There were a lot of emotional layers in this episode, but one thing I really appreciate is that the writers had Oliver and Felicity work together as partners–essentially, rediscovering the core component of their relationship–which served as the catalyst for delving into the underlying issues they’ve mutually been avoiding for so long. As they work to restore the power in the bunker (read: home), they are working to restore themselves to each other (read: also home). When Oliver and Felicity each try separately to escape the bunker, both of their ideas fail. It is only by working as partners–her intelligence, his skill–that they are able to get free.
Even the title Underneath contains multiple meanings. As Oliver and Felicity go down into the abysmal, gross, unexplored tunnels beneath the arrow bunker, they are simultaneously forced to dig down into and scrape the bottom of the darker, unexplored heart of their relationship. The only way to escape the physical entrapment of the bunker is to escape the emotional state of limbo they’ve been trapped in for ages.
Oliver and Felicity’s laborious and dangerous
struggle through the tunnels together represents the struggle of their relationship. They found themselves in each other before; they find the beginnings of freedom with each other in 5x20.
Once they reach the very bottom of the tunnels–when Oliver physically cannot go a step further–that’s when Oliver feels he’s reached the emotional end of himself. In the deepest, darkest corner of the arrow bunker (of their home), he finally tells Felicity his deepest, darkest secret. And it’s in that most helpless of places that Felicity’s belief in him shines brightest.
The message of 5x20 is clear: Oliver and Felicity are the foundation of the team and the show.
A/N: I wanted to thank you guys for waiting patiently for me to put new stuff out. As I mentioned earlier in the week, college has been piling on and I’ve been trying to finish this prompt for a while. This one…was difficult. I had a hard time writing this one but I was determined to write it well for you guys. I really hope y’all like this one.
Prompt Request: #2 “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you now.” @wwesensualfanfics and Anon :)
Warnings: a few curse words, drinking, FLASHBACK ATTEMPTED ASSAULT
Song: “The Lightning Strike” - Snow Patrol
Word Count: 4350 (it’s a doozy)
“I swear if you eat my last grape I
very well may kill you,” I warned my best friend as saw his hand inching
towards my plate in my peripheral vision. He huffed and pouted, hand retreating
to his chiseled abs as he lay down. He put his head in my lap as I scrolled
through my phone with one hand.
“Love, you took the last of them,”
he complained. I ran my other hand through his black hair. He immediately
closed his green-blue eyes and almost purred like a cat.
“Not my fault you didn’t nab some
earlier Ferg,” I chastised, before finally giving him the last grape from my
plate. He smiled up at me in victory. He always wins and he knows it. According
to him, it was New Japan that brought him this luck. New Japan brought me to
A quick summary: You have been Francis’ best friend since you were both kids. Bash developed feelings for you when he was a teenager but never made a move because he didn’t want to upset Francis, thinking Francis also had feelings for you. Eventually, Francis catches on to Bash’s “crush” on you and tells Bash it would be okay if he courted you.
Word count: 1157
I apologize that this took me way too long to write this. I was wrapped up in watching a new show (The Originals is way better than I expected). It’s finished now, though, so here you go! I hope you like it!
Were you born in hell? Not to be rude but if you were could you tell me about it? I'm really curious about this kinda thing and I really wanna learn more about it.. Thanks:) and sorry to bother you
First, note that Hell is very very big and composed of not only different realms on the astral, but that there are also various locations. Think of Hell like a bunch of planets, rather than one singular place. (Also nah you weren’t being rude, it’s chill.)
NOTE that I am referring to Hell as multiple astral locations, and not simply as the meaning of “punishment realms” (punishment realms are actually a very wide concept present in many cultures, not just within the Abrahamic paradigm)
Hell’s Different Locations/Aspects:
Above Ground Hell:
This portion is much nicer than the below-ground portions. Many demons here look more humanoid, and have morals and society on-par with humans. So yes there’s war, but it’s not a constant slaughter like it is in the lower levels; there is a decent sense of right/wrong here. Good laws exist and are enforced, and societies are rather equal. There are cities, beaches, forests, mountains; it really looks quite similar to Earth.
Goetics have offices here as well, and this is where they are more polite, cordial, and hold their grand parties.
Types of Demons that reside here: Lavartum demons, the nicer versions of the Goetic Demons.
Underground: Upper Hell
Still rather peaceful. The dirt here is reddish in color but paler than in the lower levels. The ceilings here are shorter, and the air is easier to breathe as it is closer to the surface. Some parts of this area of Hell connect to the Lowborn demon realms. There are many peaceful settlements up here who sought to escape the lawful evil destruction of the Deep hell level.
Types of Demons that reside here: Ex-Mid/Deep Hell demons, Lowborn demons who left their realm
There are areas of Hell where there are massive craters that reach all the way to where Mid-Hell (thus technically not being underground?). Sunlight can reach down these massive craters; and I really do mean MASSIVE craters as entire cities/civilizations can be fit in here. There’s grasslands, forests, etc in these giant holes. On average, societies here have more advanced technology than humans, and morals similar to humans.
Type of Demons that reside here: Lavartum (some but not all)
I have not been somewhere I would classify as “mid-hell”, but I imagine it gets more and more chaotic as you go deeper. It would also most likely start getting much darker and more difficult to breathe.
This is the most corrupt and chaotic of the Hell layers. This is where many Goetics shed their cordial mask, and have wars simply for fun. This is the portion that smells like sulphur, has hard to breathe air, and lava pits. Also all of the flora and fauna want to kill you. It is extremely chaotic here; survival of the fittest^2 because everything is constantly fighting each other, fight everything and everyone 24/7 for whatever reason.
Think of the trenches here on Earth. Super dark. Some are filled with void energy made physical due to the density of it, while others are filled with lava. There is a high concentration of void, and sometimes Eldritch energies, within these trenches.
The trenches can lead to the center(s?) of Hell; thanks to @hecaatia for the contribution! They can also lead to the voidspace around Hell, be pathways/liminal spaces for reaching it.
Types of Demons that reside here: Void beings, Eldritch Beings, General abyssal creatures
Underground: Center(s?) of Hell
The centers are large, spherical rooms that contain the core. The cores look like big spheres of fire, and will vaporize anything that gets too close without the proper magical protections, no matter how powerful that being is. (ty @hecaatia again!)
Types of Demons that live here: Nothing. Nothing can survive here.
A voidspace is the void around a certain astral place. The hell voidspace has very, very intense/heavy void energy. At least, around the lower layers. The voidspace gets softer as you go nearer to the more surface-levels of Hell. Some concentrated veins of void energy run from the voidspace and lower levels to the upper levels, but the energy is usually kept within temples.
Types of Entities that live here: Void beings, eldritch beings
Now, I also wanted to talk about Christian/Catholic/Abrahamic Hell- but note besides what I say that is also in the books, this is OBVIOUUSSLLYYYYY UPG
I theorize that those portions of Hell spoken about in the books may be non-physical in nature, but layered close to Deep Hell. This is because in this Hell lore, this takes place after death- humans are still ghosts and are still considered dead- and death is the state of being booted from your physical body you were born into- so it is unlikely to be a physical realm.
I would not be surprised if the actual location(s) existed, as my paradigm tries to avoid mutual exclusivity. It is likely that they exist, since they were written about so much. However, to the question of if people actually go there when they die- I can’t answer that because 1) I do not work within an Christian/Catholic/etc paradigm, and 2) never been there and don’t want to.
What about Purgatory?
Still dunno, but I do theorize that Purgatory is non-physical in nature as well.
This is my knowledge of the different layers and aspects of Hell. If anyone has something they would like added to this post, please let me know! I am all for compiling info and sharing of experiences.
So if someone wants to draw cha/nsaw or mcna/mawyer it needs to either be shown as abusive or be from a "pure au" or else it's ignoring that it's an abusive relationship, but is it ok to just put a disclaimer in your bio/the image description that you know it's abusive? Or is that still bad?
Y’all are missing my point.
When I bring up ch/ans/aw and mc/nas/aw and other stuff as being toxic. (and by toxic i mean toxic, not abusive. this fandom needs to stop throwing the term abuse around so casually jesus), it’s not because I’m saying it’s wrong to ship them. My point is that everyone in Heathers is a bad person, you can’t say some ships are toxic and some aren’t. We don’t need to limit people to only having “pure aus” or drawing a ‘relationship’ super unhealthy and terrible, we can just accept the fact that they’re fucking fictional and move on. Stop monitoring who ships what and how problematic that makes them. Obviously you’re allowed to feel uncomfortable around certain ships, k//ra/m makes me super super uncomfortable and i ask my mutual and friends to avoid talking about it with me. But that’s different than condemning people who ship something because it’s “problematic” and you’re ships are just sooo healthy and better than yours. Newsflash: if your ship is made up of Heathers characters it’s not healthy.
But guess what guys? Not everything has to be healthy. Shocking, I know. Obviously we should strive for good relationships in real life, and though all relationships will have issues, you shouldn’t just give up and accept those issues. But this is fiction, and recently there’s been this weird mentality where fiction has to be perfect examples of healthy happy people and their perfect relationships, otherwise it’s encouraging abuse and problematic. It’s fiction? It’s there to explore situations and teach lessons and entertain. It’s not that serious.
Summary: You’re a long time friend of Bruce, loved him unrequitedly for most of it. He asked you to come visit and help him and Tony out with a project. Pairings: Bruce Banner x Reader Warnings: None? Brief mention of a bully, Tried to be fluffy Word Count: 3271 *Posted 25.8.17
“How was your flight?” Bruce grabs one of your bags before you can and frowns at you until you hand over the others until you’re left with just your carry-on slung over your shoulder. You shake your head as you follow him into the elevator.
“Eh, not bad. I tried to adjust for the time change during the flight, so hopefully jetlag won’t be as bad as usual,” you answer, discretely looking at his reflection, standing next to yours, in the mirrored inside of the elevator. Other than better clothing, it was as if he’d never changed – hair still softly curly and unruly, dent in his chin still reminding you of the old time comic book superheroes with their ‘masculine’ chiselled jaws and blunt chins, faint stubble still adding shadows to his face. No glasses, though, he must not have come from the lab.
As you answer and check him over, he swipes the touch screen within the elevator and stands next to you, shoulders almost touching. The elevator doors close with a ding and smoothly starts its ascent.
“Don’t worry if you can’t start until tomorrow of the day after next,” Bruce reassures you, briefly looking you in the eyes to glance away, blushing slightly.
You smile. Yup, same old Bruce Banner.
“I should be fine, and if not just pull me out of bed by my ankles and make sure you’re out of hitting range.”
“I’ll just make Tony do it,” he chuckles. Oh, how you’d missed the sound.
Pushing your private, personal feelings aside, “And how is working with the Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers?” you ask, lightly bumping his shoulder in affection.
Carefully bumping you back, he smiles softly.
“Is that a blush!?” You bend your knees slightly and twist your upper body to look at his face and ignore the ache forming in your chest. “You only blush like that when you’ve got a crush. Have you met someone!?”
He tilts his head back up so you don’t have to bend. “I sort of had a thing with Nat, but we ended it.”
“But you didn’t want to? End it, I mean.” You’d realized long ago that when asking about feeling, you had to extremely clear, or Bruce would completely misunderstand and not think to clarify. That was probably around the time you’d started to develop your little crush on the brilliant, sweet man. Who in turn, fell in love with Betty. Because, of course, your love life just had to be utter horse manure.
“No, it just didn’t feel right,” he shrugs, looking rather neutral, not at all torn up about an unwanted breakup. But then again, you weren’t sure if you were reading him right. It could just be your wishful thinking that he wasn’t upset blinding you.
“Alright then,” you answer softly, after a slight pause.
‘How long is this elevator ride?’ you think to yourself. Not that you weren’t enjoying your time with Bruce, but the old ache of unrequited love was stronger than you thought it’d be when you said yes over the phone when he’d called to ask for some help.
“Working with the Avengers and Tony has been a lot of fun,” Bruce returns to the original question calmly, as if the slight detour about his love life hadn’t even occurred. From there, he recounts amusing tales of his work with the Avengers and all the interesting projects he’s worked on since you’d last talked, with little interjections about what rooms you’re walking through once the elevator doors open.
“This is your room – Vibranium has this property-,” Bruce opens the door to a medium-sized room with a soft, teal comforter-covered bed, pale birch, artfully distressed dresser and a floor-length view of the New York skyline. A fluffy, cream rug begs to be touched and a frosted glass door is cracked open, just revealing a nice bathroom.
“Now that you know T’Challa, why didn’t you make the walls completely out of Vibranium?” you ask as you set your things by the dresser – or rather motion to Bruce to set your things by the dresser as he still wouldn’t let you carry anything more than your old waterproof silver-grey backpack that doubled as your carry-on when you travelled, which was often.
Before he can answer, though, a dark-haired man bursts into the room. “When are you going to start working!?”
“When she’s not tired!” Bruce yells, eyes starting to turn a bit green.
Surprised, you wrap your hand around Bruce’s tense forearm. “As soon as I am able to, I just got off the place. Mr Stark, I assume? Bruce has told me quite a bit about you,” you answer Tony, coolly polite.
Startled by Bruce’s reaction, Tony stares at his friend a little warily. Bruce never yelled and was actually rather hard to provoke. Something as simple as running into a room never once triggered an ‘episode,’ and there was a lot of that when you worked with Tony Stark.
“Yes. And you must be Y/N. Bruce has told me nothing about you.” Tony sticks his hand out for you to shake, but you can’t help but feel like one of your specimens under a microscope.
“Hmm,” you shake his hand.
“Well, if we’re not going to be productive today, then we might as well eat soon. Dinner’s on at 6:30.” And with that, Tony strides out of your room, leaving only the faint scent of expensive cologne as a proof of his visit.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce mumbles, hastily unzipping your suitcase and shoving your clothes into the dresser.
“Bruce.” You grab his hands before he tears any of your clothes in his rushed and nervous effort to help you unpack. “Bruce…” You wait for him to meet your eyes. “Why are you apologizing? Because Tony was rude and impatient and is probably running several fairly invasive background checks on me because that’s just who he is and he cares about you? Because I think you broke the zipper of my suitcase?”
“I broke your suitcase?” Bruce grabs your suitcase to inspect it, frowning when he realizes he’d left his glasses back in his room.
Placing your hands over his tightly clenched ones, you smile. “It was pretty old, and you’re a strong guy. But back to the question at hand, why are you sorry?”
Head dropping in shame, he turns up his hands to grasp yours. “I almost lost my temper. He could have seriously hurt you, and it would have been my fault.”
“Bruce Banner,” you declare. “I have known you since I was 5 and you, 8. You would never hurt me, and, if we’re talking in terms of you and him, neither would he since he knows you wouldn’t want it that way. Remember when Wanda tried that mind stuff on you?”
His face turns from hopeful to miserable at your words.
“Stop that.” You wiggle your right hand away so you can properly scold Bruce, wagging a finger. “You, or rather he, only attacked your friends after she’d tricked him. So, stop thinking of yourself as some ticking time bomb. We’ve talked about this over and over.” You shake your head at the countless phone calls and video messages you’d had about this topic.
“I know.” Bruce looks away, but you can tell he’s already feeling better. You smile. So maybe he didn’t love you, but at least you could still get him out of his moods. “Y/N…” he glances back towards you, blushes and returns to looking out the big windows.
“Oh shoot,” you notice your watch. “It’s almost 6:30! We gotta go. How can Tony make food so fast?” You pull Bruce along, back to the communal kitchen and dining area. You made a few wrong turns, but Bruce was there to correct you.
“We ordered Thai,” Tony unknowingly answers your question as you step into the kitchen.
“Hope you don’t mind,” a female voice calls from the connected dining area.
“Not at all,” you reply. “Need any help?” you ask Tony. Before he can answer, you take one of the three full glasses he was trying to carry to the table.
“Cups are in the upper right cabinet,” he nods towards said cabinet. “Beverages are in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” You nudge Bruce towards the dining room. “I’ll be fine, Bruce; it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with kitchens. You go sit down.” Fidgeting slightly, he nods at you and moves into the other room.
Pulling some guava juice, picking the other cup back up and joining the rest of the group in the dining room, you’re surprised to only see one other person, besides Bruce and Tony.
“Hi, I’m Natasha. Oh, that would be my water,” a somewhat short redhead waves at you as she scoops some food onto her plate.
“Hi,” you nod in response as both hands were occupied. Setting the other cup in front of her, you sit next to Bruce, across from Tony and Natasha. Natasha… You glance over at Bruce. Could this be his ‘Nat?’ He smiles at you and hands you some silverware.
“You found the guava juice,” Nat tips her head towards your glass. “You have no idea how surprisingly hard that was to find, but Bruce was adamant that we get that for you.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you shake your head at Bruce. “Still worrying over inconsequential things?” you tease, despite how happy it makes you to know that he hadn’t forgotten your love of it.
“It’s quite good actually,” Tony admits, toasting his cup of guava juice at you. “Worth the trouble, I’d say.”
You smile. From there, the tension of dining with strangers fades away and by the end of the meal, you feel like you’d made some new friends.
“Sorry, there was only us tonight; it’s been a busy few weeks and we get tired of seeing the same faces every day,” Natasha adds as you stick your plate into the dishwasher with hers.
You laugh. “I understand. After a certain period, people need a break from each other. A colleague of mine and I almost got in a wrestling match over some data because we’d been working together nonstop on a project for a week. Thankfully we realized and mutually decided to avoid each other for a few days.”
“And it worked?” Tony asked humorously.
“We published our findings two months after that,” you answer proudly.
“Was this Dr Holtz?” Bruce rumbles.
Scrunching your nose at his unexpectedly grumpy tone, you shake your head, “No, Dr Emily Morris. She and I are set to guest lecture about it sometime in September, actually. Why? Is something wrong with Ulrich?” You had worked briefly with Ulrich Holtz, and he seemed a nice man.
“No,” Bruce looks away.
“Bruce-“ your words are interrupted as a large yawn escapes you.
“You should get some rest,” Nat pushes you to the door. “We can finish cleaning up. Bruce, make sure she gets there.”
“We?” You hear Tony protest as you leave the kitchen.
“You don’t have to help me, Bruce,” you yawn once again.
He glances at you quickly, hands unconsciously trying to push up his glasses. You laugh at his grumblings about forgetting them somewhere.
‘So, Nat?” You reference his earlier comment about having a thing with a woman he worked with. “As in Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow? You couldn’t have told me this before?”
“Tell you what?” Bruce shrugs. “You should try to get some sleep,” he tries to change the subject.
“Ugh,” you throw your hands up dramatically. Pushing aside the increasingly more painful ache that pulsates at the thought of Bruce and Natasha together, you turn to face him, “Now, why were you grumpy about Ulrich? Don’t tell me he’s with HYDRA.”
Running his hand through his hair, Bruce looks down, brows furrowed. “No, he’s not working with HYRDA.”
You breathe a sigh of relief.
“But he’s not good enough for you.” This comes out a rush of words.
“Huh?” This time, it’s your brows that furrow.
“As a…” A pained look crosses Bruce’s face, reminding you of the time you forced the Hulk to let a dentist check out his toothache. “As a boyfriend.”
You blink. “You do realize Ulrich’s married, right? To a brilliant, if a bit cold, physicist.”
“Oh,” Bruce flushes. “Well, good night.”
But Bruce already disappears from the corridor.
After silencing your alarm, pulling yourself out of bed, dressing and making yourself some breakfast, you wander down one floor, to the lab.
“Bruce had to go pick a reactor up for me. He won’t be back until this afternoon,” Tony greets you as he analyses something at his desk.
“Okay,” you scan the lab to see if there was anything you could start work on.
Pushing himself away from the desk, Tony chucks a silver packet at you, “Dried cherries?”
Hastily catching it, you frown, “Um, sure?”
Tony chuckles, nodding towards the bag. “Dried cherries.”
“Oh! Sorry,” you flush slightly as your slowness.
“No worries, it’s an early morning for you, didn’t think you’d be up until midday. But now that you’re here, I cleared this space out for you to work at. FRIDAY, pull up the VICEROY project.” Tony pulls a thin screen down in from of your desk.
Joining him, you both munch on dried cherries as he explains the project and what you need to do. After throwing out the suggestion of trying dried mango, you both settle into your work, not resurfacing until FRIDAY shuts everything down as a way to force the two of you to eat lunch.
“So,” Tony waves a just bitten carrot at you. “How long have you liked Bruce?”
“Well, we’ve been friends since he tried to defend me from the large bully down the street.” You avoid his gaze by carefully choosing a strawberry from the bowl in front of you. It was obvious what he meant, but, while you did like Tony, you weren’t about to spill your every thought to the man.
You can feel his eyes on you. Taking a bite of his turkey, tomato, and cheddar cheese sandwich, he acknowledges the obtuse answer with a slight nod. “I can’t see you being bullied.”
“It was a once in a lifetime thing since I kicked the bully in the stomach while they were distracted.”
Tony laughs for a moment. Cutting his guffaws short, he returns to his original question, slightly rephrased for explicit clarity this time. “How long have you loved Bruce? As more than a friend or older brother etc.”
You stare at the man steadily. You wait until he blushes, finally showing proof and maybe a little guilt at inquiring about such a personal matter, to reply vaguely, “For a while now. Is that a problem?”
“No,” Tony shakes his head. “I mean, with others, there is the question of whether a relationship will cause tension and hinder work efficiency, but I doubt you’d let it.” He munches on another carrot, taking a moment to think. “Actually, I think you’d be good for him. I haven’t heard him talk so much until he was walking you through the place. Natasha agrees.”
“Oh…,” you can feel your ears starting to flush slightly. “Thank you, but he doesn’t think about me that way.”
“We’ll see,” he smiles. “I’m craving ice cream, want some?”
After a lovely ice cream break – excluding the slight row over the superiority of ice cream flavours, vanilla or chocolate – you went back to work.
It’s around 4 when Bruce wanders into the lab. “Tony! FRIDAY said to leave the reactor in the garage.”
“Yup,” Tony answers, not looking away from whatever welding he was doing on some piece of work.
“Hey,” you wave at Bruce absentmindedly. While your heart could only concentrate on Bruce, your mind still found the mysteries of biotechnology much more interesting. And it had had a head start in deciding what would get your attention.
“Hey,” Bruce frowned, glancing between the two of you warily. Crouching by your station, he whispers, “You’re okay with?” gesturing towards Tony.
“Hmm, wha?” You distractedly pat his face, ”Oh yeah. Hand me that laser, will you? Thanks.”
Bruce smiles slightly. He was used to your tunnel vision when absorbed with a project and was glad that you seemed to be interested. But, looking at your bent head, he almost wished you were a little less interested.
“So, you like working with Tony?”
You’re both sprawled over your bed, looking over your respective papers of data for the project.
“Yeah. He’s fun. And you know I’ve always liked collaborating with you, you know that, ever since we beat those jerks at the sand castle competition at the beach when we were in elementary school,” you smile slightly, offhanded in your response as you flip through the various graphs and statistics.
You can hear Bruce take a deep breath, but you don’t really pay attention. Sometimes, he just did that to clear his head. So, his next words surprise you. “… I like you, Y/N.”
You pause slightly. Your chest tightens for a moment before you can calm yourself down. While you always loved it when he said that, he had never meant it the way you’d wanted him to in the past. You can remember the first time he hugged you – when you helped him confess and get a date with Betty. Needless to say, his affection was sometimes a bit painful for you.
“Awww, thanks, Bruce, you know I like you, too.” You nudge him playfully and return to your work.
You look up at his unusually sharp tone
“I…,” he looks away then back at you, staring deep into your eyes. “I know I’ve taken you for granted, and I know we’d had this platonic brother-sister relationship thing going on for some time, but that’s not working for me anymore, the platonic thing. And the brother-sister thing, of course, then it’d be incestuous.”
“Umm, Bruce, where are you going with this?” You cock an eyebrow at his rushed babbling.
“I’m not saying this right.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair, rumpling it even more. “You’re always there for me and I can’t imagine you not. I cannot. It makes me shake and turn into him, just thinking about what could possibly have taken you from me. And now, I can’t seem to act normal around you and I’m just…-”
“Bruce,” you coax, while simultaneously trying to tell your thumping heart not to jump to any conclusions, but it already just wants to fling itself right out of your chest and into his gentle and slightly callused hands.
“I love you.” The words are muffled into his arm.
You pull his arm away from his face. “Come again?”
He can’t look at you. “I love you, Y/N.” His face is slowly turning a bright red.
You blink at him, sure you’d misheard. Suddenly you can’t help but giggle. Laughing, you admit, “Good. Because I’ve been in love with since I started high school and I was starting to get impatient.” You scoot closer to him so you can flutter a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Y/N….” He blinks at you, eyes full of surprise and wonder and joy.
“Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk, I have loved and still love you with all my heart.” You cup his face.
You don’t know who moved first, or maybe you both moved at the same time, but your lips meet and your thoughts disappear.
A/N: THANK YOU FOR READING THIS! It’s my first Avengers fanfic, so hopefully, the characters are true to form. Sorry, if they’re not and that the (not really existent) plot was a bit all over the place. I had a different story in mind when I started writing this, and then it evolved, and I might have missed a few details.
omg okay so, one of my closest friends is pro-Life. And like, aggressively pro-life, to the point that she organizes rallies and runs campaigns and shit. It is a topic that we have mutually agreed to avoid, but now and then it comes up anyway and we argue, and there is something that I have learned though her about pro-life people that I wanted to share.
Pro-life people believe that pro-choice people are pro-choice because we do not value the life or worth of an unborn baby. Let me repeat that because it’s important: pro-life people believe that pro-choice people are pro-choice because we do not value the life or worth of an unborn baby.
They really believe that we think until a baby is born, it has no value at all and that it is not worthy of any consideration over whether it’s ethically right or wrong to stop a beating heart. This was made explicitly clear to me this afternoon, when I said I thought it was terrible that people drink when they’re pregnant and cause fetal alcohol syndrome, and she jumped down my throat with “but you believe in abortion! So why does an unborn baby only have value when it’s a wanted pregnancy? Why does the government get to spend money on don’t-drink-while-pregnant campaigns but then people can decide to murder their unborn babies and demand that the government pay for it?”
And like … I feel like this is a HUGE misconception that pro-life people have. In my experience, NO pro-choice person is pro-choice because they hate fetuses and want them to die. That isn’t the issue at all. Pro-choice people absolutely do value the lives of the unborn. That is why abortion is such an enormously difficult and traumatic decision for most women. That is why, even though I live in a country where abortion is legal, the foster-care system is disastrously over-crowded with the human results of unwanted pregnancies. That is why the enormous majority of late-term abortions are wanted pregnancies where something has gone wrong. That is why we as a society can generally all agree that killing a pregnant woman is such a horrible crime. More or less, everyone acknowledges the value of a human life, even if it is unborn.
The issue, is that anti-abortion laws allow strangers in positions of power (usually male strangers) to tell women what they are allowed to do with their bodies. The issue is that it is a very slippery slope when conservative, religious governments are allowed to dictate who can and can’t terminate a pregnancy. It can so quickly go from okay but only in the first trimester, to okay but only if you’ve been raped, to yes abortion is theoretically legal but this state doesn’t have any clinics so people who don’t have money to travel are out of luck, to okay but only if the mother’s own life is in danger from the pregnancy, to okay but only if the fetus is sick and won’t live anyway, to no because this is a catholic hospital even though you aren’t catholic, to nope no abortions for anyone even if you are a 13 year old girl who was raped incestuously or even if you will certainly die without one. The issue is entirely one of women’s rights. There are places in the world where women who miscarry are being put in jail, because it is medically very difficult to tell an abortion from a miscarriage. That is TRUE. Google it if you don’t believe me.
Abortion laws are not, and have never been fought for because we don’t value human lives. This idea that pro-choice people hate babies and want to see them die is so fucking false but also it is so dangerous when people in positions of power believe it. Every pro-choice person I know would be THRILLED if no abortion ever needed to happen ever again. If all methods of birth-control were free and accessible, if plan-B pills were also free and accessible, if rape was actually dealt with as a systemic cultural issue to the point that it becomes a rare and shocking crime instead of a daily occurrence, if comprehensive sex-ed was taught globally so that unplanned pregnancies rarely happened. THAT is what pro-choice people want. We want a world where abortion is exceedingly rare. But until we actually live in that Utopian fantasy, abortion is an unfortunate but absolutely necessary female health issue. It is NOT because we hate babies. Literally fuck the people who are perpetuating this lie.
Soundtrack of Us (Part Three) - You Get What You Give/The Flashback
Word Count: 2600+ words
Pairing: AU!Dean x musician!reader
Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Ellen & Jo Harvelle, Castiel Russell (OC), Dan (OC)
Warnings: Character Death (not main), marijuana and alcohol abuse, angst, little snarky reader and Dean, kinda fluff, more angst
Summary: Y/N is a local artist with standing gigs at a coffee shop and a bar in a small town in North Carolina. She’s run from some things at home, but life has finally fallen into place in Asheville. Music is her life and her only worry in life, until she meets a pair of hypnotizing green eyes.
Author’s Note: Bare with me, y’all. This one is kind of a rollercoaster. What happened with Russell? Do Dean and reader get a chance??? You’re about to find out guys.
Flashback italicized, song lyrics bold and italicized. Song used: You Get What You Give - New Radicals (I like the cover by the Maine as well!)
“Thanks for hanging out, guys,” you spoke into the microphone at the end of your set, “have a good night and drink safe.”
You scurried off your stage and hid yourself in the thick of the crowd. You didn’t want to talk to Dean. Not here, not now. You made a lot of tip, you loved the drunk money-blowers who would accidentally drop twenties instead of ones. You deserved some shots, you thought.
You spotted Jo and made your way to her with lemon drop shots in hand and balancing a beer between your chest and your forearm. When you spotted her, she was listening intently to the voice of a clean cut brunette. He had beautiful blue pools in his eyes and scruff that could have only been a few days old. He wore a khaki trench coat which made you cock an eyebrow, but his looks were more than enough to let it slide. Jo was mesmerized by the man. You knew this because this conversation was different; she was always the one who did the talking, never the listening. She glanced past the man and looked at you, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. That was your sign to keep distance, she was working him up to take her home. Go, Jo. Two shots for you. Go, you.
You aimlessly walked around the bar with the stout that Sam served you. It was getting warm and unbearable to drink, but you needed a buzz through all the small talk and compliments on your singing that the bar goers threw your way. You especially needed the buzz when you saw a pair of bow legged jeans make their way towards you.
Five weeks ago, you and Jin had what could charitably be called a nasty breakup. Unfortunately, you had yet to tell your family, who were all expecting him to be your plus one at your sister’s wedding. So, like a normal, functional person, you called up your ex-boyfriend (who, truth be told, you were not 100% over) and asked him for a favor. This weekend was not going to be easy on your heart.
I've been backreading p much your entire blog (tho still on it so I might not have all the infos), but about Fingon-perpetual-faker-of-his-own-death: Does that mean he's still around for the 3rd age? Are Maglor, Daeron and Fingon left wandering M-E in mutual avoidance only to periodically run into each other ('I was sulking on this desolate rock FIRST!') Did they pick up Glorfindel after his 2nd go-around and form a barber shop quartet? How close are we to achieving Highlander AU? MANY QUESTIONS
The white wings of the gulls sliced up the sky, just as their mournful wailing cut the silence.
Maglor watched them, long coat and long hair flapping in the salt wind coming off the water, until they began to squabble over a discarded packet of Doritos and the melancholic effect was ruined.
“It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” he told them mournfully. Burn with the same passion that had consumed his father and taken his brothers one by one. Burn like the silmaril had burn-
The rumble of an engine and the screech of tires roused him from his reverie. “Hey. Hey Maglor,” cried a voice deep and melodic, pitched to be audible over the motorbike’s roar.
Though there was little point in it, Maglor pretended that he had not heard.
Fingon ignored that he was being ignored and leapt from his bike to stand beside Maglor upon the cliffs. “So we’re starting a band. You wanna join?”
Raven tresses whipping in the wind, Maglor turned his face away. “I…cannot.“ His voice, once the loveliest to grace the courts of Tirion, was a hoarse croak, no more musical than the shrieking of the gulls.
“Yeah, Daeron said you’d say that. Said you were all washed up.” Fingon leant over and picked some seaweed from Maglor’s collar. “I told him we should ask you anyway. For old times’ sake.”
“I don’t need your pity,” Maglor said piteously.
“Listen, I can bully you and cajole you and trick you, but sooner or later you’re going to join this stupid band. It will be much easier for both of us if you take the path of least resistance now.”
Maglor considered his options, weighed who was likely to win in a pitched battle of wills between himself and his cousin, and conceded.
“Who wants to live forever?” he said gloomily, hauling himself onto the pillion of Fingon’s motorbike.