's hard being one of the two main characters of the story, but Crowley has another front bookend scene before a Muriel scene in the minisode that starts off the episode. He is at least prevented from having a back bookend scene this time.

The episode opens with the scene of the big giant scroll and pretending to kill off the goats while actually turning them into crows instead, as Crawley.

Muriel is later shown reading a big giant scroll. I don't know if it's the exact same scroll, but it's at least supposed to be about the same thing.

Muriel does not appear again for the rest of the episode.

...

Episode 3: I Know Where I'm Going

At long last, Muriel arrives on Earth. They have a scene without Crowley scenes book-ending either side of it.

The front bookend is Gabriel drinking hot chocolate. Soon after, Muriel is the subject being seen through the window for Mrs. Sandwich. Then they start their scene with Aziraphale. One could probably estimate this scene's end as Aziraphale closing the door. So, finally, no Crowley though Crowley himself will be part of the scene immediately after.

It's possible that Muriel has had a memory wipe though how recent is hard to guess. My own guess would be that it's actually relatively recent because as stated, I think they and Crowley knew each other in the first draft of the story.

Aziraphale seems to have a moment of quiet recognition, that could be either from the recent Job minisode or if he knew Muriel in the first draft as well. I would guess that he did, but this bookend thing Crowley and Muriel have is not quite the same as what can be found between Aziraphale and Muriel. Aziraphale moves the story along without any further acknowledgment.

After Muriel enters, the cardboard box is given more focus from its designated place than usual with a blurred Muriel in the foreground. The camera work forces a shift such that Muriel receives focus, and the cardboard box is blurred. While I'm sure many people have picked up on this thing happening, I'm going to add that that particular type of blur was used in the first shared complex window scene Maggie and Nina had looking at Crowley through a window in episode 1. The blur type share was also done with Crowley and Gabriel in episode 1 when Crowley finds out Gabriel is in the bookshop. So, Muriel is given a notable share with a cardboard box instead of an actual full other character in the story. It's also a box that keeps having no touching or questioning from Crowley. Muriel doesn't touch it or question it either.

When Crowley arrives, he does sound grumpy as he complains about Aziraphale not taking the train. He soon stops, realizes Muriel is there, and says, "Who's this now?"

Take note of the "now" because this story is both deceptive and deliberate in its methods. These are the types of little clues it scatters around compared to the bigger ones. The "now" hints he knows of a "who" Muriel was from some other time.

Just as Muriel glows, Crowley is actually more cast in shadow than he already often is upon stopping to find them there. His body makes sure to stop with the shadow covering much of his upper body area in a diagonal manner.

Crowley has short sideburns despite Muriel being an angel because the bookshop literally took their claim as human. Interestingly, Crowley is also lacking his more saturated streak of red hair that is often found over the center of his left eye during the present day story.

Crowley himself quickly warms up to Muriel in a more friendly manner.

Muriel's body blocks the cardboard box from our line of sight for a good amount of the scene but not the entire time. In turn, Crowley is bound to have it in his own line of sight much more easily than in episode 1 when he returned to the bookshop. So, by now, Crowley probably knows it's there and is still just generally ignoring it while being near its presence.

There's some kind of light near Muriel that keeps flickering. While neither Crowley nor Muriel use pockets here, they both do at other times. Pockets use lighting as clues. So, I'm not going to log every single line and every single flicker, but I did notice the flicker when Muriel said "200 years". That number could mean something like when these two actually met or became friends.

Another noteworthy thing about this scene involving both characters is that it is one of the few times the story shows a person reflected in Crowley's sunglasses before The Window Trick at the end of episode 6. Muriel's reflection can actually be found, quite likely because they were intentionally showing off their cup of tea.

Crowley exits first, allowing for a scene between Muriel and Aziraphale. After Aziraphale leaves, Muriel is left alone momentarily. While they do not get the same blurred share from earlier, they are still shown specifically with the cardboard box while not touching it or questioning it.

Later, Muriel intrudes on Crowley and Aziraphale. I've actually written about the scene in my "Rule Following" section for Earthly Objects.

So, I'll mainly say that this scene does not really have a hint of them having known each other. Instead, it has Crowley manipulating the scene and Muriel to do what he wants so he can give Aziraphale a proper pass of the car keys. The toss is incredibly precise because he waits until Muriel's eyes move to the notepad, not just for them to get out their notepad. The only possible hint is if Muriel actually looked at Crowley before their notepad intentionally as a cue for when he should be ready for the toss. Then the toss isn't as impressive, so my bias prefers to think that was not the case. Head canon as you please.

Even though the two had an actual scene together, the story makes that scene a front bookend Crowley scene of yet another Muriel scene with Muriel's stop at the coffee shop.

Muriel is not seen again for the rest of the episode.

...

Episode 4 does not have Muriel. It does have Crowley touching the cardboard box of the plants. Sorry, I couldn't help notice that cardboard boxes are a thing because of the matchbox and the mainly featured cardboard box, so we may as well take note since Muriel was given that shared blur with such an important cardboard box.

...

Episode 5: The Ball

During episode 5, there are two important scenes shared between Crowley and Gabriel. The first scene is where Crowley ultimately tells Gabriel to jump out a window, then stops Gabriel from doing so. He offers to make hot chocolate. This scene is a front bookend of the last Matchbox Muriel scene. It also includes mention of an actual matchbox.

Finally, we are back to our ominous borderline evil matchbox itself with Matchbox Muriel Scene #3. This scene further manages to act as a back bookend to a touch of The Sunglasses Trick. In this matchbox scene, the subtitles say "intense music" and it is intense. The matchbox is given immediate focus to introduce the scene.

The intensity settles. Muriel is giving their report to Michael and Uriel with no Saraqael around.

In this report, Muriel says Crowley's name, including calling him, "Mr. Crowley," and describes Crowley as Aziraphale's "grumpy friend." Well, Crowley was grumpy when Muriel first saw him yes, but most of the time we saw them together, he was not grumpy. In fact, he was rather friendly. Muriel is also shown to be unaware that Crowley is a demon. When they say Aziraphale's "Mr. Fell" name, Uriel gives Muriel a look that makes Muriel definitely not say Crowley's name—not even partially.

Aside from Aziraphale, Shax, and any character involved in the 1941 minisode, the story itself seems to have some rather strict rules on who can say Crowley's name and when. If I remember right, Muriel never says Crowley's name again.

We, the audience, were never shown anyone giving Muriel Crowley's name before that point either. In addition to that, mysterious music plays while the angels stop in confusion as they grasp at the assistant bookseller they can't quite remember. The matchbox is not easily seen during all of this time, but we know we saw it first with the intense music.

We never saw Muriel see or speak to an assistant bookseller, Gabriel going by Jim, in the scenes given. Muriel's memory and the story's memory do not match with what we have been told is happening. And some possibly evil matchbox is making that happen...maybe. That thing gives off "trying to get back to its master" evil ring vibes towards Crowley. It's creepy. No, I'm not venturing too far down that road. I'm admitting it's just vibes.

The back bookend scene here is Crowley actually giving Gabriel hot chocolate.

After this point, Crowley's sideburns stay a medium-to-long length until right before the credits at the end. Part of my sideburns scheme theory is that Aziraphale and Crowley borrowed each other's homes to form a special connection that affected an invisible supernatural border that existed between the car and the bookshop. They then made their preparations for the ball through the invitations, and Crowley had his scenes with Gabriel to force this sideburn status into place.

That means a lot of pieces were moved around so that the next time Crowley encountered Muriel, his sideburns were longer despite Muriel's earlier claim of being "human" and the bookshop's reading from that.

Let's skip ahead to that Crowley and Muriel encounter.

Crowley finds Muriel near the pub. In fact, he finds Muriel at, I believe, where he parked the car in episode 2. That's quite the coincidence.

After he convinces Muriel to "arrest" him, for some reason, Crowley makes sure to enter the elevator first. Ever since I realized Crowley's sideburns respond to thresholds, I have taken note of Crowley's deliberate decisions in so much of what he does, especially in season 2. He is rather strategic overall. Him entering first sets off alarms in my head. That is not the typical way he does things. He goes alone or Aziraphale leads. In the Edinburgh minisode, Elspeth entered first, followed by Crowley, then Aziraphale. Not long before this Muriel encounter and probably not a coincidence, Crowley left with Mrs. Sandwich first. They went together. He still did not go first as only himself.

But for some reason, at this particular threshold, it is a priority that he be first. I wish I knew why instead of just constantly sensing it.

This entry into Heaven is the first part of the Triple in The Bigger Thresholds Trick. It is also the only one that expands over two episodes.

When looking at Crowley and Muriel together, here are some things I think are worth noting.

First of all, Muriel was convinced to begin with. Why would they trust him? He's a demon, and they were even given a specific look of not even saying his name. Yet still, they find Crowley convincing enough to do this arrest. Crowley told Shax in episode 2 that he was a "former demon," but when it comes to Muriel, he actually drops the "former" part of his own self-description.

Now, I do have this theory that when it comes to the longer sideburns, they are like a mark of rank on Crowley when he is around angels. I usually associate that theory more with their longest length and specifically when in the bookshop. If that theory has any merit even outside the bookshop, then latent memory in Muriel could actually be recognizing Crowley's rank from before his fall and why they ultimately abide. If I'm wrong, then Muriel still finds a way to put their trust in him, such as a latent memory of whatever they did together in the first draft of the story or past friendship they had. If there is no latent memory, Muriel just trusts him anyway.

Crowley himself is having to trust Muriel here. It is no small amount of trust either. This segment is incredibly important to performing the Trick. He trusted Aziraphale for the other two, and with Aziraphale not here, Muriel is the one he turns to for help.

Unfortunately, I do not have a desired simplified explanation of how this threshold is being tricked, but I can at least tell you I know what to look for and the deliberate methods both characters use for entering. The more simplified ways are that Crowley manages to not touch the buttons and not touch the pub doors before going up. Muriel is the one who both summons the elevator and closes the pub doors for him. When he is later seen going down, he maintains touch with his back at where the edges of the elevator doors meet.

Well, that's the easier stuff. There is something far more complicated happening with shadows, lighting, and pockets. I don't know what it is. I'm just going to tell you I see it, and I know it when I see it because I at least know what to look for. With pockets involved, that also means framing.

I won't bore you with too many of the details. It was hard to write in my initial draft. Muriel is deliberate in how they get themselves framed alongside Crowley. Probably about the most noteworthy things of such framing are a look down as if to check they are positioning themself properly and getting their right arm so close to being over the middle edge of where the elevator doors meet and still not doing that. That part might have to do with whatever was necessary a to align with a reflection in a window pane, and that reflection being over a lock.

Speaking of windows, they are both deliberately framed through the window panes. I'm not going to describe it. If you're interested and can see, I advise you just go take a look. It is assuredly intentional. Their heads and upper bodies are in a grid or something. "Gridlock" might be the simplified word I'm looking for, but I'm not fully convinced and couldn't explain it to anyone.

Here, I have at least made a GIF because the glance down helps show it's intentional:

Pockets of light were involved. Muriel used a pocket. Crowley made touches on his clothing suspiciously like when he uses pockets. His tied hands might have been tied. His belt head might have activated. It's ridiculous. I can't believe this Earthly Objects game.

Before Muriel entered, they looked at Crowley and asked, "You aren't trying to trick me, are you?"

Now a lot of people would see that question and be, like, yes, of course he is.

It definitely looks that way.

But...these two are actually tricking a threshold together. It is likely a clue to the audience to look for the Threshold Trick that's happening right in front of their eyes instead of Crowley tricking Muriel.

Even though we saw Muriel close the doors, we did not see any miracle touch to activate a button. We just see the elevator go up.

...

Episode 6: Every Day

As the two arrive in Heaven, Crowley makes sure to exit the elevator first. His foot decidedly makes sure to not touch the lower threshold of where the doors slid open. His shadow can be seen to his left side. When Muriel follows, they don't have a shadow to their left side at all.

Now on they go where probably a million important things happen since pockets were involved on the way up, but let's focus on three things.

Crowley quickly refers to Muriel's rank when asking about records. We've already seen Muriel know Crowley's name without us knowing how they got it. Now we see Crowley know Muriel's rank without us knowing how he got it. We're even going to see both of them receive each of these pieces of information later on this trip in Heaven.

Not long after the rank reference, one of the lines Crowley says is, "You're forgetting about the bees."

Crowley, how many times has Muriel helped you break into Heaven by this point?

I hope it's not more than one, but it's going to be awhile to get such an answer.

Muriel's "forgetting" are they? Does he know that Muriel knew about the bees before? Did they talk about it? Did they work together?

As the conversation continues, it leads to Crowley changing his appearance. Of note in this appearance, his newly manifested gold tie is...pocketed into his newly manifested gray jacket. If his "tied hands" activated at the entry, he's putting those hands in a pocket here and now. And he's doing that because Muriel led him to that decision.

Neither one seems to truly remember the other, but both are guiding each other to certain ends.

At some point, Crowley asks Muriel a question about if they knew why Gabriel would not want another Armageddon. They shake their head and answer "not yet". We were never actually shown Muriel's assignment for why they were on Earth. We were just led to believe it was to confirm the miracle that Aziraphale performed since all actions shown by the characters said so. Muriel has no problem admitting this "yet" part of their answer to Crowley.

Saraqael arrives and shows us one way Muriel could have gotten Crowley's name by addressing Crowley by name.

Later on is when Muriel actually gives the rank. Crowley gives them a friendly fist bump to the shoulder. They smile. Both of them are shown to be on friendly terms in what might be an earlier draft of the story. Even if it's not an earlier draft, I'm glad to see Crowley be on friendly terms with an angel who is not Aziraphale. He reached somewhat friendly terms with Gabriel, but the story made sure that Crowley and Gabriel had zero direct interaction on Gabriel's side once Gabriel recovered his memories. The same could be said of Muriel, now that I think about it.

There's footage of the cardboard box they both watch. Muriel's memory of the matchbox is shown in focus as an assumption it was whatever Gabriel really dropped.

On the exit to Heaven, I've long theorized that Crowley is invisible and Muriel looks scared and amazed by such a thing at the same time. I haven't really changed my mind. If Muriel is doing something to help because Muriel is in the middle on one side, and Crowley is in the middle on the other, I don't know what it is. I can just tell you that a pattern is indeed found between the two if one looks for such a thing.

I can also bring back the pockets.

When the light goes up and Crowley's appearance changes, something about his re-manifested clothes is decidedly different than usual. His tie strands are pocketed into his vest, which then means his thumbs and thumb joints are hidden. I don't know exactly what that means, but it's deliberate on the story's part. Thumbs do things to doors, and these thumbs are hiding themselves while Crowley has his back to a door. That's somehow doing whatever needs to be done for this Threshold Trick and Muriel convincing Crowley to change his appearance earlier contributed.

Also, there was a rainbow when the light went up.

We missed whatever led to Michael and Uriel joining Muriel, Saraqael, and Crowley in the elevator.

When Crowley and the angels arrive at the bookshop, Muriel quietly closes the doors without anyone asking. I'm left with the impression that those doors being opened when they were and while Crowley was in Heaven is supposed to be important. So, the timing of this closure and who is doing it is also important.

Muriel stays out of the way and on their own quite a bit throughout their time in the bookshop as they turn their attention to a book.

In turn, that means their attention is not on the cardboard box when it is retrieved to help Gabriel recover his memories.

When Gabriel recovers his memories, something strange happens. If Crowley is where the story told us he was—next to Aziraphale, Gabriel is acting like Crowley isn't there. Aziraphale glances where we were told Crowley was. Gabriel briefly follows this gaze, then changes course. In the next cut, he blinks as he passes over where Crowley would be. He names more characters, including Michael and Uriel. While he doesn't remember Saraqael's name, they are given an interaction. With Muriel on their own further back—just like Crowley—they, too, are ignored during this sequence. They are at least shown on screen. Eventually, Gabriel reacts to seeing Beelzebub, and we are informed that Crowley is still there by Aziraphale. Of course, with the scene cut the way it is, maybe he wasn't there, and all of these drafts are blending together but still telling us Crowley was ignored, possibly invisible, cloaked, or forgotten.

Even with Crowley visibly on screen as Beelzebub refers to Aziraphale by name, neither Gabriel nor Beelzebub acknowledge Crowley as having played any part in helping to look after Gabriel—or anything else for that matter.

Again, the cardboard box was notably ignored by Muriel. They were given a specific shared blur with the box. Why give the focus if nothing of fruition was to come from such a thing? That was a shared blur that Earthly Objects uses in its game, and that box went untouched.

Things move on with Crowley escorting Maggie and Nina out.

Now it really gets hard to track how Crowley is book-ending Muriel in the scenes at the end, but he is. I think he is doing it every time. He is shown to approach a window and look inside while several angels and demons are arguing. Aziraphale rings his bell, which is enough to grab Muriel's attention as well. Soon after, Crowley is shown looking through the window again and smiles.

Then they actually have a scene together where neither one of them talks. It is the Single in The Pocket Trick. The Pocket Trick is a difficult, confusing collection of puzzles that uses word play. Because Muriel wears all white and The Pocket Trick has a Rainbow Connection mechanic that uses non-rainbow shades, there is a very strong chance Muriel is helping Crowley with yet another Threshold Trick. Whatever it is, it probably has to do with the alignment of Crowley's sleeve and jacket through a window frame since that's when Muriel's white can be seen and then when Crowley's sunglasses appear in one of the window panes at a certain point since that's the exact frame where all-white-wearing Muriel is no longer on screen. Muriel's white probably held onto something the Trick needed during that part.

Muriel ends up bookend-ing both sides of the Single of the The Pocket Trick while also being in it. That means Muriel is pocketed into the last touch of The Pocket Trick.

From this point, I consider them both part of a much bigger scene between several characters that ends with the demons leaving. I also consider it the back bookend to that Pocket Trick Single.

The story cuts away to the Metatron and then back to another scene that Crowley and Muriel share with other characters. By the way, the angels and Crowley seem to have generally changed positions overall.

Eventually, everyone leaves, giving Crowley and Muriel a chance to have their own scene together.

Now Crowley is more grumpy. Even so, near the end of their scene, he throws a book at Muriel and says, "Go for it. Here, you'll like this one." How does Crowley know Muriel would like the book? Has he known that book to be liked by a past version of Muriel? Does he just generally know Muriel because they are either friends or decently acquainted even before this scene ever took place? Even if both answers are no, he is probably guiding Muriel to read that book. I have never read that book, The Crow Road, but I have read what other people analyzing Good Omens 2 have had to say about it. That book has characters who communicate in non-verbal code with each other.

That's something both Crowley and Aziraphale do frequently during Good Omens 2. Crowley is actually giving away how he and Aziraphale communicate to Muriel by choosing that book. That could be dangerous with someone he doesn't trust...but he trusts Muriel. He trusts Muriel so much he is trying to tell them something about himself without saying it out loud—or is reminding them.

The story moves on.

In the next Muriel scene, at first glance, it looks like Crowley does not get a front bookend scene with it. Instead, that's given to a mix of the Metatron and Aziraphale as Aziraphale walks away and enters the bookshop. Blended with that scene, Maggie and Nina leave the bookshop with Nina shown to be passing by the Metatron. If one goes back and looks very closely—and I definitely would have missed this part were it not for a Tumblr post I'm happening to remember, a small bit of Crowley can be found in the background when Maggie and Nina were leaving the bookshop.

Muriel has their scene with the Metatron about reading a book. This part allows Muriel's scene to be a front bookend to the last two touches of The Sunglasses Trick, which take place while Crowley and Aziraphale have their argument.

At the same time, Crowley's scene of those touches becomes the back bookend of another Muriel scene. This stuff is happening on purpose as a game from the story.

Crowley leaves. Sometime after, Muriel can be seen looking through the window with a big question of how much they saw of the argument. They saw enough to look sad—like someone who cares about Crowley as a friend would.

Muriel is barely part of the scene with the Metatron and Aziraphale yet still gets book-ended between Crowley scenes.

After that scene, Crowley is shown standing alone as he starts The Door Trick. So, again, we have Muriel acting as a front bookend to a Threshold Trick, and Crowley acting as a back bookend to a Muriel scene.

Muriel is not on screen during the entirety of The Door Trick, The Door Catch, and The Window Trick. They manage to stay out of the way during these important moments in the story even though, as best we can tell, they are somewhere nearby.

In Muriel's last scene, they still get book-ended by Crowley scenes. The Window Trick finishes. Muriel opens the door and enters the bookshop. That makes their scene a back bookend to the last Threshold Trick. Crowley's car is seen driving away. Before the credits start, Crowley is shown driving with short sideburns as the last scene of the season before the credits truly start to roll.

If I understand yet another pattern from this little game, starting from when I said this bookend thing went into hyper-drive, Crowley's supposed to be a front-and-back bookend to Muriel scenes whereas Muriel doesn't do that for as many of Crowley's scenes. They have a special pocket version for The Pocket Trick and a front-and-back bookend to the argument, which was the conclusion of The Sunglasses Trick. One could find Aziraphale's moment alone before the Metatron arrives as debatably its own scene, then Crowley just doesn't front-and-back bookend Muriel at that point. Otherwise, Muriel's supposed to bookend one side or the other of Crowley's scenes but not both.

I wasn't even looking for yet another game, but I found one.

Anyway, I think they're friends—good friends even. It's hard to say how long the friendship existed before season 2. This trust they share would also explain Muriel's last scene with Crowley trusting them to look after the bookshop as he leaves.

...

More here:

Bookend Buddies Part 2 - Crowley and Muriel

#good omens 2 #crowley #good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #good omens season 2 #good omens analysis #good omens meta #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #muriel #quelin sepulveda

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opinated-user · 1 year ago

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"if she doesn't want to associate with the community that's fine... but she doesn't get to speak for a community you reject."

then the first person you should tell this to is LO, because for years this woman has actively rejected consider herself as part of the community or even reaching out to anyone in that community. why do you think there aren't really any Natives who have ever come out to speak in defense of LO? none that wasn't an "anon" impossible to verify, that is. there are actual Native people who have seen what she does with that "heritage" and calle it out. 2. "she should have informed community leaders and walk away".

this... this is just the most terminally online take ever. did you send this again, LO? i think you did, because this is just another variant of "if i did anything that bad, then call the cops". let's put it this way: 1. why anyone would think to talk with community leaders of a community you aren't part of about some z-list tier youtube critic with a brownfacing rantsona? and 2. honest question, what exactly do you want those community leaders to do about a z-liest tier youtube critic with a brownfacing rantsona that they have never met or have any knowledge of or has enough of a big influence? do you all think LO is the first, the second or even the third person to claim to be Cherokee in the internet? do you all seriously think they're going to go out of their way to do something for each time that happens? actual Native people, especially the ones responsible for holding their communities together, have better things to do than caring about any of this. i'm not surprised that LO doesn't know or care about any of that because she has never cared before, so why start now. gygas later is going to agree with me, so what exactly is even your point here, "anon" or LO, since LO apparently shares that point of view? 3. "her pulling her i am very badass bitch" i have trouble remembering. maybe some of the people reading this can help me. who was the person who was advicing kids to grab the heaviest object they could find and cave in the skulls of their bullies? who was the person who said she wanted to grab rowling and christie goldstein golden to beat them to death with a rock in a video? who was the person who said she send a "stalker" to the hospital and got a concussion a result, but never got any medical attention for it? who was the one who said she stabbed a MAGA guy in the streets and later published pictures of her pristine, blood free, like it had never been touched before, knife in tumblr? who was the one who openly said that she hoped the skull of her ex Lizzy would cave in? what sister was that was bragging for years about punching the other fifteen times in the gut to leave them crying in the floor? who was the one who made up a story about giving out free tampons to the girls in her highschool... because for some reason they thought that made them cool rather than extremely creepy? i know that wasn't Courtney. but i can't remember who it was. i'm sure it will come to me eventually. 4. "other trans women." what trans women? you? okay, that is one. she apologized for misgendering you and saying transphobic things when she first knew about you. you're free to never forgive her for that, of course, but she never repeated that ever again and she has tried to respect your gender and pronouns just like the rest of us. but you're also her sister, one of her abusers and the one who is currently also erasing the abuse that had nothing to do with you, so i think that's good enough of a reason for her to talk about you, trans woman or not. there's also P. the trans woman that you spend years lying about and making gross insinuations about her and her child before anyone ever find out what their relationship was actually like, so the only reason you actually had to say any of it was because she responded to your lies and talked about you. that same trans woman you also doxxed her irl workplace when you heard a unconfirmed rumour from anons that she had showed Courtney's nudes to people. that same trans woman that Courtney has been speaking out as been sexually harassing her since the moment they met practically and currently is trying to paint Courtney as abusive. i'm going to go ahead and assume that you don't really care about her. you were the one revealing her real life information, not Courtney. you were the one saying "ominous" about a trans woman you didn't really know when you found out that she was a parent.

as if trans woman don't have enough false accusations of being a danger to kids. you never had a single good thing to say about P, so let's take her out of the way. which other trans women is he targeting, LO? where are they, LO? if they're such helpless victims of the evil Courtney, wouldn't you want them to get all the support that they can get? so why you're hiding them? are you really going to enable the evil Courtney to keep harming all those innocent trans women who "never did a damn thing wrong" in their entire lives? according to you, who can blame a six year old for not speaking out about your abuse, then that makes you just as bad as Courtney. just like you stayed quiet when you let an actual predator prey on your underaged audience and we begged you for days to do something about it. 5. "partake in white supremacist rethoric." white supremacist do not care about the heritage of Native people, LO. they think their culture is inferior and should be erased, replaced by their superior cultures. they think any signifier of their culture, like their language, their land and their traditions, are garbage to be disposed of. that's your opinion about them, LO. that's what you have said and acted as for years. now, i'm not calling you a white supremacist. i'm calling you a racist white person. that's a difference. 6. i forgot to mark this, but "it was difficult for me because i was both grieving and being introduced to a bunch of new people who i am always nervous about" i know i already used this meme but...

i think you had a slip there, LO. you keep blaming your parents for why you couldn't form any kind of relationship to those people. that excuse could fly when you're a kid that lives under their roof and has limited range of action. not when you're a fully grown woman living on your own... well... "on your own" is a bit of a stretch, considering you very much still count with daddy's money to keep you afloat when your poorly through out videos flop. but you don't live with them. you could have contacted those people on your own, nobody was stopping you. nothing but your own racist notion that being claimed by the Nation somehow meant being forced to live in a "ghetto" reservation the rest of your life. and yet you didn't. Courtney has kept in contact with your aunt. the aunt who is dissapointed in you and wants nothing to do with you. funny how you completely glossed over that, huh?

7. "i have a lot more reason to hate people in the family." you alone decided that he was lying about being raped by your older brother and told to "get over it" by your parents, LO. you alone decided that because that's an easier narrative that both discredit Courtney talking about the abuse you inflicted on him, but also keep the good relationship you want with the transphobic brother who wished you died in order to prey on his children. especially that 6 year old niece. i bet she being that young brings you memories of when Courtney was that same age, doesn't it?

8. "i barely know my grandparents or my aunt or uncles specifically because i was kept away from them so my parent's abuse wasn't discovered." so what is your excuse now? as a 30 year old woman, what is your excuse to not even message your aunt, the only claimed by a Nation relative you have left alive? or you're going to made up they left you another "family heirloom" just after they die, like you did for your grandpa? Courtney has kept in contact with them, despite not wanting anything to do with the rest of the family. it's really that easy. you could always reach out, you have been able to since daddy got you a new house just so you could stop living under his roof. it's okay, LO. you don't pretend to care about a community of people you obviously don't. just say that your "reclaiming heritage" is your burning sage in your room and buying dreamcatchers. that you have no intention of ever being part of their culture. just say already that you think their culture is trash and it's only good as a flee market to pick and chose the part you like. it's what you already imply with the way you act, might as well stop being a coward and be open about it.

9. "my niece and nephew." the more you keep remarking how much you had to endure in order to be close to those children, the more disturbed i get. is it really worth it, LO? having a 6 year old little girl to trust you is really worth forgiving the father who beat you until you were 15, the brother who is transphobic to you to this day and the mother who saw it all and let it happen? is your "love" for little girls that great? i'd say that Courtney really did a number on you, but that would imply that Courtney actually did anything for you to obsess over him even now. you just keep searching for a replacement, just like in your writing, you keep holding to that thought that one day, someway, somehow, you'll finally have that incest lesbian relationship you think Disney gave you in Frozen. don't think i forgot how you also sometimes ship aunts/uncles with their nieces. 10. "she'll get hurt doing it." now, who is the one pretending to be a badass? 11. "i was a pretty disturbed teenager all those years ago." and you have taken absolutely zero accountability or responsability for none of that for decades at this point. you keep blaming your teenage years in writing stockholm (when you aren't lying that other people edited to make you look worse), but you were an adult already when writing about rainbow fantasizing with 14 year old Courtneys, i mean characters. when you do try to talk about being a teenage, you try so desperately to try to make you seem like an untouchable badass that was so cool, knew better than everyone and went unappreciated for so long. a part of me understand that when you were actually an outcast with no friends, that kind of narrative can be comforting, even if nobody actually believes on them. i imagine it must feel great to pretend you always knew everything, including homework, was abuse, because admit that once you were an innocent kid who couldn't understand what was happening is scary. it's scary to admit that someone took advantage of you being so small and then don't have any idea of what to do about it. it's admit that you were vulnerable, helpless and completely powerless. nobody blames you for that. unlike you blaming 6 year old Courtney about not speaking for the abuse you went through, and that he didn't really know about, we do understand that kids should never be responsible for stopping the abuse that awful adults decided to inflict on them.

but you did had a choice to not hurt other people. no amount of abuse you ever went through would make it okay that you kept going to until you were physically unabled to. Courtney has come to terms with what he did because of his trauma and openly admits it. you can't even do that, and not happy with that alone, erase the abuse that had nothing to do with you. because Courtney hates the family for no reason, right? there's no reason for why she'd decide to go no contact for years? there's no reason for why she wouldn't go to your grandpa's funeral? his rapist and enablers being there couldn't ever be a reason.

10. ngl, the way you just keep harping on the runaway boyfriend of Courtney as the main reason why Courtney is supposedly bitter with his life is so weird... couldn't be that you were that jelous of that boyfriend, LO? because they took your "baby sister" away from you? or maybe because, unlike you, that boyfriend did had consent to touch him without him being knocked out? because Courtney was actually happy with him? because it was thanks to him that Courtney was able to lose contact with all of you? Courtney's version of the story is that she's just grateful to being able to get out of that house and i believe him. but it does feel to me like that boyfriend only accelerated what was going to happen anyway. Courtney was always going to cut ties with all of you. he was never going to forgive you for hurting him the way you did. you were never going to find understanding or being told that it was okay, you're not a bad person for molesting and trying to coerce your sibling into commiting incest for almost a decade. even if that boyfriend never existed, you were never going to unlock her door again. but you don't realize that, so you keep building this narrative that decision destroyed the rest of her life and now, as a 30 year old person, Courtney can't stand it. just so you feel better thinking that somehow she'd be better if she just stayed with that family. Courtney took the very first chance he had to abandon you, he was glad to do so. the saddest part is that you still refuse to understand you were part of the reason why that happened. you drove your sibling away, LO. not that boyfriend. 12. gygas literally said it there: Courtney has been in contact with your aunt. you don't. this "internet drama" is you stealing from their culture and claiming an identity that has nothing to do with you. you never even attempted to reach out to those people and you admit it alone here.

#lily orchard

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