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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do. You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.”

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it. Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends. You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

**************************************

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs.

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.” You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved, you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful. She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

“Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.”

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away. It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

“You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way? Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way."

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath. "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk. “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben." You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

*************************************

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

********************************************

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Text

a panacea

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pan·a·ce·a noun

a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases.

summary: In pharmacy school, patient interaction was a core part of the curriculum. You tirelessly remember long, coffee-fueled nights going over your notes for each Professional Practice Skills class. The 141 boys make sure you can exercise these communication skills daily.

141's medical file reference

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and needles, fluff, flirting, and mutual crushes

a/n: i'm an american pharmacy student so sorry for some inaccuracies about how pharmacy across the pond

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As you walked into the pharmacy and began your shift, you paged through a few recent scripts and checked in with your technicians. Your graduation from university, years of clinical experience, and now your more recent military training seemed like a distant memory. You would constantly see a variety of service men and women every day without much thought. Yes, there were some repeat individuals but overall everything seemed to blend.

Despite this, you still attempted to form a meaningful interaction with each patient regardless of what they’d be picking up. Doctors were constantly bothersome with questions about the recommended treatment and asking for a drug not listed on the formulary. Patients were different though, you would always try to have a friendly conversation and wonder what missions they would be deployed on once they left the queue. As you prepared to work through today’s prescriptions and tackle a new medication supply, you reminded yourself that today was filled with a new set of faces to meet.

price

The members of 141 were all too familiar with a distant employment in a foreign country. It was part of the job description, something you do without question. However, some countries had the luxury of also having medication to take for the duration of the trip. Malaria is no joke and you always had to ensure you ordered an abundant supply of antimalarials for the soldiers constantly going around the world.

Today was no exception, your new order had literally been flying off the shelves. It was the post-breakfast rush and you had a few boxes left of atovaquone/proguanil (Malarone). Although the frequency of taking these was a pain, you loved the easy verification and packaging of the box.

As you continued to provide the queue with their prescriptions, a familiar face and hat made its way to the front.

"Ah Captain Price, back again?" you grinned as he approached the counter.

"Back too soon," the man chuckled, the deep baritone of his laugh bouncing across the walls. "I believe I have a couple of things to pick up from you, love."

With that, you pulled his file up and confirmed his array of medications. Generally, nothing out of the ordinary you noted and acknowledged the new addition of Malarone.

"Yes just give me a moment," you replied as you went to grab his bag.

As the bottles rattled around in the bag, you took a peek and counted the correct number of bottles/boxes, and verified their appearance.

"Now are you going for leisure or work? I saw the newest order for an antimalarial." Secretly you knew the answer but there was always the possibility that the Captain was going on leave.

He let out another small chuckle, "I think you know the answer to that one, doll. Duty calls."

You smiled back, the small inclusion of pet names brightening your day. "Alright then, and I'm assuming you know the regimen. This isn't your first rodeo."

"Yeah, take one for the next day, every day there, and for the week when I get back." You hummed in agreement with his response and he gave you a quick thanks before turning to go.

"Oh but while you're here, any interest in some smoking cessation recommendations!" Like before, you knew the answer. This man was loyal to his country and even more loyal to his cigars. The air filled with the fragrance of musk and cigar smoke whenever he came in definitely made an impression on you.

With this last comment, he let out a final, breathy laugh before responding, "You are many things, Captain, but that's a fucking miracle I don't believe you can pull off."

soap

Infections were no surprise to you. Especially working in the military, there was plenty of incidence for it. Most of the time and even after the doctor patched them up and directed them on proper care, there would still be a select few that would return with an infection.

The rest of the morning was quiet, you were able to catch up on some documentation and had time to pop into the medical wing to provide your pharmacist expertise. That's why when everyone's favorite Scot came by to pick up his antibiotic you didn't mind the company.

"Hi gorgeous, I'm here because of some doc's slipshod job stitching me up." He beamed as he raised his forearm to reveal new stitches and a clearly red, inflamed area. You quickly pulled up his file and your suspicions of an infection were confirmed.

"Sure, MacTavish. I completely believe that the medic specifically botched yours out of the whole team," you sarcastically replied. You served multiple tours with the "guilty" medic and knew they were of equal expertise to you. There was a reason they were performing surgeries while you provided insight and the medication. "I also trust you managed to keep the wound clean and didn't do anything stupid like, I don't know, training instead of resting," you finished as you raised an eyebrow.

He looked like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Ah good one, Doc, I guess nothing is getting past you."

"Mhmm, I'll make you think twice about negatively referring to my colleagues. And again, you know I'm not a doctor. If I were, you know I wouldn't be so willing to stitch you up and send you on your way" you jokingly threatened. He shuddered slightly, he wouldn't want to imagine a world where you were his medic on the battlefield. But then again, his constant injuries would mean frequent visits.

"But I would get to see that gorgeous face of yours more," he joked and you could feel your face flush. His flirty antics and your eye rolls were a staple of this relationship.

"Do you talk to everyone this way?" you countered, "I bet your superiors love the constant flow of compliments and just blush at your tone."

"Oh yes, they do. My Lieutenant turns into a giggling mess underneath his mask. Do you know he's bloody handsome under that? You should try flooding him with pet names and admiration to see for yourself." He responded, a clear sarcasm in his voice evident even with his familiar accent.

"Will do, MacTavish. Now will you let me get your medication so I can return you to your loverboy?"

"Of course, Captain" he saluted exaggeratedly as you walked to the rows of shelves.

You opened the bag and then placed the verified medication into his hand. "You know the routine and for the love of God, please finish the amount in here. I don't want to be seeing another order for Augmentin from you any time soon!"

"Yes, love, but nothing can stop this machine from gathering more illnesses and wounds requiring your expert care." You rolled your eyes as he explained and gave a cocky gesture showcasing his chiseled injured body.

"Don't mess with me, you know I can easily sneak my way into the med ward and make sure you go nighty-night." You were bluffing, the Hippocratic oath painfully engraved in your mind. But it didn't hurt to joke back.

"Oh I'll be sure to watch out for you, scary legal drug dealer." With this last jab, he walked out and left you chuckling to yourself at his antics.

gaz

The flowers and trees were in full bloom around the base. It reminded you of the days studying outside and crying over learning your Year 2 immunology coursework. However, just like immunology, pollen just made your job more difficult. It seemed like the scripts for nasal sprays and allergy medication were endless. Day after day you would go to work with your technician as you helped their workload by filling the myriad of prescriptions.

Following the quiet lunch hour, the pharmacy quickly became flooded with people. As a younger soldier presented to your counter, you could immediately guess what they were here for.

Although he was not one of your repeat offenders, his watery eyes and the constant flow of sniffles made it clear that he was another victim of the unrelenting pollen.

“Garrick, Kyle,” he said and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he stood there a sniffling mess. You typed his name in and checked his credentials as he turned to sneeze.

“Ah yes, you have a nasal spray and another prescription here. Just give me a moment.” You walked away from the counter as you heard him chuckle and call out, “You wouldn’t happen to have a panacea back there would you?”

“Unfortunately I do not,” you said and frowned upon your return, “But just take these once a day with water and use the nasal spray as needed. One puff in each nose should do the trick and don’t forget to shake it!” You explained. Holding the small container of pills you noted, "Plus this is Piriteze, so you won't feel tired after taking but I usually recommend taking a half hour before you know you're going outside or having any interaction with pollen."

He nodded in agreement and took out a tissue to blow his nose for the hundredth time today. This action didn't relieve his congestion. Allergies were really the bane of everyone's existence and you felt for him as he let out a couple of sneezes and apologized.

As he took the bag you gently said, “Sometimes something spicy really clears everything out. Spice has the benefit of being both delicious and working as a decongestant. You’ll definitely need some tissues but it’s worth it in my opinion.” With that, you offered a wink and sent him on his way.

"You're truly an angel. I'll be sure to update you, love," he beamed at you with a dashing smile. You would be flattered if it had not been for his subsequent barrage of sneezes.

A few days later, a pleased Gaz returned to you and explained your life hack had worked. One half bottle of hot sauce later and he had been congestion free. Brushing your astonishment at his spice tolerance aside, you explained that it had been just the medicine. However, Gaz would soon be giving everyone an earful of your non-conventional methods. Although his mates constantly joked about the image of him drowning in snot (a picture gracefully captured by Soap), he was thankful for you, the pretty pharmacist, and the help.

ghost

You could feel the headache forming from the fluorescent lights and the busy day you were currently having. This morning new missions called for you to enforce the regimen of taking antimalarials and in the afternoon, returning soldiers required pain medication and antibiotics (although you were thankful these were tablets and not through IVs). However, this was no challenge to you and you were further encouraged by the recent positive interactions you’d been having.

Just as you stepped away for a water break, your desktop notified you of a patient awaiting their prescription. You sighed and walked over to see the patient file as well as what medication they’d be receiving today.

You read the name carefully and slowly, partially because of your tiredness as well as your irrational fear of giving the patient the wrong medication.

“Riley, Simon” you mumbled and kept repeating the name as you walked amongst the rows of bags to retrieve the medication.

Just some routine painkillers. You examined the container to verify the oval, white pills of paracetamol.

As you notified the waiting soldier, your computer showed a reminder that they were due for a flu shot. You smiled, immunizations were often done routinely through a clinic but sometimes, you would get a break from your day and be able to administer one.

You acknowledged the reminder just as the soldier walked up. Tall, brooding, and donning a unique balaclava, you presumed this was Simon Riley. Your earlier conversation with Soap made you realize that this was the man who put up with all of his antics. You wondered if the paracetamol was for an injury or his raging headache from his Sergeant.

Recognizing his rank, you greeted him warmly and went to verify his patient credentials. He was a quiet man, only replying to your necessary prompts. This further added evidence that the medication was because of Soap, the chatterbox that he is. As you handed over his prescription, you let him know the bad news.

“Unfortunately, you are due for a flu shot but I can have you out of here in less than 15 minutes if you’d like?” you smiled, "or you could always just have me refer you out to get it while you're on leave."

"I'll do it now, don't know the next time I'd be returning," he spoke lowly. You wondered where he would be off to next as he pocketed the medication and nodded in agreement.

You motioned for him to sit in the designated area and prepared the necessary materials. As you walked over to the vaccine area now occupied by the large man, you positioned yourself to the side of him. You performed your typical routine of verifying the prescription and noting the necessary numbers before you felt the need to break the silence.

“You know, I used to be terrified of these as a child. I hope you didn’t have the same experience, Lieutenant,” you chuckled as you began to clean his bicep. You admired the tattoo on his right arm, so intricate and beautiful.

“I’ve had much worse, trust me,” he replied and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. Well, I guess the man of few words has a sense of humor.

“That’s good to hear! You wouldn’t imagine the number of recruits that squirm even before I’ve begun to prep their arm. I thought all that training taught you guys to be tough.” With this, you both laughed and you began to position your hand ensuring the needle was going into the proper area.

You felt him slightly tense under your touch but you gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. You knew as a child that the best way was to finish the vaccine before they even had time to react.

“You can hold my hand if you’d like,” you joked, not realizing that he was pink under his mask. "Or you could be a good little soldier and I might give you a lolly" you continued further, teasing the man. He was so glad to have the safety of concealment as you were really rubbing it in. He waved you off with his other hand and you went about a quick administration.

“See that’s not so bad,” you smiled and you went to apply a bandage. Unfortunately, you realized you were out of your typical issued bandaids and quickly grabbed a colorful, neon star one.

He glanced down and responded with a low, “What the hell is that?”

“I’m sorry it’s the only one I have at the moment, but you should be able to take it off before bed tonight!” you apologized and you fastened it onto his strong bicep.

Little did you know that your small talk and neon bandage had endeared you to the Lieutenant. Your reassuring touch and soft actions made him believe you’d be a better fit for a position in pediatrics than here. Although he would have to explain the ridiculous stars, he found himself wanting to get all of his vaccines from you.

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first time writing and posting here in like forever! hope you enjoyed this mw2 content :)

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voredere · 8 months

Text

Did you know:

-agab is decided arbitrarily, sometimes by a doctor, and sometimes by the parents, based primarily on their best guess as to which gender will work out best or which surgery has the "best" prognosis.

-agab is not necessarily determined by the baby's genital configuration, hormone profile, or genetics. it is literally just whatever the doctor and/or parents thought sounded good at the time.

-sometimes agab is reassigned equally arbitrarily due to childhood genital injury.

-some people do not have an AGAB

-some intersex people used agab colloquially to refer to whichever sex they personally consider their "birth sex" regardless of their actual AGAB.

-some peoples agab does not actually align with what they, or society, would view as their "biological sex"

-(this is because "biological sex" as a concept is pretty bullshit to be clear)

-some people do not discover that their sex was reassigned at birth until adulthood

when we discuss concepts like TME/TMA, we need to keep these things in mind. TME/TMA are great terms because they're explicitly inclusive of intersex individuals. but there's an alarming amount of people misconstruing the words, using them as synonyms for AFAB/AMAB, or defining them based on AGAB, which accomplishes very little beyond shutting intersex people out of a conversation that very much includes and impacts us.

i understand TME intersex people absolutely exist, and absolutely are capable of perpetuating transmisogyny, but there are also intersex TMA people out there and we are constantly, CONSTANTLY shut out of conversations and viewed as invaders by the trans community, by the queer community at large, with our struggles viewed as collateral damage of someone else's struggle that we, without exception, are never allowed to claim.

we are viewed as filthy, alien creatures by everyone we meet, even in "queer leftist" spaces. our bodies are fetishised and commodified, and there are dozens of wild assumptions about us. we are never real men or women or even people, just some third category good for porn or shock value to be rejected and disposed of and speculated about like we aren't there everywhere else. we are relegated to sex work and freak shows. and yes, we are excluded from sports, locker rooms, restrooms, "lesbian"/"womens" spaces, queer spaces at large, housing, employment, medical care, and so on.

some of identify as cis, but a lot of us never had the option to be cis. many of us are essentially assigned tranny at birth and that was the end of it. many of us were called slurs before we were old enough to know what they meant.

we are not collateral damage. we are not invaders. we are not appropriators. we are part of your stuggle, we are your siblings, and if we don't stand up for each other, trust me: no one else will.

#intersex #trans #transmisogyny #transphobia

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jentrovert · 2 months

Text

Love to Hate You ♡

(Charlie Dalton x Fem Reader)

Enemies to Lovers Oneshot!

Warnings: Swearing, 1950’s stereotypes (purity, clothing style, cigarettes), mentions of neglect, immature high school drama, talk of paddling at school, dumb pranks, kissing, romance, teen partying, suggestive flirting, mention of a diet, moral grayness, parental issues, arguing, drinking, jealously, reader possesses slight anger issues, Neil lives and all is well.

Synopsis: The highly regarded Welton Academy has two buildings, one strictly for girl students, and the other for young boys. By a turn of events, they all end up having to share study hall together in the afternoons. (Y/n), your typical rich, hyper-feminine prima donna, thinks she’s in charge of Welton Academy. With her squeaky clean reputation and unwavering confidence, surely no one will ever see her sweat. However, being the drama queen that she is, she takes her first encounter with Charlie Dalton as a personal attack. Teenage chaos ensues. ~

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Authors Note: Hello! I just got into DPS, and I don’t write very much, so be gentle. This was originally supposed to be a dumb little blurb I wrote without intent to post. Short and silly. Obviously it’s based on the movie, but I also made it my own. Reader is referred to as a female, woman, and girl. She/Her pronouns used. It’s mentioned once that the reader has hair, but other than that, if something doesn’t feel neutral as far as the reader’s appearance, please let me know. Feel free to request! :)

Dramatic Princess Society

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To say you were a diva was a staggering understatement. Everyone who graced your presence could see that you were in control of any room you happened to wander into. You weren’t a princess; you were the princess. A fond nickname you’d developed as well. You were never afraid to say whatever was on your mind, and you figured that really wasn’t such a bad thing. You just knew what you wanted, and that was all.

It didn’t help that your wealthy parents constantly fed into your ego, insistently showering you with lavish clothes and gifts to distract you from the fact that they only saw their child a few times a year. The only time your mother really gave you any guidance or contacted you at all was to ask about your diet or your clothing size, which was honestly fine by you. You had a social hierarchy to rule over, and that kept you plenty busy. Yeah, you were vain, and maybe even a bit too proud, but if anyone had the right to be, it was certainly you.

Your parents had pushed you into doing all sorts of extracurricular activities throughout your childhood and adolescence. They put a lot of weight on status and education, so failure just wasn’t an option in their eyes. You were meant to sit above everyone else at all times with a crown fixed on your head. Maybe if you could accomplish that, then you’d have to be good enough in their eyes.

What most people didn’t usually see, however, was the bleeding heart beneath all of that pompous prestige. Just below the surface, there was a young girl who wanted the same thing every other teenager so desperately did: to be accepted. But no one was going to knock down that wall you’d built.

On par for the course, you attended Welton Academy, one of the most distinguished prep schools in the country, made strictly for young women like yourself. The catch was that just across the lake from your school, there was another high school identical to your own, except it was made for young men instead.

The girl’s building was a fairly recent addition to the school grounds themselves. Neither of them weren’t necessarily close in proximity, but they were close enough that you could always see the opposing building. On the rare occasion of a mixed assembly, the Welton staff were always swift to pull you in opposite directions when the event had ended. There would be absolutely no one partaking in any premarital activities on their watch. The adults around you were very strict in that regard.

“What do you think the boys are doing over there right now?” Your roomate Maddie wondered aloud, her elbows propped up on the seal of your dorm window as she ogled dreamily across the lake.

You gave a teasing scoff as you turned away from your chemistry work to face her. “Probably using binoculars to stare at our building so hard that their eyes are getting sore.”

“You think?” She chirped in almost a hopeful tone, glancing over her shoulder at you.

Your eyes nearly rolled out of your head as you went back to reading. “That’s not a good thing, Madison. They’re a bunch of little perverts, and everyone knows it.”

“Maybe I should wear prettier night gowns,” She mused, ignoring your input completely.

You groaned. “Gross. For the love of all holy, please just close the shutters.”

“At least you said ‘please’ for once,” Madison grumbled, doing just as you’d told her before deciding to turn in for the night.

You sighed, playing with a strand of your hair. “Madison. They’re just boys; I promise you, they don’t have anything special.”

Once you heard Maddie’s mischievous giggle, you already knew where she was about to go with that statement.

“Oh, I’d beg to differ on that one.”

You couldn’t help the grin that cracked across your face, but you waved a dismissive hand in her direction.

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight, then all the boys wouldn’t be scared of you,” She stated through laughter.

You looked over at her again, brows raised. “Ha! Shows how much you know. That’s the way I like it,” You hummed, shrugging your shoulders as you inspected the polish on your nails. “But who could really blame them? I’m pretty intimidating, if I do say so myself.

Now it was Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever you say, princess,” She said, bowing theatrically before flopping back on her pillow. “Can you cut the lights off already? You’ve been looking at that forever.”

“Oh I have to say ‘please’, but you don’t?” You huffed at her, but obliged anyway.

Cutting off your lamp, you followed Maddie’s lead and crawled beneath your own blankets, curling into a cozy little ball. Your eyes lingered on the ceiling for a while before you finally drifted off. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if there really was anything interesting about the boys over there. You doubted it, but you wouldn’t know unless you saw for yourself. Perhaps they could make things a little less boring in your current life. As much as you appreciated all the praise from your female peers, it was getting a little tired.

The next afternoon, it was nearing the end of the school day when you were sitting in Mrs. Newman’s class, daydreaming about your next salon appointment before dismissal. That’s when the older woman made an extremely important announcement to the class. Apparently, the boy’s library was under some new renovations, and as such, all of the boys who still wanted to attend study hall were instructed to use the girl’s library in your building until construction was over.

Your eyes widened when you heard the news, and you’d never admit it, but your heart also sped up a little at the thought. A few coy giggles echoed through the room as Mrs. Newman spoke.

“Now, ladies,” Your senile instructor boomed, scanning the room with a very firm look on her face. “I expect nothing but professional behavior from you all, and anything to the contrary will not be taken lightly. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Newman,” The class cooed in unison, not sounding nearly convincing enough.

You never thought you’d live to see the day Welton Academy would actually allow males and females to mingle. Hell had finally frozen over, you thought.

Newman kept a narrow eye on all of you as she dismissed class, but none of you seemed to pay her any mind. You were all too busy laughing and gossiping about what it would be like to merge study hall with boys. You must’ve heard your name being called a hundred times as you made your way to your locker.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Did you hear?! We get to be with the boys every single day for the next few weeks!” A freshman girl named Rachel beamed as she approached.

The mundane expression never left your face. “Duh, of course I did. That’s all anyone’s talked about for the last five minutes.”

She deflated a bit. “Oh. Right. Um, I like your makeup today, by the way… Always, really.”

“Of course, Rach. You know me,” You remarked, stopping to fiddle with the combination on your locker. You could see her grin from your peripheral as she started to turn away.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you later, (Y/n)!”

You wiggled your fingers in her direction as you sorted through the books you wanted for study hall. You liked Rachel; she had great fashion sense, but she was a little too boy-obsessed for you, even worse than Maddie. You refused to give young men so much of your attention. They should be excited to see you, not the other way around. You’d never judge her or anyone else for it, but there was no way you were going to be dubbed a ‘tramp’ and end up being an outcast from your social groups. At least that’s what your parents told you would happen. So a boy would need to have something truly magical in order to make you break a sweat over them.

As you gripped your stack of books and began making your way to the now highly sought-after library, a small group of girls began trailing close behind you, a couple of them throwing affirmations your way about your hair or outfit. A few of them you knew, a few you didn’t, but at least you never had to worry about sitting alone.

“(Y/n), I love your pink socks.”

“Thanks. You know I just can’t be bothered with their horrid dress code. The patterns on the skirts are bad enough.”

“(Y/n), where did you get your bag?”

“Don’t remember. I just grabbed one this morning.”

“(Y/n), are you going to talk to any boys?”

“They can come up and talk to me if they want.”

“If they dare,” Maddie laughed, amplifying the string of constant giggles behind you.

You had your hand on the library door, ready to push it open, when a high-pitched voice startled you by crying, “Wait!”

You pulled away, immediately recognizing a sophomore named Jenny as she rushed over, peaking her head through the window of the large double doors.

“Ohmygosh,” She whispered. “They’re really in there.”

The group laughed, but you simply nudged her aside. “Please, Jen. Of course they are.”

“Oh! Let me pick where to sit!” Maddie begged with her sad brown eyes.

You thought about it briefly and ultimately caved in to her request. She cheered as she took a turn looking through the window, scanning each male specimen with great precision. A few women were in the library already, but not too many just yet. You tapped your foot impatiently, staring at the side of Maddie’s head while you waited on her decision.

“Pick cute ones to sit by!” A little red-headed girl commented, and the rest of them whispered amongst themselves in agreement.

You huffed, stamping your foot a bit as you began to push by your classmates. “For God’s sake, women, can we pull ourselves together a bit? Maddie Garcia, you’ve got two seconds before I pick for you.”

“Okay! Okay!” She squealed. “Um… That one! That table right there.” You stepped beside her, observing the large table that she’d pointed out. It was only half full, with one side harboring a fairly normal-looking group of young men, and the other side vacant.

“Fine. Perfect.”

Giving the entrance a quick shove, the group began filing in to the library one by one. Maddie and Rachel stayed by your side in order to get a closer look at the scope of people, and the rest of them hung behind you shyly. If the boys weren’t looking your way already, they certainly were after you haphazardly dropped your pile of books on the table. The rest of the girls sheepishly sorted out which chairs to take, making sure to leave a space between them and any boys. Almost instantly, you began burying yourself in your chemistry book, ignoring the girl’s whispering and the boy’s eyes that were burning holes in your head. You couldn’t believe all that fuss was just for them to not even talk to a single male in the room. You simply had no time for the nonsense.

After a while, everyone seemed to settle in and get back to their books and homework like normal, but every minute or so, Maddie would tap on you and ask, “What about that one? Is he cute?”, only for you to look over and shrug. More and more students came through during the hour. The library had stayed surprisingly quiet, so you figured the boys must be on their best behavior in the new environment. They were very careful not to say anything too loudly about any of you, though you knew what they were probably talking about when they lowered their voices. It was fine by you as long as they weren’t being overly distracting.

Your friends, on the other hand, weren’t doing anything with their time except yammering on; their books were open to a random page in the hopes that none of the teachers would actually notice. That day probably set a record for how many students attended study hall in Welton history, and the ironic part was hardly anyone was studying.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” A girl named Tayla asked, catching your attention.

You looked up at her in acknowledgment, so she continued. “How do you always keep from getting in trouble during Mr. Baker’s class?”

You thought about it for a second and laughed. “Well, you see, if you misbehave in a male teacher’s class, but you simultaneously wear a skirt that’s two sizes too small, then they won’t paddle you. None of them would dare make you bend over in a skirt that short.”

And you were right; teachers wouldn’t paddle you if your clothing seemed too short, so you always made sure wear clothing from previous school years if you were planning on causing problems. It may have been a shoddy thing for you to do, but so was hitting your students with an object, you thought. At least this way you could laugh about it.

A few of them giggled, one calling you a ‘genius’ in a playful manner. However, you could see from across the table that a few of the boys had suddenly turned rather crimson, and you knew it was likely from your conversation. You couldn’t fault them, because you weren’t exactly being quiet. Though you wouldn’t concern yourself with it either. If they were embarrassed, that was their problem.

A toothy smile graced your lips as you returned to your book, feeling oddly triumphant in your “advice”. But alas, you couldn’t revel in it; you had chemistry work that desperately needed your attention as well. Your parents would have your head if your grades proved any less than perfect.

You’d sat at the head of the table, trying your best to focus for at least a few minutes once everyone had gone quiet. However, rather than focusing on chemistry formulas, you’d slowly started to take notice of a young brunette who sat opposite you. He wasn’t doing anything particularly special, just chewing gum and trying to kick one of his friends under the table, not paying much mind to the new female table-mates. One of his classmates had called him “Charlie”, which was a name you actually recognized. You’d definitely heard a few of the girls talk about him before, and his not-so-appropriate stories.

You took a moment to observe the details of his face and the way he interacted with his friends, your work now long forgotten. He seemed so confident and loud, clearly a class clown as well. His boyish features were pretty charming, if you had to admit it. Soft and mischievous at the same time. The uniform looked handsome on him too. His looks and mannerisms definitely made you want to get to know him a bit better.

Suddenly, the same male you were admiring cleared his throat in a loud, dramatic sort of fashion, catching everyone at the table’s attention. He made quite a show of folding his hands out in front of him on the table, leaning toward you with direct eye contact, so you knew that whatever he was about to say, he was talking to you.

You cocked a brow at the boy, clueless as to what he could possibly be drawing so much attention for.

“Ma’am, since I don’t see any paint or an easel in front of you, I’m going to have to ask that you refrain from staring, please. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but it is very distracting at the moment,” He explained in mock concern, smiling in almost a taunting sort of fashion.

Your eyes blew wide, your jaw all but dropping to the floor as everyone who was listening turned to see your reaction. A few other tables had heard the disturbance as well. Your back suddenly straightened, and you opened and closed your mouth a few times in an attempt to defend yourself, but nothing came out. Normally, you’d fire off something snarky in return, maybe even insulting, but instead, your mind was rendered completely blank. It was strange, really. Sex and everything related to it were extremely taboo, especially with the way you’d been raised. It was one thing when you were talking to your female peers, but having a male address you in that sort of manner was kind of petrifying.

Your cheeks burned with humiliation from all the giggles that met your ears. His gaze never left yours as a huge smirk began to paint his features, causing you to avert your eyes. You couldn’t remember when you became so shy.

“I, uh...” Your eyes darted around to various on-looking students. “Whatever,” you muttered, propping your book up in a way that would block most people from seeing your face.

A symphony of “Ooo’s” echoed from all around you, the group of boys laughing as they playfully punched their friend on the shoulder. Only one boy in a vest who sat closest seemed to give Charlie a displeased look. Some of your own friends began poking you and laughing themselves. Your skin was on fire. You hardly even interacted with men in your day to day life, much less experienced this. You were mortified. You could only take it for a few more moments before you stood straight up from your chair, slamming your chemistry book. Charlie and a couple of your friends were the only ones who noticed the tantrum you were throwing, and Maddie stood to follow you as you made your way out of the library.

You practically stomped out of the room, never once looking behind you. “Who the hell even is that? Who does he think he is talking to me that way? This is why they shouldn’t be over here,” You ranted, directing it toward Maddie, even though she hadn’t caught up to you yet.

Before the door could shut behind both of you, someone had flung it open once more. You turned to see if the rest of the girls were following you, only to be met with his face again. You groaned and began walking faster to your locker.

“Hey!” The boy laughed, hurrying to catch you. “Hey, hold on-”

You didn’t answer, the click of your heels being the only noise you made. Maddie didn’t say anything either, but she watched the two of you with suspicious eyes.

“Wait a second,” He urged, attempting to grab your sleeve before you swatted him away.

“Who do you think you are, exactly?” You snapped, suddenly spinning on your heel to face him. He nearly tripped over his feet to stop himself from running into you.

“Uh, I think I’m Charlie,” he stated, taking a couple steps backward.

Your eyes narrowed. “And what do you want? Why are you trying to humiliate me?”

Charlie stared at you for a second, then let out a small chuckle as he began rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Ah, I see. You’re one of those types.”

“Excuse me?” You seethed, digging your nails into your textbooks. “One of what type? Nobody is like me, not even close, so get that straight.”

The male put his hands up in defense. “Now, I didn’t mean it like that, babe.”

Throwing him a fake laugh, you rolled your eyes and continued the journey to your dorm. “Babe? I’m not your babe; my name is (Y/n). Now go torture some other girl.”

Charlie stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched you walk away, glancing over at Maddie, who had yet to follow you again. "Well, now I have to torture her,” he said.

“Good luck with that. She’s, like, the queen of Welton,” Maddie laughed. “Although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody work her up that much before.”

Charlie hummed, fixed on the spot you once stood. “Well, then the king himself will just have to take that as a challenge.”

The next few days went by with you avoiding study hall like the plague, no matter how much any of the other girls begged you to go. You were sick, you were hungry, you were tired—anything it took to avoid him until you were certain the whispers had died down. You hated his cocky demeanor. You were the only one who should be cocky at Welton. Of course, the rumor of your “crush” had made its rounds by now, much to your dismay. Maddie told you she’d heard some of the boys talking about it as well. The majority of girls just couldn’t shut up about how cute you’d be together with one the “poetry nerds”.

You must’ve been asked a dozen times if you and Charlie were dating, and for once you wished people would stop paying so much attention to you. That was the point where you’d had enough. There was no way you were going to let people think you had a thing for that clown, absolutely no way. You knew he just liked to flirt with every girl anyway, so his advances meant nothing to you. He had embarrassed you on purpose, and you were going to make damn sure you returned the favor someday. These were your school grounds, not his, and not anybody else’s either. Mr. Nolan, the old bat, could take that fact and shove it for all you cared.

The day you finally went back to study hall was on a Friday. There was a chemistry test on Monday morning, and no matter how much you detested it, you really could’ve used one of the boys’ help to study. This chapter of Chemistry was your weak point, and you’d heard a lot of good things about a boy called “Meeks” and his godlike abilities in that realm. You’d seen him sitting around Charlie on that fateful day, which troubled you at first, but once you thought about it for a while, an idea started forming in your brain. That’s where your friend Rachel came in.

Rachel had an affinity for lizards, frogs, and any other small creature that crawled along the ground, which was just perfect for you. You just hoped Charlie loved lizards as much as she did. By the time Friday afternoon had rolled around, you all but dragged Rachel out and down to the library. You could tell she was very unsure, but went along with you anyway.

You stopped and turned to her right outside the doors. “Did you catch one?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, crouching down to fish through her bag.

After a moment, she stood, holding out her hand to reveal a small lizard gently clenched in her grasp. You grinned a wide, maniacal grin, carefully taking the creature from her hands. He was small enough that he would hopefully go undetected for a while, which is exactly what you wanted.

“Thanks, Rach. Alright, c’mon, let’s go,” You instructed, holding the creature in one hand behind your back.

“Ok—ay,” Rachel replied, trialing behind you with your chemistry books in hand.

You strutted right through the room and towards Steven Meeks’ table, ignoring any whispers you heard along the way. Sure enough, Charlie was sitting right beside the Meeks boy, laughing at something his friend had said.

Perfect.

As you approached, most of the table’s attention had turned your way. Charlie immediately plastered that smug look across his face at the sight of you. You scowled at first, but quickly switched your expression to something nice and welcoming as you looked toward Steven, leaning down to his level once you were beside him.

“Hello, gentlemen. Do you mind if I steal your friend Steven for a moment? Rachel and I are seriously clueless when it comes to chemistry, and we need some help for our test Monday,” You explained in a sugary sweet tone, intentionally placing your hand on Meeks’ shoulder. You knew they would fold like wet paper at your request.

The group exchanged several glances with one another, during which, you took the opportunity to place your lizard friend into Charlie’s uniform coat, carefully planting him where he’d likely go down rather than out the top.

“Uh, yeah, alright, sure,” Meeks agreed, gathering up his things and rising from his chair. Rachel chuckled awkwardly, giving a timid “Thank you” to the boy for his help. You couldn’t distinguish whether she was nervous about what you’d done or if Rachel actually had a thing for Meeks. Either way, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to witness the events that unfolded when Charlie realized something besides him was moving in his clothes.

You and Rachel led Meeks to a vacant table off to the left and began setting up things to study. You could tell the boy was a bit nervous around you, but he but shook it off pretty quickly. You, however, were still too distracted with watching Charlie. Once Meeks noticed this, he chuckled, gaining your attention.

“What is it?” You questioned.

“It’s just that… I noticed you staring over there.”

You shot him a chilling glare.

“I was not staring at him!” You blurted a little too loudly. A few students glanced your way before going back to their work, making you take a breath and sit back in your chair. “I apologize. Continue, please.”

Rachel held in a laugh, but said nothing.

A few minutes had gone by before you finally caught a sign of Charlie feeling around in the sleeve of his clothes. You leaned forward in anticipation, waiting eagerly for some sort of panic to ensue. However, rather than panicking, Charlie stood up, removing his jackst and flipping it to search the inside. After some investigation, he found whatever he was looking for.

“Oh, man!” You heard Charlie exclaim as he pulled something from the article of clothing. “Guys, check this out.”

He seemed excited about it, much to your utter frustration. The group all gathered around to view the animal Charlie now held in his hand, all taking turns viewing the small reptile. You were fuming, now sunken down in your chair with your arms folded.

“Yeah, I wonder where he came from, too,” Charlie articulated louder than before, peering over his shoulder at you with a knowing look.

That cocky smile of his made you stand up so hard that your chair fell backwards. You snatched your book off the desk and started to walk out, not bothering to say anything other than, “I’m going to study in my room.”

“Okay,” Rachel squeaked as she and Meeks’ eyes followed you out the door.

Charlie couldn’t stop the laughter that nearly doubled him over as he witnessed you pretty much barrel through the door on your way out. You ignored him, walking briskly to your locker to grab another book, accidentally bumping into a few people on your way. Once you stopped in front of your locker door, a puzzled look replaced your once furious one. The combination lock on your locker had completely disappeared, initially making you think someone had stolen something out of it.

In a panic, you threw open the door to see what might be missing, but rather than finding an empty space, you found the exact opposite. The second you tore it open, an absolute mountain of paper came toppling out like a waterfall, making you shriek as they pooled all around your feet. You stood staring at the ground for a moment, desperately trying to process what just occurred. That’s when you heard footsteps approaching to your right. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

Charlie was stifling laughter as he closed in on you. Then he dug around in his front pocket for a moment before pulling out your missing lock and holding it towards you. “Figure you’d want this back,” he offered between chuckles.

“You put these here?” It came out as a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, kinda like you put a lizard in my shirt. Funny coincidence. Mine was funnier, but I guess we’re even now, eh?”

You studied the inside of your locker for a second more before slamming it shut as hard as you could and pivoting on your heel to face him. His expression faltered a bit when he saw the rage evident in your features.

“Babe, hold on, it was just a jo-”

“How did you get my lock off of there?!” You roared, kicking papers away as you shoved your manicured finger right in his face.

Charlie smirked. “The same way I knew it was you who got that lizard in my blazer, I’m just smart, is all.” He didn’t seem too fazed, which angered you even further. “That was pretty corny, by the way. You should know that we men aren’t afraid of our own shadows like you ladies are.”

You thought your head was about to spin around.

“Afraid of our own shadows?! Are you aware that it was a girl who got the lizard in the first place, you hoity, lame, stupid, conceited-”

“Children!” An adult’s voice boomed from down the hall, making you both whip your heads in that direction.

“Shit,” You and Charlie whispered in unison.

“What on earth is going on here?! What’s all of this mess for?!” Mrs. Newman screeched as she advanced toward you, her brow carved into a deep, wrinkled frown.

You quickly began straightening your outfit, scanning your brain for an excuse to the papers.

“Well, Ma’am, I, uh- Um, Mr. Dalton here had accidentally bumped into me, and I dropped a bunch of papers on the ground,” You rushed out, flashing her an innocent smile as you flattened your skirt.

She gave you a skeptical look up and down, then turned her attention to Charlie. “Is that so? Then what’s with all the noise?”

Charlie coughed into the crook of his elbow before he spoke, giving himself a moment to think.

“Were we being loud? I’m so sorry, Mrs. Newman; we’ll keep our voices down. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

After contemplating it for a minute, she finally let the two of you off the hook, scolding you not to let it happen again and instructing Charlie to help you clean up. Once she was out of sight, the boy grinned at you, kneeling down to help you sort through the sheets of paper littering the floor. “You lied for me, babe?”

You could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Don’t flatter yourself. I knew if I told on you, then you’d probably narc me out too.”

He paused for a second, then laughed under his breath. “You hardly look at me when we talk like this. Do I make you that nervous, babe?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you reached over and kicked the foot he was balancing his weight on, effectively toppling him over. Charlie was quick to catch himself, though, cackling like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen happen.

You stood to your full height, intending to leave him on the ground to fend for himself. “I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Hold on!” He cried rather dramatically, grabbing you by the hand while on his knees in front of you. “I’m sorry. How could I have ever upset the most amazing girl at Welton? A beautiful flame that I’ve tried to snuff out. Could you ever forgive me?”

It was almost weirdly poetic, but still very sarcastic.

Your expression couldn’t have been less amused than it was in that moment, but it quickly twisted into one of shock and horror as the boy leaned forward and planted a curt kiss on your knuckles, still staring up at you with a look that feigned remorse. Those auburn eyes froze you in place for just a moment before you finally snapped out of it, tearing your hand away. The recoil of your action caused you to stumble back a step, which Charlie was thoroughly entertained by, of course.

You shook your head. “Ugh! Can you just stop messing with me, Dalton?! There’s a hundred other girls here; try one of them.”

As much as you hated it, Charlie was right about one thing: You did have a difficult time meeting his gaze. Something about those eyes just made it frustratingly difficult for you to string the right words together. So instead, you scooped up your books and trudged back to your dorm, leaving him surrounded by mounds of paper that still needed to be dealt with.

It seemed that the more irate you became, the more Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. Whatever the reason was, you were not amused in the slightest. You were really about to snap, and dumb little pranks weren’t going to alleviate your feelings. As the day crawled to an end, you took a shower, ate a snack, and eventually decided on going to Maddie’s house for the weekend. You figured it would do you some good to hang out and relax rather than staying at school, and it wasn’t as though your parents cared anyway.

Madison lived close by, and her parents would always come pick her up if she wanted. They were happy to have you since they got along well with your family, so it worked out perfect anytime you needed to get away. By the time you got there and caught up with her family for a bit, it had grown dark outside. She was quiet for a while as she put her things away and meandered around aimlessly, obviously stalling for something she wanted to say.

“So,” she finally said, drawing out the “o” at the end. Your eyes flickered up from your book to see Maddie fighting a smile, her hip cocked with one hand placed on top of it. “I heard about your locker.”

Your jaw clenched. “Maddie, let me stop you right there. I do not want to talk about it. I do not want to think about it. And it was hardly a joke at all; it was just stupid. I had no idea he’d actually pull something so dumb.”

She let out a breathy laugh and picked up a book of her own, beginning to immerse herself in its contents after plopping onto her bed. “Right, so stupid. It's almost as stupid as putting a lizard in someone’s clothes.”

Your nails nearly tore the page you were pretending to read. “I asked you to drop it. I do not want to talk about that man child anymore this weekend.”

“Actually, you didn’t ask,” She hummed. “And it’s funny, since he’s all you’ve wanted to talk about for the past week.”

“Is not!” You wailed, dropping your book on the desk to look at her.

Maddie blinked at you owlishly, though she was plenty used to your antics by now. “(Y/n), I know how much you adore drama, but don’t you think you’re being a touch dramatic here? He probably just likes you.”

“Well, he has a horrible way of showing it.”

“He’s a teenage boy, (Y/n).”

“I don’t care. You all are gonna make me take up smoking.”

She pursed her lips, observing you for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t think he’s kind of cute..?”

You heard the skepticism in her voice. “... Absolutely not.”

She didn’t acknowledge the fact that you hesitated for a split second, she just smiled and went back to reading. “Whatever you say, princess. I’d say you match each other’s egotism.” She paused for a second. “I was going to tell you something else, but now I forgot what it was.”

“Mm. That’s a shame; I would’ve really been interested to hear more of what you had to say,” You drawled, sarcasm dripping from your words.

She grinned. “Shut up, you-… Hold on, do you hear that?”

You glanced around. “What? It’s quiet.”

Maddie lived in a pretty wealthy neighborhood so everyone, including her parents, had turned in by half an hour ago. It stayed generally pretty mundane.

“Listen,” She said, walking to her window and moving the curtains. Both of you stilled as you strained to hear something, and sure enough, the sound of distant music met your ear.

“Is someone throwing a party?” You asked.

“Must be that girl across the street. I bet her parents are out for the weekend.”

“Hm. And where does she go again?”

Maddie shrugged. “One of the public high schools nearby, I suppose.”

“Whatever,” You sighed, standing up. “I guess I’m going to head over to the guest room and get some sleep.”

Maddie nodded. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be next door.”

“Thanks, Mads.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much for you to doze off once you’d gotten comfortable. Perhaps you were exhausting yourself worrying about nonsense. The unfortunate part was that you didn’t stay asleep for very long. About three hours went by before Maddie was shaking you awake again.

“Ugh,” You groaned in annoyance, shifting as your stirred awake. “Wha—at, Maddie? My beauty sleep-”

“Don’t you hear that? I haven’t been able to sleep forever!” She interjected.

Your eyes fluttered open as you listened. That’s when you finally processed how excessively loud the party music was playing from outside. Maddie was hardly visible in the darkness, but you could still make out the aggravated expression etched on her features.

Now you were pissed.

The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with was being woken up out of your sleep by some inconsiderate bunch of teenagers with nothing productive to do in their spare time.

“I’m surprised no one in the neighborhood has called the police on those kids or something,” She grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. “I guess none of them are as close to her house as we are.”

You kicked your legs over the side of the bed, weaving past the young girl and practically growling as you went digging around for some shoes.

“What are you doing?” Maddie quizzed, watching as you tugged some slippers onto your feet and started towards the door.

“I’m going to make sure they quiet down. Come on.”

She was quick to follow after that, not uttering a word as you padded down the stairs and out the front door. You were careful not to alert her parents of your exit, even though you knew they slept through everything anyway. Maddie almost had to jog to keep up with your pace.

As you made your way across the street, it became even more glaringly obvious where all the noise was coming from. The neighbor’s backyard was practically lit up like a rock concert. You didn’t even bother with the front door at that point and instead looped your way around the back of the house, straight for the source. You could hear Maddie faltering behind you.

“(Y/n), wait, if there are boys here, we can’t be in nightgowns! What are you even going to say? What if-!”

“Listen, I know you’re a ridiculously light sleeper, and this noise is just stupid, so I’m fixing it right now. Either follow me or don’t,” You snapped, not bothering to look in her direction.

She didn’t reply, but never stopped following you. You were on a war path, but the instant you rounded the corner, you came to a screeching halt, causing Maddie to smack into your backside.

“Ouch!” She yelped, stepping backward. “Why did you…” Maddie trailed off as she caught sight of what you were staring at—the very thing that had caused you to stop in your tracks.

“No. Way.”

Just as you suspected, there was a crowd of high school kids everywhere, some drinking, some smoking, and others dangling their feet in the large pool. You didn’t recognize any of them—none of them except two teenage boys standing by a large table of refreshments. One of them you knew as Knox Overstreet, and the other was Charlie Dalton himself, right there in the flesh, sipping on a cup of God-knows-what with his arm slung around a young brunette girl’s shoulders. They were preoccupied laughing at something Charlie had said, completely oblivious to your presence.

God, he looked just as arrogant as ever with that horrible smug look slapped across his face. To you, it looked like he thought he was getting somewhere with that girl.

You were initially shocked to see them both, but quickly shaped up when you remembered why you were standing there in the first place.

“That’s Mary, the girl that lives here. Is she with Charlie?” Maddie asked.

“Over my dead fucking body,” You mumbled, marching right towards where they stood. It only took a second for them to notice you approaching. The girl, Mary, seemed only bewildered by your clothing choice, while the two boys looked like they had suddenly seen a ghost.

You got about six feet away before stopping and jamming a finger in their direction. “I apologize, but this music is-!”

“What?” Mary yelled over the music. You could tell by her body language that she really wasn’t all that interested in what you had to say regardless. Like you were the one being a nuisance, not the other way around.

You gritted your teeth, glaring down at one of the radios that blasted on the table beside you. You all but ripped the knob off that damn machine trying to turn it off. At that point, nearly everyone had turned to look at the commotion you’d caused, but you truly couldn’t have cared less. The perplexed expression had melted off Charlie’s face, now seeming more impressed than anything. But what he was impressed by, you weren’t quite sure.

“I said,” You snarled, practically boring holes into the girl’s head. “I’m sorry, but music is over the top. I’m at my friend’s house across the street, and it’s clear as day through the walls. It’s late. We and everybody else in the neighborhood are really trying to sleep, and you’re being a bit inconsiderate with this. There is zero reason for it to be that loud all night.”

Your head snapped to Charlie when you heard his laugh, and it was all you could do not to tackle him, then it went back to the girl.

“Or maybe,” Mary said slowly, “You should try putting some clothes on before you decide to come stomp on everyone’s fun. I mean, seriously, are you a prostitute or something?” Her words were slurring together. Then she took a final swig from a glass bottle she held before tossing it in your direction.

You stepped back quickly, listening to her giggle as the bottle rolled along the grass and bounced off your foot. Charlie chose to step away from her at that point. Taunting “Ooo’s” came from the crowd of people, who were now fully engrossed as they moved closer to watch the show. You stood there stunned for a moment, in disbelief that someone had actually thrown a glass object at you. Sure, you could be catty sometimes, but you’d never done anything like that to a stranger.

“(Y/n)..?” Came Maddie’s meek voice. You could hear her take a few steps in your direction.

You ignored her and instead looked up at Mary again with a calm smile.

“Hey, alright, look, you can’t-” Charlie began to tell her, but you stopped him politely.

Her smugness seemed to diminish at your mellow reaction, which was quite the opposite of what everyone thought. She had clearly anticipated on you being angry.

But you were angry. You were literally shaking with anger. However, you opted not to express it right away. You weren’t going to give her the pleasure of seeing you scream or cry over her actions.

Still sporting your gentle expression, you sauntered around to the back of the refreshment table and stood there for a moment, all while maintaining eye contact with the young girl.

Mary furrowed her brows, almost ready to laugh at whatever you were doing, but just as she did, you reached out in a quick motion, and flipped the table completely over onto its side, emphasized by a deep ‘thud’ as it hit the ground.

Food went cascading in various directions, the radio rolled several times, and the punch bowl’s contents shot out so far that it covered almost all three of their shoes, causing Mary to shriek and jump backwards. You could tell she had some nice shoes on, too. Well, they were nice.

“Oops,” You sang, “My mistake.”

You could tell she was furious, but thankfully for her, she didn’t move to approach you.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?!” She screeched, face now glowing with anger.

“What’s wrong with me? It’s you, bitch. You’re what’s wrong.”

Noises of surprise and astonishment came from the other teenagers, some egging you on and others commenting on how unladylike you were. You didn’t care; you were ready to shove her in the pool if she tried something else. However, Maddie was there to snatch your hand and start tugging you in the opposite direction.

“(Y/n), let’s go,” She demanded.

You pulled your arm back, knocking her aside as you left all the laughter and commotion behind you. She was about to take out, but Charlie stopped her.

“Hey, head on home, I’ll handle it.”

Maddie sneered at him. “Are you kidding me? You? You think you’re going to help?”

“I’ve got it, I promise. She’ll be back at yours afterward,” He assured.

She sighed, and begrudgingly allowed him to go after you. It didn’t take him long to catch up, but he was confused to find you walking down the road rather than back toward Maddie’s house. You knew from the weight of the footsteps that it wasn’t Maddie behind you, but that didn’t concern you in the slightest. You were too busy fighting tears that threatened to swell in your eyes, the adrenaline making your emotions run rampant. You just wanted to walk and cool your head a little bit, and you were deaf to anything else going on around you.

“(Y/n)! Shit, I didn’t know you had that kind of fire, babe!” Charlie hollered, but when you didn’t stop or even slow down after a few more steps, he took the liberty of grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around to face him.

“(Y/N)! Where are you-“

“What?!” You yelled, not bothering to fight him as he held you. He let go when he saw the way you were looking at him, then opened his mouth to say something, but you immediately cut him off.

“What do you want with me? What did I even do to you?”

“What? I’m pretty sure you started this whole thing, not me. Besides, where are you even going?” Charlie laughed.

You glared. “Does it really matter? And what the hell is so funny? What are you so amused with all the goddamn time?!”

“You,” He stated dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me?” You quizzed. “I’m is amusing? Is that why you embarrassed me in front of my friends the first day we met?”

He pulled back. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, I was trying to get your attention.”

“Well, congratulations, you’ve got it!” You ridiculed. “What are you even doing here? Did you sneak out with Knox to go to that stupid party? And who was that girl hanging all over you like that? She’s awful.”

A broad, playful smirk stretched across the boy’s cheeks. “Why do you care who she was?”

You straightened, placing a hand on your chest. “I don’t. I just don’t see why you have to throw yourself on every girl like that; it’s gross.”

He stepped forward with that ever-teasing look on his face. “Oh, but it was okay when you were rubbing Meeks’ shoulder at school?”

“I wasn’t ‘rubbing’ his shoulder!”

“Yeah, and I don’t actually ‘throw myself’ at women, either,” He shrugged. “I only talk a big game. I make jokes, it’s what I do.”

You tried to fight it, but it was useless. He just looked so attractive under the warm street lights, the wind making his hair all ruffled and messy. Your resentment diminished at the sight, and instead was replaced with a pang of jealousy. The reality was that you wanted Charlie’s arm around you instead. You needed it to be you, and not Mary or anybody else. The facade had finally lost its luster. Realization was now staring in the face: you had feelings for Charlie Dalton.

“Yeah, right, Dalton. That’s what I’d say too,” You uttered, demeanor now flat.

“It’s part of my charm,” He affirmed.

“Of course…”

Charlie was so easy to admire that it made you loath him for it. A thick silence hung between you both for a second.

“I wasn’t trying to make you that angry, for the record. I was just teasing. You’re absolutely gorgeous, and everyone at school wants your attention, so I was trying to make sure I kept it to myself for more than two seconds,” He mused, scuffing his shoe on the pavement. “Although you are pretty hot when you’re mad, so I’ll admit it was a little fun.”

Chills ran down your arms, eyes drifting to the ground bashfully. “You’re crazy, Charles Dalton.”

“Hm. Then I guess we have a lot in common,” He retorted.

“Really? You can’t be serious for two seconds?”

“You can’t loosen up for two seconds!”

You wheeled around, ready to walk away from the conversation and let your crush die with it, but Charlie grabbed you again. This time he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you dangerously close, using his other hand to firmly grasp your chin so you’d have to look at him.

You were about to reprimand him, tell him to unhand you and to go back to that other girl, but before you knew what was happening, he’d already leaned in and smushed his lips right up against yours.

A bolt of electricity ran through your body upon contact, and the words that died on your lips came out as a small moan of surprise. He was kissing you. You couldn’t believe it, Charlie was actually kissing you. A real kiss. The sharp scent of cologne and cigarettes invaded your nose, overwhelming your senses. It took a moment for your brain to process the situation, but when it did, you relaxed against him, instinctively letting your eyes close and snaking your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against you as you pulled him flush to your body. It was sweet, meaningful. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest, making you slightly lightheaded.

Oh, you were so screwed.

You had no foggy idea what came over you, but you didn’t have to think twice about it. You began running your fingers through his chocolate locs of hair, nails grazing his scalp ever so slightly in a way that had him sighing against you. He ran his hand to the back of your neck began moving his lips feverishly with your own. You could taste whatever fruity substance he’d been sipping on earlier, but it was heaven. The way he kissed you caused your tongues to brush together a few times, and your stomach flipped each time it happened.

All the built-up tension you’d acquired over the past week was completely released in those few moments as his hands moved up and down your torso. You were fully content to stay like that for the rest of the night, but of course, it was over all too soon.

“Hey, Dalton! Why can't we leave you alone for five minutes, man?” Knox’s voice made you jump away from Charlie, ears warm from being caught.

You weren’t exactly being discreet about it by making out in the middle of the street, but you were still surprised and suddenly much more aware of the fact that you were in nothing but a nightgown.

“Hey, Carpe Diem, man!” Charlie called back to him from down the street, sporting a grin that was probably less than trustworthy.

He continued when all he got was silence in return, “Hold on a second; I’ll be right there, I swear!”

Knox rolled his eyes, turning back toward the house. “Make it quick; we’ve gotta get back before someone misses us!”

Charlie gave his friend a thumbs up, then turned back just as you shivered from a gust of cool night air. Without missing a beat, he peeled off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders, shooting you a goofy smile.

You pulled it around you while shaking your head, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and watched as youthful excitement erupted on his face.

“So you were staring at me that day.”

“Mmm, let’s not push it, Dalton. You’ve been having way too much fun this week,” You warned, stifling a smile.

“Neil owes me a dollar.”

Eyeing the wet grass for a moment, you thought carefully about what you wanted to say next, but it proved difficult to come back down from the high that kiss had put you on.

“You know… I really am sorry about everything that happened,” You said ashamedly.

Charlie’s silence urged you to continue.

“You… I like you, truthfully. And I’ve never really been interested in a boy like this before. When you called me out that day in the library, it sort of hurt my pride a little bit for everyone to see how flustered I got.” Your breathing trembled. "And… I don't know, I guess I just panicked when I realized I couldn’t be cool in front of you."

It felt foreign to open up like that. Showing soft emotions was just not your forte. You were always taught to suck it up and keep going; you were to cry about things in private and smile like a lady in public. But fortunately, Charlie didn’t care about that, and he listened to you ramble with perfect patience. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to cry or throw up at that point, but you were glad you got it out.

“That’s what all this was about?”

You nodded.

“(Y/n)… You need to stop worrying so much about what everyone else thinks. I was sure you just hated me by this point.”

“Charlie, I can’t help it. I’ve worked hard all my life trying to impress everyone,” You defended, feeling a twinge of sadness as you thought back to your parents.

“Well, whether you believe me or not, I would never want you to feel like you had to earn my acceptance. Never.” He gave you a sympathetic look. “And please trust me when I tell you it’s not worth trying to be whatever your family expects you to be. You’re better than whatever they have in their head for you.”

You nodded, and he smiled. A genuine smile, not that patronizing smirk.

“I could’ve approached you so much better than I did, and it was immature to keep antagonizing you like that. I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

You shook your head. “No, I should’ve controlled my temper. You and that poor lizard didn’t deserve it either. And now I need to go apologize to Maddie for the feud her family is going to have with the neighbors for the rest of their life.”

He grimaced. “Eh, they sort of had it coming, if you ask me. I should’ve known you could handle yourself just fine.”

“Don’t encourage me,” You hummed in amusement, watching the trees sway in the breeze.

“Man. Nobody gets the last word with you, do they?” He said through chuckles. “Honestly… What you did was pretty funny. And you were right; the music was obnoxious. It was giving me a headache. Also, let it be known that none of this was my idea, by the way; Knox dragged me here.”

You smiled back at him half-heartedly. “Yeah, I’m never going to hear the end of it… Not that I necessarily deserve mercy.”

“Well, regardless of how it started out, I hope it can continue.” Charlie took your hand, kissing your knuckles just as he’d done before, mumbling against your skin, “If I had known all it took to get on your good side was to stick my tongue in your mouth, I would’ve done it a while ago.”

You took your hand away and whacked his shoulder gently. “Shut it.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I’ll see you Monday! And I’ll have to properly introduce you to my friends,” He joked, walking backward toward the direction Knox had disappeared in. “They all think you’re pretty, but they’re also scared of you, so you have to sit by me.”

“Wait! Do you want your coat back?”

“Nah, I’ll get it Monday, and I’ll get you your lock back, too,” He laughed. “And next time we’ll have to do this at my place, babe!”

You rolled your eyes. “Only if you wear the nightgown next time, Charles.”

84 notes · View notes

radkindoffeminist · 2 years

Text

Things I really want TRAs to get through their fucking skulls.

B*tch, c*nt, and wh*re are misogynistic slurs. This isn’t something I am ever going to debate. These are derogatory terms used specifically against women and using them against women doesn’t make them less of a slur. Using them because ‘in some places c*nt isn’t a slur’ doesn’t make them less of a slur. Also, I’m literally fucking British and have lived in Scotland for some years now so before you start with the whole ‘but in some places it’s completely normalised and used commonly’: it’s not. I have heard some men use it to insult their friends, but it’s not thrown around constantly and is still typically used to degrade women.

R*tard is an ableist slur which should also never be used. (And, to be honest, lots of radfems need to learn this one too.)

We don’t want trans people dead. We don’t want them to struggle and be without help. We just disagree on the help that they should get. You think the only way to help them is to validate their gender and help them to change their entire body in the hope that might make them feel better. We think that mental health support designed to help them cope with their body issues is a much more effective form of support. No situation involves killing them or letting them all commit suicide. We want those who are genuinely struggling to get help.

Slight caveat to the point above: the males who fetishise womanhood and being a lesbian and who aren’t struggling with their body and their identity but just get off to being in a dress and want lesbians to fuck them? They don’t deserve help. They’re pornsick men. But the ones who really are struggling and just trying to get by do need help.

Your community is homophobic as shit. Saying that it’s just a ‘small minority’ who support genital preferences and say rejecting trans people is transphobic and call lesbians TERFs for not liking dick does not fix the problem and only serves to diminish what those who have been at the receiving end of this hateful and homophobic rhetoric have been through. You need to start speaking up against this rhetoric and telling people that it’s not fucking okay. You need to start taking a stand anytime someone says lesbians need to learn to like (girl)dick or to have a sexless relationship with a trans woman to be inclusive or uses the term genital preference (certainly if they’re saying it’s wrong/that people can learn to get over a ‘preference’; but even saying that it’s okay is homophobic because an inherent sexuality is not a preference).

Your community is misogynistic. Even ignoring the fact that the idea that trans women are women and that they know exactly what womanhood is like is misogynistic in and of itself, trans ideology is deeply misogynistic. It’s not okay to use misogynistic slurs, even against women you don’t like. It’s not okay to send rape threats to women, even ones you don’t like. It’s deeply misogynistic to blame all transphobia on TERFs when it’s men who are typically in charge of laws being changed and men who are the ones going around assaulting and mustering trans women. And it’s deeply misogynistic to tell women to get the fuck over themselves and learn to deal with having trans women in their spaces. Women built female spaces for a reason and you are completely ignoring our sex-based oppression which is deeply misogynistic.

Oh, and trans inclusive language? That’s misogynistic to. Forcing women to refer to themselves by their organs and functions especially when women have been seen as little more than their organs/reproductive abilities; making this language completely inaccessible to many women, especially those who speak English as a second language; forcing this language almost exclusively on women while men are still called men (or sometimes just cis men to be a little more specific); and telling any woman who has a problem with it, regardless of their reasoning, to get over themselves? That’s all deeply misogynistic.

Self-ID will be dangerous. I don’t care what stupid reasoning you come up with it not being dangerous because it will be. Men have and will continue to pretend to be women to access those spaces and creep on women because self-ID means that all they have to do is claim that they’re a woman and suddenly it’s transphobic for them to not be allowed to enter. There is no ‘you can tell the difference’ because it doesn’t matter what your personal opinion of that person is: if they say that they are a woman, they have to be allowed into women’s spaces and creepy men will abuse that. (And, no, you can’t argue that trans women ‘have always used women’s spaces and it’s been fine’ because we both know that we live in a different time now. It’s no long a very, very small number of trans people who genuinely tried their hardest to pass as the opposite sex. So unless you’re happy to exclude non-transitioning and non-passing trans people from the spaces which match their ‘gender’, these are the only options.)

Keeping spaces sex-segregated is the only viable alternative to self-ID for most public spaces. I’m happy to hear any ideas of how you’re going to make sure that only trans women can access women’s spaces and that cis men will never be able abuse self-ID to get in, but I don’t think such a solution exists. Therefore, I will continue to defend these spaces being sex-segregated because that’s the best way to ensure that the women in these spaces are safe from the abuses of males.

Continuing to scream that we’re so worried about sharing spaces with trans women ignores what you’re actually asking for in regards to self-ID. As above, literally any person will be able to say ‘I’m a woman’ and access these spaces so while you may focus on the ‘genuine’ trans women who just want to use the bathroom and be more comfortable than they would be in the male spaces, we worried about every single male abusing the existence of self-ID in order to abuse women. Remember what self-ID is: anyone can identify as any gender at any time just by claiming that they are that gender.

‘You shouldn’t be scared of public bathrooms because the bathroom in your home is gender neutral’ is the stupidest fucking argument. Like, I’m sorry, but how fucking idiotic do you have to be to think that comparing a private and public space is not only a good idea but will also support your point? You share a bathroom in your house with people you choose to live with and invite over; you share a public bathroom with strangers. Do you not understand that people can be comfortable sharing a space with family and friends, but uncomfortable sharing with literal fucking strangers who don’t always have the best intentions???

Saying women are adult human females or that they have vaginas does not reduce women down to their organs and you are ignorant as shit is you continue to repeat this lie. Reducing someone to their organs (or any other feature) means that you think the only important/significant thing about them, that you view them as being only of value because of this feature. You know like conservatives saying that women are only valuable/useful for sex and giving birth to children? That’s what reducing women to their organs really means. Stating the common characteristic shared by a certain group does not mean you view the whole group as being valued for that one thing. It’s why no one says that lesbians are female homosexuals reduces lesbians to their sexuality: because, in this case, we recognise that we are stating the shared characteristic that lesbians have.

Radfems don’t believe in gender as a concept. If you’re talking about how radfems believe sex = gender then your argument is already flawed. If you’re talking about radfems believing in gender in any way then your argument is already flawed. We believe in the existence of biological sex and recognise its impact on people in current society, fighting for rights of women who are discriminated against on the basis of their sex. We use the words women and girls which describe people of the female sex based upon their age: adults are women and minors are girls. Men and boys work similarly. These terms are therefore sex-based, not gendered/gender-based. We believe that, functionally, gender is a set of misogynistic stereotypes which tells people (though especially women) how they are supposed to act and serves no purpose in society other than to make people continually question themselves and force people into little boxes. We believe that TRAs and conservatives have gone two different ways with gender and both are harmful: conservatives telling people that they must follow gender roles based on their biological sex and TRAs telling people to identify with a gender based upon what gender roles they like/take up.

Define woman. Please. All we want is a coherent definition of woman which doesn’t rely on stereotypes, debunked brain sex, circular reasoning, or calling it ‘a feeling’. No one has ever been able to give us a coherent definition.

Yeah, brain sex has been debunked after some fucking massive studies into it. Turns out, it was always rooted in misogyny and most of the previous studies were basically just confirmation bias to ‘prove’ that men and women are ‘wired differently’ to give a scientific foundation to all the misogynistic stereotypes surrounding women. Once you account for brain size, we’re really not all that different after all. So no, a trans woman cannot just be born with a female brain; a trans man cannot just be born with a male brain. No such thing exists.

Which argument do you want: there is absolutely no difference between cis and trans people and therefore many people have probably had crushes on trans people without knowing it OR trans people are in danger of being abused/raped/murdered specifically because they’re trans? Because the first argument would suggest that trans people could never be targeted for being trans because people will always see them as their chosen gender and the only people who would know that they’re trans is people that they’ve told but the latter point means trans people are targeted because people can see that they’re trans and therefore many/most trans people don’t pass and so it’s unlikely that people have had all these crushes on trans people because it’s fairly obvious that they’re trans? Because I’m willing to admit that some trans people really do pass and I would not know that they’re trans unless directly told, but the percentage who pass that well is minuscule and hardly representative of all trans people.

Your community is racist. Stop leaning on the whole ‘black women had their womanhood denied from them like trans women are’. Black women weren’t seen as women because they were seen as less than human; they were still viewed as female which is why they were raped and forced through pregnancies. Stop saying that attributes we say are more likely to be found in men are more commonly found in black women therefore we see black women as men. That’s an argument used in bad faith and you know it. Like please learn the difference between ‘more commonly found’ and ‘exclusively found’.

Your community is intersexist. Intersex people are not pawns to be used in your argument. Like 0.1% of the population having a condition which genuinely makes their biological sex more complicated than male or female does not disprove the sex binary and, if anything, the fact that these people struggle with many health problems and are typically infertile goes to show that the sex binary does exist. Moreover, if gender is completely different from sex then conditions which make your biological sex complicated/mixed should say nothing about gender. (And yes, I said 0.1% of the population even though intersex conditions occur at a higher rate than that because most intersex conditions don’t make your sex more complicated than male or female so only a small percentage of intersex conditions overall make people’s biological sex complicated.)

Shut the fuck about PCOS. My condition is not to be used in your arguments. Radfems have never used my condition against me or called me less of a woman for it, so you don’t get to say I’m less female for it either or tell me that you somehow know that radfems see PCOS sufferers that way. You’re the one who abused the existence of my condition and implies that I’m not fully female to make some backwards arguments. You’re the ones abusing the existence of my condition.

Going one step further than PCOS, shut up about women without a uterus or ovaries or post-menopausal women. We know they’re fucking women, dipshits. They’re still adult human females, just ones who are older, went through some trauma which resulted in surgical removal of their sex organs, or had a developmental issue in utero which resulted in them not developing certain organs. (See that I said developmental issue? Because you know what we call people who didn’t grow a uterus but that’s not a problem/issue at all? Men.)

A lot of your views of gender are based on stereotypes. A lot more than you’re willing to admit. You can try to pretend that you’re above all the stereotypes and I’m certain that you genuinely believe that you are, but no one has been able to define woman without referring to brain sex (which is normally just down to stereotypes and debunked anyway) or just straight up stereotypes. And so many people list various stereotypes as one of the reasons they knew that they were trans or non-binary. Even when people say that they don’t ‘feel connected to womanhood’ or whatever as a reason why they’re NB, it’s often because they’re androgynous or not completely feminine 100% of the time. They won’t ever admit that as being the reason, but you can see from how they speak about womanhood and their disconnect to it that it’s true.

Not everything is a fucking dog whistle! A dogwhistle is an inconspicuous term/phrase/symbol which a group uses and only those who are within the group recognise. Like how 88 is a white supremacist number because H is the 8th letter of the alphabet so it’s HH which is Heil Hitler or how ‘I just want the trains to run on time’ is a fascist phrase because it refers to people saying that Mussolini was bad but at least he got the trains to run on time. The only thing that might be considered a radfem dog whistle is TIM/TIF, not because it has a secret double meaning that only we recognise, but because it’s a term which radfems typically use and often isn’t understood outside of radfem circles. It stands for Trans Identified Male/Female and we mean exactly that. We don’t have things that secretly mean that trans people should die. We say exactly what we mean but you just choose to believe the secret meaning you made up over what we are directly telling you, probably because ‘I hate all trans people and I want them to all die’ isn’t something we say.

Saying that we only care about what genitals we have is a simplification of our views which is basically incorrect and used to ignore all our actual issues while making us out to look like creeps. Do you also not understand the homophobic history behind it? Being used against gay people to ask why they were so obsessed with what genitals someone had and why they couldn’t be with the opposite sex? (I’ll answer that: of course you don’t give a shit because you don’t care about homophobia or using homophobic rhetoric which supports your ideology.) We don’t actually care about if someone has a dick or vagina. We care about the fact that the dick havers were raised with male socialisation and that means that they experience life differently from us. We care about the fact that the penis owners are much more likely to abuse women and that far too many will do whatever it takes to be around vulnerable women so that they can abuse them. We care about the fact that we have faced specific issues because we have vaginas both directly (eg: menstruation and childbirth) and indirectly (eg: period stigma, medical misogyny, catcalling, and other forms of discrimination) and we want spaces away from the very people who uphold this misogynistic system to be able to discuss our issues openly. But you constantly ignore all of these issues and make it out to be just about genitals because you ignore our arguments and want to make it out like we’re fucking idiots.

‘Here’s six women. One of them is a trans woman. Guess who’ Isn’t the argument that you think it is. Firstly, literally no one is saying that trans people cannot pass at all. No one. Of course we understand that SOME trans people do pass really well and we would never be able to differentiate them from actual women. Secondly, just because they appear like women doesn’t make them women. They are still biologically male and hence a man. It really doesn’t matter how feminine or well passing they are; they’re men. Thirdly, it is not representative of all trans people. Yes, some people pass well but the photos you show are almost exclusively of rich models who are wearing heavy makeup and who’ve had extensive work done which isn’t accessible to most trans people and you’re basically telling them that if they can’t pass so well then they must not be women. Isn’t that wrong by your own ideology? Fourthly, you really going to do that and then accuse us of saying that women must be feminine? Really? And finally, this is almost always used as a trap against us, hence why we often refuse to respond, but you’re not proving anything. You’re not fighting against any of our arguments; you just think you’re fighting against the whole sexual dimorphism and generally being able to tell women and men apart but being able to generally do something doesn’t mean that there aren’t exceptions? Exceptions don’t make the rule.

I’m not here to argue about what I would believe in some theoretical utopia. I’m here to argue about what is happening in reality. I’ve heard the line ‘but would sex be important if we lived in a society which didn’t discriminate against people by their sex/gender aside from when medically necessary?’ way too much. And the answer is no, but we don’t live in that world and that world is not going to exist within my lifetime at the very least, probably not for centuries. We live in a world where women are treated differently because of their sex. We live in a world where period stigma and medical misogyny and catcalling and rape and domestic violence and devaluation of women’s labour all exist, among other deeply misogynistic issues. So me fighting to get people to recognise that sex is an important characteristic and defending it’s legal protections is not because I deeply believe that it should be an important thing, but because the way in which women are treated by society, particularly at the hands of men, shows that we have built a world in which someone’s sex is an important characteristic and which will affect many aspect of our lives and hence we need to recognise the reality of the world in which we live in. If the end goal is to build a world in which sex is irrelevant outside of medicine then we first need to recognise why it’s not a reality now and work to fix that rather than pretending that everyone’s going to go along with us and misogyny will completely disappear overnight or arguing the what-ifs of this purely theoretical world that we will not live to see.

Radical feminism is about freeing women from their sex-based oppression and fighting for sex-based rights. As a result, males of all genders all inherently excluded from our feminism. To say that we exclude trans people completely is ignoring the fact that trans men and AFAB non-binary people are included in our fight for women’s rights because, regardless of how they identify, they have and will continue to be oppressed on the basis of their sex and they deserve rights to protect them from that discrimination. Your unhappiness that we’re only including people on the basis of their sex is not my fucking problem. Your unhappiness over trans women specifically not being included is not my fucking problem. Movements which seek to free people from their oppression don’t owe it to you to include everyone, they only have to include the oppressed people that they are fighting for. Your inability to understand that is not my fucking problem and only goes to show your entitlement.

If you don’t argue with me in good faith, don’t except me to argue in good faith either. If you’re going to twist my words, ignore what I say, tell me my sources are wrong with no evidence (or tell me that it’s not a source you like/trust enough), and refuse to respond to many of my points then don’t expect me to do the same. I have tried way too many times to argue in good faith only to end up having my points ignored, my sources dismissed, my words twisted if not just straight up having words put into my mouth. If you are not going to be open minded when you talk to me, don’t expect me to put the time in to explain things to you. If you are rude or dismissive or ignoring me or not asking questions, I’m not going to put in all the mental and emotional labour to explain concepts to you and you have not ‘won’ the argument if I have enough and stop responding. You are not owed our time and effort and you should never expect it just because you claim that you ‘really want to learn’.

Please learn some critical thinking skills. I know radfems say this all the time, but I really mean it. If not to understand radfems more, but to be critical of literally all the information that you absorb. I am tired of explaining to people that just because you don’t like or trust the source (like the Daily Mail) doesn’t mean that the actual story itself is untrue. Newspapers like this are incredibly bias and will publish stories which feed into their specific narrative, but it doesn’t mean that what they publish is actually false? Unless you can actually find a source which can tell me that whatever story I’m showing you never happened/was objectively false, I’m going to keep using it. A story which goes against your beliefs doesn’t make it a fake. Biases in newspapers come from the stories which they choose to publish (or not publish), the details they focus on, and the wording they use. My favourite example of this is a few years back when every newspaper was publishing articles about how the Labour and Tory proposed budgets were never going to work/actually balance because the assumptions they used weren’t right. The Daily Mail, however, published only that Labour’s proposed budget wasn’t going to work. Was the story correct? Yes. Did they purposefully leave out information which therefore gave a bias perspective of the two budgets? Absolutely. If you throw everything out which has any biases (which was a thing a TRA I argued with claimed you should do and said that was what they were taught to do), you would have to throw out literally everything ever written. Instead, it’s significantly better to be critical of what you read and understand what biases are in place and why.

#I will probably be adding to this list at some point #also interesting that when TRAs used to come and ate on my blog that my pinned post was often a target #make some stupid little hate comment about inclusive language #telling me that I am *inclusive language* so it’s factually correct/accurate #or telling me about the importance of inclusive language because OBVIOUSLY I just hate it because I don’t understand #but this #this they’re silent on #radical feminism #trans ignorance #gender critical #masterpost

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3liza · 6 months

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I'm baffled at the way Normal men 99% of the time insist in their online profiles, not just dating profiles but everywhere, that they spend all of their time outdoors like, riding ATVs and fishing and hiking and playing tennis.

and then every photo is a really terrible picture of them doing one of those things, obviously on a vacation or tourism or something. first of all everyone knows you're lying, actual outdoor people don't talk about it constantly because it's just normal for them and they dont look like tourists in the photos they post. and secondly that is not attractive to women. it's not unattractive to women either, except to the ones who really think about it and realize hey wait a minute this guy's fake lifestyle sounds exhausting, I don't want to spend every weekend on a speed boat. it's just unremarkable, even if true. why are you telling me this. specifically why are you taking the trouble to lie to me about this.

I think it's because Normal guys are excessively neurotic about their lack of personality, whether real or imagined, and think Sport is the correct filler foam to plaster over the void. some women do this too but it's only the ones who are bad at online personality presentation and have also concluded that Outside is an interesting personality trait (again, it's not, and I say this as a passionate outside-liker). millions of Americans lying about going hiking thirty hours a week. but where did they get this idea. it's not on TV, TV characters don't hike or ATV or tennis a lot. it's not from other real people, i haven't overheard or been involved in IRL conversations where people expressed any genuine interest in Outside as personality trait. I've seen people and TV refer to the trope of the Healthy Person who supposedly exercises and is outside all the time, but they are generally presented as either uptight or annoying to be around.

it's like we've all gotten the idea that the Outside Person is desirable to be, without actually desiring an Outside Person ourselves. The outside person is an archetype we have agreed is correct for presentation to strangers but only after several layers of abstraction.

I think actually it is just wealth signaling. influencers lie about being Outside all the time because it's a lifestyle we imagine for wealthy people who can choose their location and activities because we imagine ourselves to be Virtuous people who would choose wholesome healthy athletic pursuits if we had all the money in the world. and rich people/influencers lie about being outside all the time to complete the mental circuit of aspirational bullshit. I'm typing this on the toilet btw

#blog

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rubra-wav · 5 months

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Various Adam headcanons

A/N I'm not an Adam simp, I just have been thinking abt him since the last post I did.

A lot of these are just things I feel in vibes and are completely baseless haha.

Cw: SFW, angsty in parts, misogyny, slight reference to disordered eating, uhhh idk man it's mixed

He's very messy and his house is like a bombsite of unwashed dishes and laundry.

Think messy roommate horror stories: that's him, and he doesn't give a single damn about it. Thinks he shouldn't have to clean up his house because that's a 'chick thing'

He's naturally really warm and overheats a lot because of it. Due to this, he has his house cold so he isn't sweating his ass off at all times.

He's really good to sleep next to during cold weather, but is God awful during hot weather.

Will not stop bitching about it being too hot when he's slightly uncomfortable and laughs at people who are easily cold, calling them weak.

His favourite things to watch are shitty b grade movies - especially comedy ones.

Prides himself on knowing current lingo, memes, and jokes (and actually pulls off not sounding like an old person trying to be 'hip with the kids' and cringey)

Follow up: makes deez nuts and ligma jokes out of everything and finds it hilarious. Sera sent him out of a meeting for doing this to Emily one time.

He's the type of mf who is pretentious asf about beer being superior and believes any guy who likes sweeter drinks / doesn't like beer are pussies.

He secretly doesn't believe this in the slightest and actually hates beer, he'd never admit it though. He has a sweet tooth and actually really likes drinks like Baileys.

Constantly talking, even if it's just to himself.

He likes AC/DC a lot. Ironically, 'highway to hell' is one of his favourite songs of all time.

He always wears his mask because he feels more vulnerable without it.

If you're close with him, he'd likely feel more comfortable to take it off around you - would fight to keep it on at all times if he doesn't trust you or feel safe with you.

I headcanon he put on weight after getting to heaven because after he was kicked out of Eden he didn't have nearly as much food, so he began binging when he finally had it again. It kind of just stayed a comfort for him.

He's really insecure about his weight gain too. If you point it out he's gonna get really upset. (Like how Lucifer does in ep 8)

Follow up: he literally always has snacks and is an absolute bitch about sharing them. If he does share them with you, he expects you to be really grateful.

His masculinity is fragile as it gets.

Would physically wilt if you even slightly imply he's not masculine and then become extremely angry and try to prove he actually is.

The main reason he is misogynistic is due to his experience with Lilith.

Before Lilith ran away from him, I think that Adam actually had extremely high respect for women.

His whole purpose was to reproduce. Women do a hell of a lot more then men during the whole process of reproduction and dude worships pussy even now (he named his best soldier after it. Not after dick, vag)

I imagine that it was a much larger appreciation for women in general before Lilith screwed him over.

This soured into misogyny, though, after she ran away and likely grew much, much worse with Eve due to her actually being made from him.

Eve then proceeded to eat the apple given to her and resulted in them being kicked out of Eden, which made it even worse.

He's the definition of that one reddit incel who had bad experiences with a handful of women and now is an absolute misogynistic cunt lmao

Hella abandonment issues.

Also hella jealousy issues.

Doesn't matter if you're a friend or a partner, he's going to be grappling to be number one and the only one in your life.

He's not manipulative or slick about it even a little though, it's obvious as it gets. Will vy for your attention by being literally as obnoxious as possible constantly.

Literally so clingy.

If you ever point it out, he'll deny it though and get very flustered.

Bro needs reassurance so bad you aren't gonna leave him if you're his partner.

Will sometimes just get really quiet and ask if he did something if he even slightly senses a tone shift to negativity.

Pretends it never happened afterwards and will downplay his fears massively if you call him out on it.

He's the type of sleeper who moves around a lot and ends up upside down somehow. Also a sleep talker.

Is the type of mf who has the skill to transcribe songs into guitar simply by ear.

He never shuts up about it, so although it is actually a really incredible skill, you want to not praise it because of how annoying he is over it.

Follow up: can play most types of guitar.

One of those extremely annoying rock fans who scoff when you put on anything but rock.

Also acts like he knows more about rock than anybody.

If you put on country music around him, he will forcefully grab the aux from you to turn it off.

He knows he actually isn't very smart at all and is super insecure about it.

He's had it used against him time and time again by people like Lilith and overcompensates to deter this by acting like he is actually the smartest person at all times.

When someone treats him like he's stupid, especially about something he actually knows/is knowledgeable about, he's extremely defensive about it (like when Lute points out the shield to him in ep 8)

Would be the type to go "Mansplaining means 'man explaining things'" to you with complete lack of self-awareness.

I need to draw Sera looking absolutely horrified as he screams the lyrics to highway to hell so bad.

Got possessed with the energy I had to suddenly write this omg.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam headcanons #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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romancingromanoff · 11 months

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Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same.

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally.

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready.

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy.

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him.

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade.

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye.

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal.

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking.

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock.

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself.

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway.

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process.

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen.

#andromache the scythian x reader #andy the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia #the old guard #one shot #andy the scythian #the old guard x reader #andy #andy x reader #andromache x reader #angst #Charlize Theron characters

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twopoppies · 4 months

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Isn’t it odd that louis latam tour ended on the day of the bua. Things that make you go hmmmmm. (On a side note, i’m no fan of swiftie but she gets so much hate from people (gp, et al) for having so many bfs and yet no one bats an eye at the rate harry goes through women. Double standard much? I hate the world)

What are you talking about? People talk shit about how many women he “dates” or “sleeps with” constantly. He literally can’t stand next to someone without it being speculated that he’s fucking them. He’s constantly called a man whore and spoken about in the most disparaging ways. I’ve literally seen some asshole refer to him as “a walking venereal disease”. I don’t think this lothario image does him any favors at this point, nor do I think he enjoys it.

Swiftie’s issue is that she creates ridiculous story lines about her supposed boyfriends and acts as though they’re the only ones to blame for the break ups. You’d think at some point she might do some self reflection. Anyway, she talks endlessly about her relationships, so of course other people will, too. Sorry, but I’m not the one to come complaining to about double standards where she’s concerned. I have zero sympathy for her bullshit.

Double standards do exist in terms of the way women with a lot of relationships are looked at vs the way men with a similar history are. But these two aren’t the best examples to use, IMO.

#swiftie #Harry’s image

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menlove · 2 months

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yknow your fantastic post about closeted paul and how he's (probably) come to accept his queerness/bisexuality, but simply keeps it private for multiple reasons? what would you say was john's case?

(i personally believe he was a closeted gay man but idk how to Phrase Things. Sigh.)

oh i 10000000% believe john was a gay man with a lot of Problems. like. i know, i know, in later life he talked about liking men & women & we have that hysterical "john lennon's bisexual guide to gardening" quote but likeeeeeeeeee.... idk. here's my Speculations under the cut

several things, to me. yes, he fucked a lot of women (a lot). but of the 4 of them, during the beatles years he really didn't.... have any steady girlfriends. it's not like he was the only married one and it's not like he had any hangups about cheating, so it's really not that. the ONLY rumor there is was one that he "dated" an older woman (blanking on her name rn) and even thennnn those rumors were, afaik, just based on the fact that he was kind of sad when she died & that he viewed her as a mother figure. which is... i mean that's not convincing like at all to me.

the Three Biggest Relationships in his life w women were cynthia, yoko, and may pang. the rest were women he fucked around with as one night stands. again, as far as i'm aware. and cynthia..... well it's not really hard to see that he very much (unfortunately) did not give that much of a fuck about her. it's the most classic case of comphet i've ever seen. he dated her bc he was supposed to & then he married her bc she got pregnant and he was supposed to.

and yoko....... lord. i won't deny that he loved her. but it was, from literally everything we've seen, a very obsessive love that had less to do w their personal chemistry and more to do with Circumstances. and even with her, there's sooo many quotes of him talking about how he liked her bc she looked like a man, or looked like him in drag, or acted like a bloke/best mate. that's. not to doubt him but that's just not something someone into women says lmfao.

and that's not to mention the whole debacle w probable conversion therapy. and like. this is no hate to yoko & again i believe she was a flawed individual just like any of them were & we have truly got to embrace her morally gray status just like any man bc we can't demonize OR idealize women when women are Literally Just People. but from some of her quotes & outside sources she was very uncomfortable w the idea of his queerness. and hell, there's the "you think of rock hudson when we do it" line, which is both honestly pretty fucking homophobic but also very indicative of where john was, sexuality wise

and as for may, that whole situation was honestly so fucked up and tragic for Both of them that getting into it would take a novel but like. that wasn't exactly his first choice in partner

and in his quotes about Being Into Men, what he says is basically that with women he is fine fucking without an emotional connection but w men he needs that emotional connection & he hasn't found that with a man. which i think is him bullshitting, btw, but the core of it there that he can't fuck a man without emotions is... well that's really telling. it seems like sex with women to him is just sex, whereas sex with men to him is a deep, emotional thing. and that's, again, just not really something someone into women would be saying with their chest

i'm pretty sure he Also has a quote about never having found a woman attractive which is just telling all on its own

and as for Being Into Men...... well he talked about it himself. but also, there's at LEAST stuart, paul, and brian that would go right at the top of the list for me of men he had an incredibly close & intimate relationship with, one-sided or not. i don't think it's incidental that he referred to paul constantly as his other partner in life, his other marriage, etc while like. literally barely ever mentioning cynthia. like it's super telling, the johnandpaul of it aside, that he talks more about his Boy Best Friend when talking about past marriages than his literal wife lmfao

i think he had a LOT of internalized homophobia & anger with himself over it ("scared of his inner fag" as he said). bc of that, i don't think he let himself get as close to the men he was probably in love with as he wanted to be, or even let himself acknowledge just how emotionally attached he was to them. by the end of his life, i think he WAS coming to terms with liking men, at least. was he coming to terms with Not liking women? i don't know. probably not, although i know his and yoko's marriage was in a rough place by the end of his life so who knows really.

i would hope that if he'd lived that by now he would've found peace w his sexuality, bi or gay, but that's not the world we got unfortunately

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trueshredguitar · 1 month

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I saw your post tags about transitioning would save Hawkeye pierce and I’m very curious, say more (if you’d like)

hawkeye has a lot of scenes that convey gender nonconformity under a humorous lens. sometimes it’s scenes implying that he’s sexually or romantically attracted to men; these scenes aren’t just “haha he’s expressing attraction to men,” they’re often based around the premise of hawkeye being a wife, being a woman, being pursued/“claimed,” and a shocking amount of references to pregnancy? see: “i know you’re a general and i’m just a captain but i wanna have your baby! i’ll kiss all your stars!”

i.e. the joke being made is about hawkeye liking men but it’s RARELY phrased as him being a homosexual man, it’s OFTEN phrased as him being a heterosexual woman

and sometimes it’s simply scenes calling him a girl or making references to him being soft/feminine/emasculated. often times he will make these jokes HIMSELF and call himself an aunt, a mother, a girl, demure or other adjectives that women were socialized to aspire to in the era. his friends will often refer to him like this without any hint of mocking, just lightheartedness (trapper referring to him as “miz hawkeye”)

i apologize that i don’t have the links right now but if you go into my archive and look in my “mash” tag there are video compliations of a lot of these moments, and the compliations don’t even include all of them

also imo these moments hawkeye has a) contrast with klinger’s relationship to his femininity/gender nonconformity, as he is all about playing with outward presentation, and b) compare with margaret’s relationship to HER gender. which, margaret’s gender by itself is an absolutely wildly progressive examination of womanhood where she is allowed to be “masculine” in many aspects of her life while still asserting herself that she is a WOMAN and always will be despite what she does, or how her life, career, or personality looks. that SHE is the arbiter and determinator of her gender and not how much she keeps into the femininity box. i wish i had concrete examples of why i think this, but it’s been a little bit since i watched the show and i think it’s mostly me reading too much into things

i think also hawkeye’s disassociation issues and complex ptsd is really like. advanced in contrast to other people in the 4077th. he’s the main character for a reason and that’s because he’s the one with the deepest emotional wounds and the drunkest, promiscuous, saddest, most insomniatic doctor in the place. there had been psychological issues in place before he had been sent to korea and none of them were very cut-and-dry as we find.

in conclusion i think the fictional man with noted androgynous presentation who flouts gender conventions as well as masculine army structures and patriarchal power structures and constantly refers to himself as a woman and uses a psuedonym instead of his birth name and has very pronounced psychological issues and self-harming tendencies could be trans in 1950-whatever without good words for it, or be unable to in any way shape or form live authentically, and i think being able to be a woman would have probably made hawkeye’s life just a little bit easier. maybe transitioning wouldn’t save her because estrogen won’t airlift you out of korea but like maybe hawkeye would be a little less buffeted by the outward winds of the world. if any part of the world wouldn’t have buffeted her harder for it, anyways.

i mean, one of mash’s biggest themes at the end of the day is that we’re trapped in the time loop, a small and restrictive and violent thing set up by forces outside of our control that will hurt us if we defy them or dare to do anything the loop doesn’t already contain. and it hurts everyone, all the time, and no one knows why we keep doing it, only that we have to. and hawkeye’s the central victim of this. the time loop is war, the time loop is gender, the time loop is the american empire, the time loop is religion, the time loop is being who you are, forever, as They have forced you to be

#mash #i have very strong feelings abt this

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genderkoolaid · 1 year

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can i like, ask what mens liberation is??? is it like. anti toxic masculinity kinda stuff or??? tysm if u reply ^_^

Men's liberation was/is a movement, based in feminist theory, focusing on the harm gender/sex roles do to men. Anti-toxic masculinity is a big part of that. As opposed to men's rights activism, menslib recognizes the patriarchy as the root cause of men's gendered suffering and also recognizes the way that toxic masculinity harms women.

I say "was/is" because the movement was formed in the US in the 60s-70s~ during second wave feminism, and then essentially split into pro-feminist men's movements and the MRA movement. Right now there's r/MensLib, which is a good place to find discussion of men's issues from a feminist lens. They also put effort into intersectional discussion of men's issues, which was a big problem with the og men's liberation movement (which was largely middle class, cishet white men, many of whom were centrists/liberals).

If I can ramble about this for a sec: personally, I think there's value in men's liberation outside of just men as allies to women's liberation. That is very important, and I think any men's movement that tries to ignore or downplay misogyny & women's oppression is doomed to fail. But I also feel like "men should only focus on how toxic masculinity negatively impacts women" is just. like. dick behavior? Men are capable of talking about how they are harmed by the patriarchy without becoming woman-hating MRAs. I have faith in that. I think my ideal... "second-wave men's liberation" would be one that is focused not just on "how are individual men impacted by gender roles" but interrogates how male gender roles play a role all kinds of oppression (i.e the use of the "sexually aggressive masculine threat" to women of a dominant group to justify oppressive violence), which means prioritizing the experiences of marginalized men & looking at their experiences through a lens of masculinity/manhood intersecting with other things.

& I think it also needs to be strongly based in trans liberation. For all trans people, and for a lot of reasons, but one of those being that I am sick and tired of analyses of men's place in society that constantly refer to men, as a group, as gendered oppressors, and constantly fumble around with trans men and either demonize or misgender us to avoid having to critically engage with the inherent cissexism in their feminism.

#m.#ask box #antimasculism

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redditreceipts · 5 months

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Does it seem like transwomen who self describe as feminists are often more misogynistic than ones who don't? Not referring to Blaire White right wing anti feminists, just normies ones. Feel like many of them are more understanding and less obsessed with validation. Whereas ""feminist"" tw deny sexism exists and act like experts on feminism while constantly talking down at actual women.

I think that it's the same reason as to why many women feel safer with centrist or center left-wing men than with far left supposedly feminist guys.

In our society, there is a social stigma towards making certain comments towards a woman. For example, talking about your penis or your sexual fantasies with a woman as a man is traditionally seen as shameful and inappropriate, and doing so anyways is seen as crossing a certain boundary.

Centrist men are generally more concerned about their social standing and not going against the norm because this could negatively impact their social status with other men. Therefore, many centrist men "behave" around women - not because they are not misogynistic or don't want to harass a woman, but because going against societal expectations could endanger their social status.

Left-wing men generally don't derive their social status from following the social norms, but from breaking them; they get cheered on by their friends if they go against societal norms and talk about their kinks and their porn addiction.

Of course, this depends a lot on the specific friend group, because there are of course very misogynistic friend groups out there that encourage that kind of behaviour without being left-wing, but I feel that I as a woman would be a thousand times safer with a center-left dude than with a far left feminist guy who thinks he is brave for talking about his favourite porn category. It's not to say that the center left wing man is necessarily less misogynistic, it's just that I can kinda rely on him not getting a kick out of breaking societal stigma around sex that exist for a reason.

The same thing is true in my opinion for trans women. A trans woman that cares about coming off as "normal" will not try to be as controversial as possible, while a trans woman that believes themselves to be a feminist is more likely to also be super into the whole "sexual liberation" thing.

Also, while Blaire White is of course a misogynist, I wouldn't even say that Blaire is more misogynistic than people like Sophie from Mars or Riley J. Dennis or something. At least Blaire has never told me to suck the girldick lmao. I would also prefer a million times to spend a night in a cabin in the woods with Blaire than with any of these fuckers lol

(Okay I just noticed that I wrote this entire essay without coming to your question, but I think that you have already answered it while asking - the super feminist trans women think that they already know everything, while normie trans women mostly are ready to listen and change their behaviour accordingly. I'm sorry I think I got carried away lol)

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sockpuppethistorian · 5 months

Text

Sex and the City, S1E1 Review from the PoV of an AroAce

Welcome to the show! I've done it. I watched Sex and the City's pilot episode, and I have put my thoughts below. ENJOY.

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

Okay, so it’s starting with this little vignette about… a woman coming to New York from London and immediately meeting a guy to hook up with and getting very invested while they date for (checks notes)(this is a very meta phrase since these are my notes right now) TWO WEEKS. Why do people go on vacation and just decide that they have to hook up with people? When I go on vacation I want to see the sights and do fun things! It seems exhausting to not even be able to take a break from trying to find The One.

Oh, she MOVED from London to New York.

My point still stands.

So for 2 weeks they were having sex and doing all these romantic dates and planned to MEET PARENTS? I just. This English woman hasn’t even joined a gym or met the neighbors yet.

Alright. Now Carrie is talking and using the phrases “The End of Love in Manhattan” and “The Age of Un-Innocence” to describe New York City and the romance scene in the 90s. Okay, besides being dramatic, these are both hilarious. Clearly it’s not the end of love in Manhattan if this entire show is obsessing about love. But age of un-innocence? Yeah I’ll buy that.

This show being about a sex column is so funny. Because like, being aroace obviously sex makes no sense to me. But clearly it also doesn’t make sense to allos. And that’s beautiful.

Now Voiceover Carrie is explaining how love works and random people around New York are complaining about how essentially their entire lives revolve around dating and how everyone’s standards are too high. Let these people rock climb and eat their salads in peace without involving romance, I tell ya!

We’ve moved to the 4 friends (Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, Miranda) having a birthday dinner for one of them, and they’re just complaining the whole time about all being single). These people are putting way too much emphasis on needing relationships and men. I have such a hard time understanding why they can’t just live their lives and wait to see when a partner comes more naturally as opposed to obsessing over it like this. Maybe I’m not giving them credit, though, because this level of obsession is like me constantly needing good shows to watch on Netflix. Like, calm down and eat your birthday cake and have fun.

The extremely random drag queens that present the birthday cake is a… confusing touch.

They seem to feel so much embarrassment that they're four women in their 30s who aren’t married. Literally my dream would be an entire friend group of unmarried and uninterested-in-marriage people.

Now I’m confused. Do these people just want sex or do they want relationships and marriage? Even in this conversation between the four of them I’m so confused. They don’t want to be single, but they’re like “boo hoo the sex great but then he wanted to read me his poetry.” ????

Carrie is now having lunch with her friend, and he spots “the loathe of your life.” Real. (This was a description that Carrie’s canonical “gay best friend” used to point out someone she used to hook up with— or are Carrie refers to him, “A mistake I made when I was 26. And 29. And 31.”)

So, this is not a judgment on anybody, especially not real people, but I feel so confused and perplexed by the way logic and rationale goes out the door when it comes to people that one is sexually attracted to. Not that it doesn’t happen in other settings but it just seems like a very scary thing to me. Carrie has decided for some reason that to get back at him for the three times she had sex with him and it didn’t turn into a relationship, she is going to make it a fourth time and also not make it a relationship that way this time she’s the one in charge of… whatever the 90s version of ghosting would be??? I just don’t get it.

And I’m sorry, they scheduled a 3 o’clock sex date?? Why?? I could not possibly be bothered. Carrie and her Mistake simply must have something better to do at 3 o’clock, like getting a snack from a vending machine. Or taking a stroll.

Carrie is now having sex with this man, to prove that women can have sex just to have sex without feelings. And does to this guy what he did to her all the other times before that by leaving without any emotional intimacy. Why????

“I left feeling powerful, potent, and incredibly alive.” (Carrie after she abruptly leaves after having sex at 3pm on a workday) Why?? Like I KNOW that I lack the understanding of this because of the asexuality and whatnot but truly what feels good about that?!?!?

Oh my gosh. Guys. I am meeting the famous Mr. Big. And he’s…

Not… attractive…?????

Also who bumps into someone and immediately starts listing off that they notice that they don’t have a ring and that they’re attractive?? And that for some reason Carrie had an entire pack of condoms loose enough to all spill out when this man very lightly bumped into her. I can’t this feels like if humans were not humans with sex drives but just sex drives that were a little bit human.

I did not expect to have this many thoughts at THIRTEEN MINUTES INTO THE EPISODE.

Carrie is now meeting with her friend who looks like he works in IT in 2024, and said he has to tell her a “shocking secret.” Who wants to guess it’s related to sex?

… … … Guys the shocking secret was that he hasn’t had sex in a year. (Carrie’s response: “I don’t understand that, you’re such a nice guy.”) (Skipper’s response back: “I’m too nice. I’m a romantic. I just have so much feeling.”)

I… I’m actually impressed they’re finding this many different ways to talk about the exact same thing. Is this how allo conversations go??

Skipper says he’s sensitive because he doesn’t objectify women.

Skipper: Most guys, when they meet a girl, the first thing that they see is… you know… Carrie: (confidently as if she is proving some sort of weird point) P*ssy? Skipper: (chuckling like a school girl) Oh God! Hehehehe I hate that word. (Pause for a beat) Don’t you have any friends that you can hook me up with?

?? Y’all, can you name one time the first thing a boy sees in a girl is her genitals, unless he has accidentally logged into PornHub and forgotten that’s what he’s watching and thinks it’s Every Woman He Knows?

And then… HM. Man, this guy moves fast. Embarrassed by the word p*ssy and immediately turns around asking for a hook up. ???

So for some context, the immediate next thing that happens after this guy (SKIPPER) says he hasn’t had sex in a year and then is embarrassed by the word p*ssy, is to tell Carrie that he likes older women (literally this is what he says), and then Carrie decides to set him up with her friend Miranda.

Skipper after she says she’ll set him up with Miranda: “Don’t tell her I’m nice.”

Okay, so the goal here is really just unemotional sex.

WHAT. The. HEEECK.

Voiceover Carrie: “Miranda was gonna hate Skipper. She’d think he was mocking her with his sweet nature and decided he was an a**hole.”

?? Why waste everyone’s time?? Like is the point here for Carrie to get no one any sex or relationships? Like maybe it’s the End of Love in Manhattan because you’re setting up two people on a date that you know will fizzle out.

So now she’s on the phone with her friend Charlotte who has a date with someone that Voiceover Carrie describes as an “un-gettable bachelor.” What does it mean to be an “un-gettable bachelor”? Does this mean he has sex but doesn’t date? Does this mean he dates but won’t have sex? Does this mean he doesn’t usually do any second dates? I can’t even tell what these people want.

Carrie said she had an “afternoon of cheap and easy sex.” I want to psychologically explore this with her. Like did she just like the manipulation part? Did she just need to have an orgasm? What is going on here.

Okee doke, so now they’re in a club, where Carrie says it’s like the bar Cheers where everyone knows your name, except “here they forget it five minutes later.” I can’t tell if this is supposed to entice me or show how sinful everyone is being.

And we have Carrie’s friend Miranda, being very mean to Skipper who in the last scene was annoying me but now I feel bad for him because Miranda is literally interrogating him and trying to prove he’s a pig.

Voiceover Carrie says “I was about to rescue Skipper from an increasingly hopeless situation, when suddenly—“ stop right there, Voiceover Carrie. YOU PUT HIM IN THIS SITUATION. She is playing games. My opinion as of right now is her sex column was too boring so she is stirring the pot, which doesn’t seem to be too difficult since literally nobody knows what they want.

So now Carrie has run into the Mistake from when she was 26, 29, and 31 (and 3pm that afternoon). And he’s like “omg hello! I was pissed at you at 3pm but now I’m relieved that you want the exact same kind of relationship that I want!” Which is… 3pm sex??? And nothing else??

Y’all PLZ.

“Now we can have sex without commitment!” -Mistake (26,29,31,3pm). And now Carrie is disappointed. WHAT DID SHE THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN? Allos be playing mind games, for real.

Mistake: “I like this new you, call me.” Carrie: Depression, regret, anger, pretty much all the 5 stages of grief while she mourns her confidence from 3pm.

Dude, maybe this was not a good idea?? Like did you WANT the unattached sex or no??? Because it seems like it was only good sex as long as he was upset afterwards and now that he wasn’t she’s sad too? Did you retroactively decide you didn’t enjoy the 3pm sex which you said earlier made you feel “powerful, potent, and alive”?? Carrie, WHICH IS IT?

Voiceover Carrie: “Did all men secretly want their women promiscuous and emotionally detached?” Probably not, but if you purposely go for Mistake 26,29,31 with the intention of having promiscuous and emotionally detached sex because that’s what he’s given you in the past, that’s what you’re going to get???? Like??? You’re picking the wrong people to try to do things with?? (I was going to say the wrong people to have sex with but I feel like anyone willing to immediately have 3pm sex is in the same category anyway).

HUIRDFJKNIURGJFNDK Her friend Samantha just spotted Mr. Big and called him “The Next Donald Trump.” Oh my goodness. Laughing.

Next Donald Trump just did the cringiest little wave. He also waved when he saw Carrie on the street. Big ick.

And Carrie pretends she hasn’t met him. Why <3

Samantha says Next Donald Trump usually dates models. How do people know so much about these random people.

Now we’re back to Charlotte having some sort of date, and the guy asks her to come “back to” his “place.” Voiceover Carrie tells us she had wanted to play hard to get but doesn’t want the evening to end. Why are the only two options Sex on the First Date or Abruptly End the Date??

Charlotte’s date (Capote Duncan, hilarious name) starts kissing her neck and she asks to go home so he gets her a cab….. but then he GETS INTO THE CAB AND ASKS THE CAB DRIVER TO GO TO THE CLUB THE REST ARE AT AFTER HE DROPS OFF CHARLOTTE AT HOME.

WHAAAT.

Charlotte is like “Why are you going to the club?” And Mr. Capote Duncan with no sense of social etiquette for some reason responds “I understand where you’re coming from, and I totally respect it, but I really need to have sex tonight.”

??? HOW DARE HE?? What is this deal. How are these the eligible bachelors. All of these men are as horny as 12 year old boys who just discovered Playboy. None of them can keep it in their pants for 4 minutes and I don’t get anyones motives here. Clearly this dude Capote does not care about a second date with Charlotte after he just pulled that nonsense.

Back to Samantha, who seems to be the very sensual friend. She is propositioning Mr. Big to have a “private tour” of the downstairs of the club they’re in and Mr. Big turns her down.

And instead of being like, “okay he’s not interested,” Samantha takes this as a massive slight.

AAAAAaaand we’re back to Miranda and Skipper, who Miranda is politely(?) turning down, and then they start making out against a building. I do not get this.

AND NOW SAMANTHA IS IN CAPOTE DUNCANS APARTMENT MAKING OUT WITH HIM. Unbelievable. And he says she can’t stay over so the plan is literally thrust and bust.

Is this how normal sex lives work or is everyone in this show particularly amoral.

Ijdfknigfjkgijkthrgf

Carrie is wandering around outside, and Mr. Big drives up and says “well get in for Christ sakes” and she smiles like that’s a very sweet normal thing to say to someone you haven’t had an actual conversation with.

Carrie says she’s a “sexual anthropologist” to Mr. Big, who asked about her job. He gives me the creeps. I assume his long stares and slow deep voice are supposed to be sexy but it’s just bizarre and unnerving.

Mr. Big tells Carrie she’s “never been in love.” Voiceover Carrie then responds “suddenly I felt the wind knocked out of me.” Literally for what, Carrie.

She gets out of the cab, stops, then does a dramatic turn around to ask, “have you ever been in love?” It’s very film noir music and vibes right now. Mr. Big responds “Abso-f*cking-lutely” and then the window goes up and he pulls away in the literal most dramatic way and we freeze frame on Carrie.

Okay. That’s in. That’s the episode.

Most “ALLO SAY/DO WHAT?” Moments, in no particular order:

3pm sex with Mistake from 26, 29, and 31

Getting into the cab with your date so that you can go to the club to find someone else to have sex with

Carrie no longer liking the 3pm sex because Mistake liked it too

Skipper liking older women and being upset he hasn’t had sex in a year but giggling at the word p*ssy

Carrie getting into the cab with a strange man she literally barely knows because she thinks he’s “hot”

2.75/5 I think is my ranking. Too much sex.

#asexual #aromantic #aroace #sex and the city #sex and the city watch #live blog

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