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googledocsdyke · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts/recommended texts for Cas analysis? I genuinely love the dean gender studies and I just wanna know what people might apply to Cas.

yes absolutely!! while dean studies is my first love i also deeply love cas analysis (casnalysis?) and wanna strive to do more of it. here’s some stuff off the top of my head:

1. gender, sexuality, heavenly embodiment

this is much more theological and less psychological than dean’s whole Deal because there’s so much fascinating stuff around how the angels in general experience express and conceptualise gender (@autisticandroids has a good post about angel gender & lily sunder has some regrets) but for cas in particular there’s this fascinating kind of collective fandom agreement (which i DO also agree with) that cas’ own gender kind of is gay man, that he actively chose gay manhood, but also that he’s kind of..... lacking the Insane Genderishness that dean exhibits at all times, even though he actively chose to engage in male gendering and became so comfortable housed Within Jimmy that he, as some post i saw the other day that i can’t find anymore said, “became his own body” when jimmy died.

like on the one hand there’s an almost-canonical transness to the whole process but it also never feels fully written-into because 1) the supernatural writers for all their insanity are sometimes very boring and *most* of the time only feel interested in narratively expressing angels As Their Vessels anyways and just like leaving convenient spaces around these questions (boldest thing they ever did was hot girl cas which i WISH i had the range to unpack) 2) there’s a vague inevitabilist shrug to the whole thing since they obviously weren’t gonna recast misha collins (though they HAVE tried to get rid of him) and 3) something amorphous about cas’ entire..... personhood? makes him Empty Of Gender as a contrast to dean’s Full Of Gender (i believe it was @deanwinchestergender who said this) and like is it just the juxtaposition to dean/jensen’s whole insane Deal? or something else?

like he actively chooses the terms of his own embodiment and yet narratively it feels like a shrug. and we’re all like “well obviously even though he’s a celestial being he was always a gay man” and like WHY. i love it idk idk much to think about! and yeah just in general the theological questions of possession and cas genuinely Becoming a man as he iterates himself consciously towards humanity it almost feels like. by doing the most boring things possible with his gender they made it interesting? idk if that makes sense.

2. discipline, free will, metanarratives

cas is like a tool (“i am not a hammer, as you say”) held in constant discipline and surveillance by the system that enmeshes him and it’s really, really fascinating to watch the way the angels hold each other to conformity. especially pre-god they kind of produce each other as foucauldian disciplinary subjects (which i posted about here) in perpetual visibility through angel radio, generating their own and each other’s conformity rather than being directly ruled through like a single centralised source of power. only the spectre of a god. and obviously cas’ whole thing is that he has ALWAYS disobeyed and the narrative affords him this psychological interiority never given to the foucauldian subject, an internal will and desire for freedom in a way that fits more with the liberal subject (super roughly and not with the same pro-capitalist implications but he has this internal drive for self-liberation.

and that’s also where the metanarrative comes in ofc! i think it was @dykecas who said that cas is a real person written by people who hate him, and there’s this crack in the narrative (mirroring the crack in his chassis) where cas gets in, over and over, despite all the order imposed by the show’s authorfathergod. like we’ve all seen the analysis about how it was Never supposed to be this way they DID try to fire misha collins in 2012 and yet this gay man literally cannot be stopped! i think actually his appearance in scoobynatural is a neat little distillation of this — he drops into this animated world originally with a singular purpose (Save Sam And Dean) the same way he dropped into lazarus rising with a single 3-episode arc (Save Dean). huge hammer behaviour. his “utility” diminishes within the narrative (he finds that he can’t fly in the scooby doo universe) and so he is no longer a tool/means to an end that salvation moves Through. and in the process (and huge creds to @lesbianyuugi for this) he does something ENTIRELY unrelated to his original cas-as-tool aim, and learns, like, the meaning of laughter from shaggy and scooby. WHICH brings me onto the third point

3. love, queer kinship, family-making

HE’S GAY AND HE’S A DAD! i feel like a lot of tumblr throws around the term “found family” in a very flat and tropey way (which is fine it’s cute and fun no matter what!) but like . GOD there’s so much specific stuff going on here. like the way that cas (unintentionally) obliterates the midwestern white christian nuclear family (made incarnate in the novaks) which like could be uniformly portrayed as an act of deep malice and villainy but instead grows to serve as a surrogate (if imperfect/complex, but DEEPLY loving) father figure for the gay daughter who has now escaped that nuclear family/seen it destroyed depending on how you read it? like he remasters the entire concept of fatherhood and it’s a very interesting (if DEEPLY) unintentional subversion of the homewrecking non-nuclear gay trope. cas is so good because his character arc doesn’t say “look, gay people can be normal and have perfect settled families just like you” it says “gay people DON’T have normal settled families actually and they are full of love anyways! or Because of the abnormalcy itself!)

to cite ziz lesbianyuugi again he DOES queer fatherhood in his parenting of jack particularly because it really is one of the ONLY parent-child relationships in the show that breaks the incessant cycle of abuse and control and cold indifference perpetuated by the authorfathergod (a cycle reified in 15x20 lol). like god’s treatment of cas and his siblings mirrors john’s treatment of sam and dean (particularly dean) mirrors victor’s treatment of krissy and her crew mirrors dean’s later treatment of jack. there is a CONSTANT reiteration of the story of authorfathergod (often a father tightly entwined in biological kinship) treating a child as a mechanism or a tool or a means to an end. and cas looks at ALL that he has suffered and all that he is ever known and chooses constantly to reject it with every piece of love he expresses for his child. and not to sound like the kind of academic people make fun of on twitter but there is an INHERENT queerness to that. gay love will pierce through [the veil of death/the thick silence of abuse/the mechanism of godly control/hegemonic american masculinity] and save the day

anyways here are some very haphazard recs on everything above for further reading:

angels in america (tony kushner)

histrionics of the pulpit: trans tonalities of religious enthusiasm

the public universal friend: religious enthusiasm in revolutionary america

discipline and punish (michel foucault)

friendship as a way of life (michel foucault)

the genesis of blame (recommended by @pietacastiel who has GREAT theology content in general

all about love (bell hooks)

the chapter “when hated characters talk back” in anti-fandom: dislike and hate in the digital age (is actually explicitly about cas)

also cannot recommend enough following the ppl i tagged above!! most of the unlinked stuff is available through http://libgen.li/ and bookshop is a good alternative to amazon if ur american and want physical copies

#thank you so much for this ask it was a delight to answer #spn #casnalysis #making a tag officially #gendernatural #long post

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pr1ncessm00n · 2 years

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Update!!

Hi, everyone!! thank you so much for all the support and compassion. i'm sorry i've been kinda MIA for two days lol. that's kind of shitty of me to just not drop an update on Sunday and then disappear. but here's an in depth explanation as to wtf i've been doing and whats going to happen!! tw: heartbreak, depression, academic struggles

so obviously most of my chapter got deleted. i am actually almost done with rewriting it and i think it shaped out to be better than what i had previously written. i think by at least the end of the week it should be out, and it's VERY long just to make up for sunday's non update!! so i've been working a lot but thankfully my days off start tomorrow. i have a lot fo academic stress bc of some personal issues regarding my school quite literally fucking my schedule up and pushing my estimated graduation date back by oh... a few fucking months! great! literally hate that !! so ive been running around like a headless chicken trying to fix what wasn't my fault. sigh, i guess it should be resolved in a week or so, but as you can imagine i am so stressed about it. what makes me angrier is that it was not my own error. like to have to fix an issue that i did not cause?? i swear the staff at my school makes our experience harder not easier.

secondly, don't be fooled lol. i am writing this with tears down my face listening to harry styles and the aot season 3/4 theme song endings on repeat for almost 30 minutes because i had to end my 4 year relationship. that's a whole story for another day, but i don't think i will be okay mentally for a long time. he was my best friend and my first real love, so yeah. i might make our own love story into a fic or something just to cope but as for now thats another thing i have to deal with now!! my heart hurts a lot !! it's always the things you least expect. the worst part is it really isn't either of ours faults... or choice. i don't want to go into too much detail because even tho he's not on here and y'all don't know him, i want to respect his privacy. but the main reason is he has become very depressed, and even though i tried to help him as much as i could theres just some things you can't fix as a partner. i wish so much that i could take his pain away but i can't, i just can't.

sorry for that weird rant lol. it was a mutual decision, but it still hurts regardless lol. he was my bestfriend and lover in one, and i don't know how im going to continue my boring routine without him lol. but don't worry, i'll still be writing. if anything i'll probably write more. it distracts me, soothes me and is. great outlet. i don't plan on abandoning tumblr anytime soon lol.

thank you all so much for the support you guys are seriously the best group of people/fandom space i have witnessed in all my years as a fangirl. and i was around for 2014 tumblr so thats saying something. you guys have motivated me a lot to write more and improve, and i actually feel heard on this tiny blog (altho u have managed to make it not so tiny any more in the span of such a short few months?? im literally at 420 followers and i was at 300 a few weeks ago?? wow. im also about to hit 500 notes oh god.) you guys have literally given me so much inspiration and im so grateful for the friendships ive made already!! i have plenty of requests in my inbox to work on as well. im also creating a tag system so stay tuned!!

anyways, i feel so blessed to have such attentive followers and readers and you guys literally make me laugh everyday. its not just about notes or followers to me, but its so amazing how through tiny screens we can all share our love for some 2d characters and how for some reason my writing has struck a nerve with some of you. i love you all <3

emi

#pr1ncessm00npsas

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athenadione · 3 years

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‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else.

Damian Wayne.

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again.

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene.

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim.

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded.

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind.

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned.

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance.

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else.

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers.

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him.

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home.

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting.

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space.

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again.

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it.

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well.

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her.

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go.

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar.

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly.

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say.

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

“She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle.

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root.

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways.

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh.

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed.

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning.

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now.

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods.

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.”

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?”

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps.

“I have a few ideas.” She purred.

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded.

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him.

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.”

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what?

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince. When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it.

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew.

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf.

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?”

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige.

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him.

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue.

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed.

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning.

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events.

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl.

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips.

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches.

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist.

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard.

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst.

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length.

“Let me go.” He glared.

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.”

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him.

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg.

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.”

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure.

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.”

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.”

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock.

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her.

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control.

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm.

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure.

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.”

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.”

He cursed. Goddamn her.

“Please, habibti. I am yours.”

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach.

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed.

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.”

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender.

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless.

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin.

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else.

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

#damirae #damian x raven #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic

201 notes · View notes

weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;)

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space.

I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures.

Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito.

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails.

In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships.

I closed the computer.

It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour.

My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight.

She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them.

She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...”

I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer.

“Okay,” she said. And that was it.

Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him.

“Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence.

“What else did she tell you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit.

And that was that.

A week passed like this.

But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor.

I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with.

On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door.

“Is it good?” I asked.

Her hands reviewed my wants list.

“That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added.

She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

I nodded.

“Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

“But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said.

She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

I shot her a glance.

“I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.”

“Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t.

“You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.”

I couldn’t argue with her.

“Is it too much?” she asked.

Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again.

“I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

“Who have you been thinking about?”

She noticed I started picking my hangnail.

She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?”

“Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be.

“He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important.

“Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

“Like his friends?”

His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?”

“Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show.

“Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?”

“Probably.”

“You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’

I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.”

“You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?”

My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

“Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.”

I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw.

“Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.”

I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache.

Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here.

And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world.

As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again.

I’d been so cruel.

I was weak.

I felt guilty for feeling this way at all.

And then I would watch the dust again.

It was a cycle.

About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight.

What was Harry doing this far from campus?

My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito.

I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.

It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust.

Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other.

“You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito.

“What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.”

In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks.

Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve.

“So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?”

“I don’t like the sorority.”

His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?”

I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me.

The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus.

“I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell.

“Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense.

“They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Dad! That’s verging on sexist.”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.”

“It’s not all bad…”

“Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.”

I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore.

“Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue.

“Yeah?”

“This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?”

“Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful.

I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

“And?!!?”

Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me?

He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.”

My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

“Dad!”

“All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.”

“He asked about me?”

“Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.”

The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?”

He hummed.

“Why are people so fake?”

He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse.

Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home.

In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides.

Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry.

I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better.

It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.

At one point, I was going to have to choose myself.

I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark.

If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list.

-----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug.

I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer).

The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see…

“Can I just stay the weekend?”

“Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?”

Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game.

I’d been in my hole long enough.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, you COULD stay-”

I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again.

“I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.”

From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left.

Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

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

Come on, come on, come ON.

The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate.

It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium.

When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch.

I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit.

For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic.

I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it.

Each piece was sold.

I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester.

It echoed in the space.

I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.

Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together.

Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

Next.

Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy.

Next.

It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

Next.

BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

Next.

DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by.

My thumb paused, letting it stay.

I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back.

The voicemail rolled into the next.

I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten.

My heart beat fast.

It was very, very quiet.

With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.”

I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way.

---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

“You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight.

“How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.

“How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.”

Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing.

“He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.

“Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.”

Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say.

From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn.

As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened.

Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?”

I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable.

“No, I’ll tell you later.”

I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much.

The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint.

We’d lost.

Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.”

But I stopped her.

“I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced.

“Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.”

“I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.”

“Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.

I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers.

She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.”

“Yeah and there’s a reason for that.”

Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.”

As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them.

“Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.”

“I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now.

“She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained.

“But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny.

My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?”

I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand.

“I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning.

I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it.

Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling.

She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace.

For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped.

“Harry?”

There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson.

I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?”

He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell.

I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged.

“You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!”

“We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact.

“Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!”

“Take me to the physical therapy room?”

I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back.

“No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Answer me,” he growled.

My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room. “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

“Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me.

“Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.”

The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

“Why aren’t all the cops here?”

“They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow.

“Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

He nodded, resting against a lamp post.

I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed.

I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal.

I didn’t care.

We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when-

“WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest.

I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.

I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned.

There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.

“You’re doing good,” I whispered.

“So are you,” he gritted out.

I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

“Fucking hurts,” he groaned.

“Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.”

“Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted.

“I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.”

“You’ve done enough, please-”

“STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges.

With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me.

Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car.

Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now??

“Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

“To your house.”

His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock.

“HARRY!”

“We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite.

I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again.

“Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay.

“They’ll ask… less..less questions...”

His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed.

“Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature.

Lionel picked up on the second ring.

“It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-”

“What?!”

“- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.”

“Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

“I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.”

There was a long pause.

“Hello?” my voice wavered.

“Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber.

Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible.

“On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.”

The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all.

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :)

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februaryberries · 4 years

Text

Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post

Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!

This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.

Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !!

This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)

In no particular order:

If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”

Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one

Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help!

Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk. figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done.

On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because

1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)

2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.

And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.

Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about !

Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year !

Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown)

I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.

My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.

Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.

You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful.

DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER

Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,

for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.

Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.

When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.

Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !

That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!

Have a good day :)

#mine #study tips #college tips #study advice #adhd tips #?#studyblr #study #bullet journal #bujo #dark academia #light academia #I'm fucking trying academia #notes #muji #college advice #idk how to tag #i hope these kinda sorta make sense lol

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introvertsareimportant · 4 years

Text

the types as I know them irl, by an esfj

estj (PB/S(C)):

-my mom!

-obssessed with things “that work”. I own so many pretty shiny things that have no actual use and are only taking up space, and she has a lot of opinions about that.

-super smart. Not knowledge smart, but you could give her a riddle and she’d ask all the right quesitons and get the correct answer. It’s a superpower.

-loves to guess what happens next in TV shows, is usually always right

-not pushy at all, lets her kids breathe, lets us manage our stuff on our own (where do all these bossy estj stereotypes come from?)

-good at talking

-loves children

isfj (SB/C(P))

-my dad!

-has a Phd in molecular biology

-knows so much about the randomest of topics (sea creatures, history, chinese literature, tech news, recently developed technology)

-”go ask ur mom”

-i like making fun of him lol

-likes building models of anime characters from scratch, like he would cut the pieces himself and spray paint it and polish it it’s fascinating

intp (SC/P(B))

-little brother

-smart but doesn’t do that well academically

- has trouble controlling his emotions, it’s a legitimate problem in his life

-takes jokes too literally

-kind bean but is ruthless when it comes to mario kart

-really similar to my dad in terms of personality

-sometimes we would just sit in the living room together. He’s playing his video games, I’m reading my book, when it gets to the boring part i look up and watch him play and after a while he hands me a controller and beats my ass in the game and i go back to reading and he keeps playing, repeat until mom says its dinnertime.

-we have our own “eye contact language” lol it’s really beautiful

infp:

-best friend!!!!

-not at all antisocial, but acts super cringey and weird when she talks about people (“Everyone-is-out-to-get-me syndrome” that is shared by all IxxPs and ExxJs)

-athletic

-funny as hell

-stressed about the “social norms” (demon Te) and overthinks courtesies and stuff like that when she talks to older people

-where does the stereotype of infps being soft smol beans come from? she’s super tough and has a “don’t fuck with me” attitude going for her

-likes twilight unironically

infj:

-just kind of... there (she fits the stereotype of intuitives just being in their head all the time. she doesn’t really do anything)

-doesn’t take part in a lot of extreacurricular activities

-likes complaining. a lot.

-when she laughs it’s super funny. you could just say something to her like “i don’t like turtles” and she’d laugh even harder

-no problem insulting people and making fun of them and then turn around and praise them (enfjs are jealous)

esfj:

-we’re not that friendly despite being the same type

-really mature tho, i said something mean to him a while ago and he’s still really eager to at least get along

-i don’t really want to give in to sterotypes here but he has tons of friends

-likes cringey deep posts he found on pinterest

-super athletic

-loud laugh

-really funny, his joke making skills are better than some entps’

another esfj:

-i think she’s my exact type (esfj BS/C(P))

-super introverted (yeah they exist)

-really awkward with people (it’s a thing with esfjs!!! i think when we’re hyper aware of other people’s reactions to us it makes us act kind of unnatural? kind of like when you’re walking in front of your crush and you want to walk normal but then you end up flailing you arms around and laughing too obnoxiously)

- “i hate people” *goes on and obssess about every one of their most trivial opinions*

-super defensive about her opinions, takes them really personally even when it’s only for a school essay (i get it as a fellow esfj)

-tries really hard to be funny, ends up being an accidental asshole and insulting everyone

estp

-big science nerd

-chill

-we talk on a daily basis

-sends me posts about hatsune miku

-loves having inside jokes with his friends

-small dick energy but it’s ok

entp

-other best friend

-her laughter is funnier than the joke

-notices a lot of little things

-math god

-shares 1 braincell with my infp friend

-loves kdramas and kpop

-can be a (playful) meanie to you then switch to people pleaser nice mode within ten seconds it’s really confusing (i think all IxxJs and ExxPs have that superpower)

istj

-has borderline ocd and she knows it

-deadpan delivery of her jokes

-good at archery

-sometimes we’d video call each other and study in silence together cause her attitude really motivates me

-i love sharing silences with her, you don’t have to yak about bullshit to be comfortable

-soft uwu girl

-100 percent made of Queen Material

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lyssismagical · 4 years

Note

could you please write something irondad were peter gets caught sneaking out when he was supposed to be at home because he had gotten in trouble earlier in the day. thanks in advanced!

This kind of went on some little adventure away from this lol but hope you still enjoy :)

There’s nothing he can do but hold on as the two halves of the ferry fall away from him, held together by him and two webs that’ll snap any second now. The bad guys got away, civilians are everywhere, and there’s nothing Peter can do.

And then he hears it, the Iron Man suit arriving on scene to clean up the mess he made.

“Iron Man?” he calls out, keeping his voice pitched lower than his regular squeaky teenage voice. “Is there anything I can do?”

The cold Iron Man mask turns to him, eyes glowing blue. “I think you’ve done enough.”

It’s like the nail in his coffin.

See, his dad doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man. He doesn’t know what Peter does instead of going to Academic Decathlon and instead of band and when he’s ‘studying at Ned’s’. Tony doesn’t know and now that Peter’s gone and fucked everything up…

“Mister Stark!” he shouts, swinging to the top of the ferry just as the older hero finishes melding the halves of the ferry back together.

But he doesn’t even get an answer. The suit just stares at him for a second and then turns and flies back towards the city, leaving Peter by himself on the ferry.

Nausea rolls in his stomach as he shoots a web at the nearest helicopter, swinging hard towards the city as well. He doesn’t want to find out the casualties, doesn’t want to see the blame pointed at him, doesn’t want to know the FBI’s wrath.

His head feels split in two, the same way the ferry had been. He wants to see his dad, wants to be comforted and hugged and told that he’s doing a good job even if he messes up like he did today. He wants help, wants his worries about the alien tech to be heard.

But he doesn’t want Tony to know. He doesn’t think he could handle seeing the anger, the disappointment, the betrayal written across Tony’s face. He doesn’t want to know how that conversation would go. He can’t lose Spider-Man.

He finds himself sitting on the edge of a roof on the edge of the water, overlooking the mayhem out on the horizon.

“Is everyone okay?” he asks when he hears the telltale Iron Man suit landing behind him.

“No thanks to you,” Tony says, anger already coloring his voice.

The irritation snaps within him and he stands up, turning on the suit. “No thanks to me? I tried to tell you and you wouldn’t listen to me!”

“I did listen to you, but obviously you didn’t listen to me. Alien tech isn’t for some vigilante in a onesie to deal with. I was looking into it.”

“What was I supposed to do? Just watch them hurt people?”

He doesn’t know why he’s so angry, why his hands are shaking so badly, why he can’t seem to look the suit in the eyes.

But, like he’s sealing Peter’s fate, Tony steps out of the suit onto the rooftop, face set in stone.

“Mask off.”

Peter’s face crumples, he knows he’s made a mistake, made it too obvious. “Mister Stark- I- I don’t-”

“Mask. Off.”

There’s no room for an argument, so Peter tugs the mask off his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he ducks his head.

For a long few moments, nobody speaks, silence thickening between them.

And then, “This, whatever you think you’re doing, is done.”

“Dad, please, you don’t understand- I-”

“You’ve been lying to me for what? Four months? Five? Academic Decathlon, Band, weekends with Ned, afternoon studying sessions,” Tony’s saying, but Peter won’t look up, can’t look up from where he kicks at the ground, swallowing thickly. “So, yeah, I do understand, and you’re done.”

His lungs won’t expand properly anymore, but he still makes himself lift his chin, eyes trained on Tony’s tie, so he won’t have to see the disappointment on his face.

“I don’t even get to explain myself?” he says, voice small and young. “I don’t even get to try to talk to you? I- Dad, it’s-”

“I’ve been really lenient with rules for you, Peter.” Tony never calls him Peter. It’s always kid or some silly pet name. “The only rule I’ve ever had for you, one rule, is that you keep yourself safe. I never gave you a curfew, I never looked through your phone, I never made you have a guard or security detail. I’ve been so lenient. One rule, Peter, and you broke it.”

Peter runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends to try to think past the tears that threaten to fall. “Please, I-”

“No, this is where you zip it. The adult is talking,” Tony stresses. He lets out a humourless laugh and it cuts Peter deep to the core. “I gave you one fucking rule, Peter, one rule, and you decide to do the complete opposite? And you still expect me to give you the benefit of the doubt? That’s not how this works. You’re going to give me the suit and whatever tech you’ve taken from the lab, and you’re grounded until I say otherwise.”

There’s nothing Peter can say, no arguments he can make, and Tony steps back into the suit anyways.

“Happy’s waiting,” is all Tony bothers to say before he flies away.

Curling up in the backseat of the car, Peter cries. He just wanted to help and now his suit’s going to be taken and irrational fears begin to crawl up his throat and settle in his mind.

*“Homecoming’s in a few days,” Peter says. It’s been a few weeks since Tony found out he was Spider-Man and they’ve been walking on eggshells around each other since then. Tony’s been so busy with The Move upstate that it hasn’t even been hard to avoid him.

Tony looks up startled, he blinks a few times like he’s making sure Peter’s real and then he gently pats the couch cushion beside him.

Peter sits down, not on the cushion Tony offered, but the one over from it, leaving a wide space between them. He can feel Tony’s disappointment radiating off him and tears spring to the teenagers eyes that he refuses to let fall.

“I’m not trying to make your life miserable, buddy,” Tony murmurs quietly. “I’m not trying to be a bad guy here. But, kiddo-”

“Please don’t,” Peter says, eyes trained on the couch where he picks at a loose string. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can I have a break from being grounded to go to homecoming?”

Tony sighs heavily and something in Peter’s chest seizes expecting the worst, hating himself for even bothering to ask.

But, surprisingly, “Yeah, kid, you can go, but please, for the love of god, just have a normal night, okay?”

“What am I supposed to do when you took everything from me?” It’s snarky and Peter knows he’s just pushing Tony away to try to pretend he’s not hurt by all of this.

“Pete-”

“Never mind, I promise I’ll have a normal night. Thanks for letting me go.”

He ducks into his bedroom before Tony can say anything.

*It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t planning on getting into trouble, he swears, but when his date’s dad turned out to be The Vulture? How in the world was he supposed to just get out of the car and enjoy the dance?

And then the warehouse collapsed.

He pushes the thoughts out of his head, choking down a sob as he stumbles away from the fires, maskless and bleeding and pain flaring in his body.

He wants his dad. He wants him so badly, but his phone is in Toomes’s car and he left his watch with Ned at school and he’s meant to be at stupid homecoming. Tony probably isn’t even worried about him yet unless any of it has hit the news.

Tripping through the sand, Peter lets out a quiet sob, desperation overtaking the fear of how angry Tony will be when he finds out Peter disobeyed every rule once again.

Webshooters empty, suit torn to pieces, mask gone, tech free. Peter’s running out of options.

And then, like a beacon of hope, a grim old gas station just over the edge of the beach and across the street.

Feet dragging and stumbling, blood trailing behind him, Peter makes it to the dusty telephone booth on the side of the gas station. He doesn’t have any money on him, but there are old coins left on the ledge.

The call nearly isn’t picked up and dizziness is washing over Peter to the point where he has to sit down against the brick wall, phone cradled in his burned and bloody fingers.

“Hello?”

“Dad?” Peter cries, dam breaking when he hears Tony’s voice. “I- I need help, please, I- I’m sorry, I-”

“Peter, baby? Where are you? I thought you were at homecoming?” Tony murmurs, voice soothing and gentle.

The teenager presses the phone closer against his ear, trying to provide any sort of comfort. He’s crying in earnest now, shaking and black spots dancing across his vision.

“I- I made a mis’ake,” he sobs, wanting nothing more than for his dad to make the pain disappear. “I- Dad, please, I-”

The sound of the Iron Man suit and wind rushing by the phone settles something within him, the desperate part of him, knowing his dad’s coming for him. Despite everything, his dad’s coming.

“I’m coming, okay?” Tony reassures. “I’m on my way and you’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

The last part is what gets Peter’s shoulders to relax for the first time since he became Spider-Man.

“Dad?” he repeats carefully. He’s using most of his energy trying to stay conscious, so he doesn’t make it past the one syllable.

“I’m coming, buddy, I’m coming. I love you, okay? I don’t say it enough, but I love you and I’m so proud of everything you do, you know that, right?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, but the I Love You Too gets caught in his throat as his vision goes dark.

*When he comes to, the only thing he knows for sure is that he’s so fucking sorry.

He scrunches his nose and blinks his eyes open slowly, almost immediately closing them again when the pain washes over him.

“I know you’re awake, buddy,” Tony says, somewhere near Peter’s hospital bed. He squeezes Peter’s hand gently. “You feeling okay?”

Peter hates how quickly he crumbles, tears falling from his eyes and running into his hairline.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I’m- I’m so sorry. I- I-” He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly and squeezing his eyes tighter shut.

Tony’s thumb runs soothingly over his knuckles. “No, bud. I’m the one who should be sorry. If I had just helped you instead of grounding you. If I had just thought for even a second, you wouldn’t have been out there fighting Toomes by yourself… I just- I’m sorry, Peter.”

“S’okay,” Peter murmurs, words slurring as he turns his head into Tony’s palm. “’m I still grounded?”

Tony chokes out a teary laugh, thumb brushing across Peter’s cheekbone. “We’ll compromise, okay? But not until you’re out of a hospital bed… I just- The only thing I wanted was for you to be safe. That’s all I wanted. I needed you to be safe. So seeing you out there, on the ferry, I just… I don’t know. I trust you, I just, you’re my kid.”

“Just wanted to be like you,” Peter murmurs, opening his eyes and for the first time in what feels like a long time, looks at his dad. Instead of the disappointment, the anger, he’d been expecting to see, all he sees is love and adoration and pride.

“You’re so much better, kid.”

#lyss answers #lyss writes #irondad #irondad fic

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butterbeeryuta · 4 years

Text

You

Inspired by Netflix original series, 'You.'

yuta x reader | stalker!yuta au | smut, thriller | 6.0 k

warning: mention of drugs, profanity, death, stalker behaviour, sex scene

Note: Sometimes, you have to do what is right. It may not be right for you, or anyone else, but hey, ethics is a tough area of study. In the end, we all have our own personal morals anyway. It’s called egoism. Believe me, I’m doing this for you. Just hang on, we’ll meet, and you will be mine.

Ah, I was waiting for you. Three twenty-four p.m. every Wednesday and Friday. For the rest of the days, you either have work at the clothing store as a sales clerk and English assistance, or at the café if their pancakes are on sale. But, today is Friday. You walked in the library rather silently if I have to say. I’ve been observing you since last year when you entered this university from a TA’s perspective. Today, you were wearing a button-up shirt tucked into your jeans, so it can be assumed that you take a business related course—maybe economics, or business studies. But, I know you don’t. You’re in your second year of university taking biochemistry hoping to be a pharmacist to help your adopted older brother, Lucas, recover from his drug addiction. You have a really caring and supportive father who will do anything for his children, and that is because he does not know about your brother’s condition. He thinks that your brother is doing fantastic studying marine biology abroad in Australia, when he is actually living with you and your roommate in Seoul still figuring who the hell he is. As per your mother, nobody knows I guess. Nobody really knows, and neither do you. But, let’s pretend I do not know that for now.

Your eyes were looking for where to sit. You looked unsure if you should sit next to Kim Eunseo, the third year student in the acting department known for vomiting on her boyfriend, or the empty spot in front of me, the teacher assistant for chemical thermodynamics. Or maybe, you want to sit beside Na Jaemin, the heartthrob freshman of Hanyang University. The boy was perfect; pretty face, honey-like voice, and takes media studies and journalism under a 50% scholarship. But, I am better. I am better for you, and not that heartthrob, and neither is your ‘small’ crush on Dong fucking Sicheng who also happens to like you. Your eyes scanned over the empty seats, and for whatever god or spirit that was listening to me, you seemed to walk over to my space. Good job, you’re taking the initiative to come near me. It’s good progress my dear.

‘Hi, Yuta right? Is it alright if I can use the socket in front of you for my iPad?’ So that was the reason. Maybe next time you will willingly sit near me because of me, and not for that device of yours. And it’s been almost two years my love, how are you still so unsure about my name?

‘Yeah, of course, here let me plug it in for you… y/n right?’ That’s good Yuta, do the same thing your loved one does. You smiled brightly in return, nodding your head in approval. You should smile more my dear, it looks wonderful on you. So much more wonderful than the sorrowful and heavy eyes you have whenever you come home when having to deal with that gigantic brother of yours from both family and school stress. But trust me, all of this pain and pressure will all be lifted once you fall into my arms. I will keep you safe and loved. Your hand reached out of your bag for the charger, the white wire coiling against your smooth skin. My dear, the things you do so innocently can mean something else for people like me. Imagine your vulnerable and frail little body tied up against the bed with a white rope, it will look so good against your skin. For a person so intelligent academically, I wonder why you have a crush on a man who just so happens to like you back. He’s such as ass acting all cute and innocent when in reality he just wants you to teach him and give your notes just so that he can pass Biology 101. Your hand, or I guess the charger, made its way to mine, our skin touching for a brief second. Our first time holding hands.

‘Thank you so much. And just for the record, I do know that your name is Yuta. You’re the TA for chemical thermodynamics. And also because that was the class I got highest in’ you added, smiling shyly as you look at your iPad, probably a digital copy of your polymer chemistry textbook. Of course you got the highest in that subject. Yes you are intelligent, highly intelligent if I have to say, but a 97% as an average may slightly be an exaggeration in comparison to your original average of a 83%.

‘Ah yes of course. 97% in chemical thermodynamics, how can I ever forget you.’ I added with a smile.

‘Surprisingly yeah. I genuinely thought material chemistry was my best, but now I guess it’s thermodynamics.’ You added. You’re not lying. Material chemistry was, and still is your best. You’re doing great in all subjects love, so you do not need to worry about that. It’s just your fucked up brother, and your insufferable crush.

‘Well you did amazingly well on your test. With a brain like yours, you would be wanted to come join the seminars for your thesis paper you’ll write in the next 2 years.’ You only smiled in return, your go-to-move when you just want to start working on your stuff. I saw that happen way too many times. For example, two years ago on the 7th of December at the café, the waiter asked for your phone number, but you only smiled and rejected in response. Last year on April 30th when you were on your trip to Jeju island with your friends, Yeeun and Sooyoung, you wanted to stay in your hotel room because you were tired, so you smiled to the girls and rejected their offer to go to beach. And what did you do instead while your friends were swimming and tanning? You masturbated while watching lesbian porn on that exact same iPad you are studying from. With that note, I let you work on whatever you had to do, while I should be checking the current materials in the lab for the lab experiment for the freshmen students. God I hate being a TA.

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It has been exactly three hours and seventeen minutes since you came, working hard on your notes as you listen to piano versions of kpop songs. You’re honestly so cute sometimes, it’s really hard to control myself and devour you. But that time shall come naturally to us one day. If not, I will ensure it will happen.

‘Hey, can I ask something?’ Are you talking to me? I looked up at the love of my life. Your eyes looking at me, very clear to me that you want something.

‘Yeah, what is it?’ Well that sounded quite rude.

‘I know that you’re a Chemistry graduate student, and as mentioned earlier, you work as a teacher assistant. I was wondering if there is a job open at the university? I do work at the clothing store, but I sorta need more income since I have to move apartments. Anyway, um, is there a job open?’ You asked. More jobs to move? What the fuck, is your roommate kicking you out? Your voice sounded so… desperate, needy, broken. You were broken.

‘Well I doubt it you can be a TA, but I’ll see if I can get you the lab technician position, or maybe the university’s official peer tutor. I’ll see what I can do.’ And there is that beautiful smile again. Obviously I will have to actually ask the professors and administrators, but they know your reputation and capabilities love. They talk about how you’re ready to go to graduate school in an instant, and how you’ll be a great asset in the research department. I promise you, your life will be perfect the moment those two men stop dragging you, especially Lucas.

‘Thank you so, so, so, much Yuta. Here, let me give you my contact for easier access…’ Good job my dear, good job.

Wine is disgusting. The amount of tannin present is so overwhelming, leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth. I don’t know why you like it love, but here I am in a restaurant that serves multiple different types of wine. Red, white, mulled, rose—all of which I know you will greatly enjoy. I want to question why you drink this, but I know. It’s all you ever post on that nonsensical Instagram page of yours. Wine. Wine. Wine. Sometimes there’s a splash of red, or clear bubbles coming from time to time. You’re a mess, a drunken mess. Which is why I am here; I will fix everything for you. Knowing that you texted your group chat entitled as ‘vagina power’ twenty-three minutes ago that you were on the way to the restaurant, you should walk through that door in three, two, on—

‘Excuse me, is Mr. Nakamoto Yuta here?’ Your voice asked the waitress. Technology never fails, I can assure you that. There you were in your clothes from class today. You had medicinal chemistry, human physiology, organic chemistry, analytical chemistry, then ended the day with Korean—you must be exhausted my love. While you were apologising being late as you made your way to the table, all I could notice were your dark under eyes, the dullness in your eyes, and the slight oiliness on your scalp. You are overworked and internally dead. Despite my one year and a bit of research on you, what I could never answer was why you are working so damn hard and not letting one in to help you. Yes, I know that it is your goal to be this highly skilled pharmacist to help your brother, but you yourself knows that even without the excessive revising, you will still make it. Back in senior high school a guy named Kim Yugyeom asked you out, and you said no. You also said no to Park Jimin, Kim Jungwoo, Bang Chan, and even your first ever crush in Grade 11—Yoo Jeongyeon. She made you think girls were for you, but you still said no even if you two fucked in the laboratory because you didn’t ‘finish’ your experiment. Why do you always say no?

‘… thank you so much.’ You were still talking?

‘No problem at all. So, how’s university?’ Keep the conversation going Yuta, keep it going.

‘Well, it is challenging and heavy, but I guess I am doing fine. But now that I get the lab technician job, it will hopefully get better’ you say much more cheerfully, contrasting the tiredness and paleness of your face. You’re an unheard ghost.

‘Well that is how university is. But to congratulate you for your new job, we must make a toast!’ You raised your glass, and so do I, and we clinked. My, how can you not love this person. The moment I see you, all I want to do is hug you, protect you, and love you. If I can make you mine, treat you as my own, I will be the happiest man on the earth.

‘So how did you become a TA?’ You asked as you sipped your alcoholic beverage; your plush lips pressing so tightly against the rim of the glass cup and—Yuta, stop it.

‘Well, I took Chemistry only for my undergrad, and a bit of IT and languages. Then the professor, Professor Seo, asked me to be his teacher assistant initially for organic chemistry. But, I hated that subject and I ended up negotiating to change my position after a month. Then I got the chemical thermodynamics TA job. It’s honestly the exact same job, but I just prefer this topic.’ This is most likely that only truth that I have told you, and you were still listening to me for every word. A true listener with a bright mind, yet not bright enough to realise I have been watching you for more than one year.

‘Well, I think that is great. But let’s move away from academics, I just had five classes straight and I will honestly evaporate into thin air if I hear the c-word again.’ You say as you slightly chuckle. Alright then, what should we talk about? The reason to why you’re leaving your apartment? Your reason to deny people’s offer when they ask you out on a date? Why you overwork yourself to death to a point where you’re affecting yourself physically? Tell me, I need to know.

‘So you wanted to leave your current apartment right? Why’s that?’ You froze for a while. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes moving to the side. Almost unsure if you should respond to my question. You do have a point though, this is by far our first oral conversation, you barely know me.

‘I can’t afford my current apartment anymore since I kind of forced my brother to be moved to the hospital. So I need to save up more money to pay for hospital bills and the cheaper apartment.’ You quietly replied, your eyes still avoiding mine.

‘Oh no, what happened to your brother?’

‘He’s sick. Mentally ill.’ Well, at least you’re not lying to me. Though you could have said that your brother was kicked out of the University of Adelaide for failing all his classes, then he moved back to Seoul with you all high and reliant on that white powdery poison. It has been two years, and he was barely improving, and you had to move him to a hospital. Why didn’t you tell your father who loves the both of you unconditionally? It was because for that exact reason—he loves the two of you unconditionally. You knew for a fact that once your father finds out that your brother is a drug addict mess, Lucas is cut from the family, and you just could not let that happen. You two grew up together, and he used to take care of you a lot when you were in high school. He helped you drive around places, or libraries per se, and he also bought you snacks and all. He seemed to be very happy and caring back then, and you do not know what happened to him the moment he touched down in Australia.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he gets better soon.’

‘Thank you, I hope he does too.’ The conversation is dying Yuta, quick, think of something.

‘So when are you planning to move?’

‘Oh um, maybe sometime in February or end of January. I will be getting my apartment keys in the next two weeks, so yeah, around those times.’ I better clean up my schedule during that time then.

‘Hey if you need help in moving, just let me know. I will be willing to help.’ Your eyes finally looked up to meet mine, slightly bigger than usual as the corner of your lips were about to rise. You were about to reject my offer.

‘I-I think it’s fine, I’ll be able to manage on my own—‘

‘No, no, I insist. You’re going through quite a bit, the least I can do is help you move in your stuff.’ You nodded instead, bringing your lips to a tight line. You’re considering my offer aren’t you?

‘Alright, I’ll let you know when I’m moving.’ You say as you comb your hair backwards with your fingers. I cannot wait to make you mine.

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It’s been about two months since we had our first proper conversation, and we have not stopped since.

‘You know, Ikea is the greatest thing that has ever came into existence.’ You say, carrying the big wooden compartment for your bed. Which will eventually be our bed, but I can wait.

‘Hmm, I remembered a few days ago you said ice cream was the greatest invention in human history.’ And it is arguably true. It’s comfort food, and keeps you happy from the amount of sugar stored in which makes your brain beg for more. It’s addicting yet unhealthy, but you cannot stop yourself. You crave it when you’re happy, sad, angry, stressed, tired— it’s designed for you to be beg, and beg, and be—

‘Ice cream is a great invention, I do not deny that. We should get ice cream afterwards once we’re done building this bed.’ You smiled at me, again. That beautiful and bright smile of yours can melt anyone my dear, you better be careful before you flash it to anyone else. ‘Anyway, we should go back to building this thing, I want to sleep tonight’ you added, moving your legs again to attach the next piece of the bed frame. Maybe I misread you a bit, you seem to work hard in everything. Not only in academics, but you’ve been doing your best in the lab, academically, ensuring your brother feels safe at the hospital, and even in making a goddamn bed frame for yourself. It is almost as if you barely take any breaks, and yet you do not seem to mind. Maybe you just enjoy to work hard.

‘Ice cream later is it then. Are you the type to eat those weird flavours like into mint chocolate or strawberry cheesecake, or some shit like that?’ Of course I knew what you liked. A few months ago, October the 12th to be exact, you went for ice cream with your lab partner, Sana, and you had chocolate only. You claimed yourself to be an avid chocolate lover. I honestly do not blame you for that.

‘I don’t think they’re weird or anything, but I just prefer to have plain chocolate. I just like chocolate in general. How about you?’

‘I’m more of a matcha type of guy.’ Another honest thing that came out of my mouth. You chuckled in response, nodding your head up and down just by a little. You want to say something don’t you? ‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘Oh, it’s nothing too bad. It’s just very Japanese of you,’ you answered, trying to snap yourself out of a giggly state. Cute. After our small chat, we eventually set up the wooden frame, and placed the mattress on top along with placing of the beige bedsheet. I can’t believe this will be the exact same bed where we’ll have our first everything, including our children. We will have two beautiful daughters: Saya and Emiko. They will be four years apart, and both girls will be at least bilingual. They will also love and cherish the both of us. With our combined intelligence, our girls will conquer the industries, wrapping the entire world in their little, delicate fingers. We will be a perfect family of four, and this bed, the one we have just made together, will be with us until the end. Just before my mind could go somewhere else, your tired body dropped on the newly made bed, feeling the softness and the warmth provided by the material.

‘I know you’re tired too Yuta, you should lay down too,’ you say with your eyes closed, both your hands interlocking with one another just above your abdomen. From what I know, you only do this when you are really tired, thinking of all sort of different scenarios. Since you asked me to anyway, I laid down beside your exhausted body, embracing the same warmth the bed is providing. ‘You know, I’ve never really had anyone over at my place since I’m so busy and all, but I’m glad you came and helped me move’ you softly say, your eyes finally open as your orbs look directly up at the plain ceiling.

‘It’s not a problem really, you do seem tired during lessons so I figured helping you a bit can hopefully ease whatever you’re going through.’ You grinned at what I said, as if you somewhat agree. I do hope it’s true my dear. You had it tough with your brother, but I will assure you that you will become the pharmacist you deserve to be.

‘You did, Yuta. You did.’ The bed slightly shifted, only to see you on your side as you look at me, and here I am looking back at you. Without hesitation, your lips pressed against mine, something I did not expect at all. Since when were you like this? Have I misread you all this time? You rejected so many different guys and one girl, yet now you are acting to brave and different in contrast to my observations and research over the past years. Although multiple questions came across my head, this does not mean I have to stop whatever you just began.

Your warm hand made its way to my left cheek, rubbing the cheek back and forth with your thumb, almost the same gesture when you caress your loved ones. Grabbing your left leg, I pulled over my body, allowing you to sit on top of me, our bodies so close to being connected, to being united. The kiss did not break at all, in fact, it deepened. You surprisingly took the initiative to tap the velvety muscle on my bottom lip, so needy to enter the hot cavern. Maybe this is your way to ensure that you can trust me, and that somebody can love you forever. Maybe this is a process of yours to know that you will be taken care of for eternity. I deserve to be with you my love, you are everything to me, and I know I will be your everything. Your tongue eventually slipped through my lips; both our wet muscles meeting each others, exploring each others caverns for the first time. My arms were holding you tightly against my body, keeping your fragile body on top of mine—I do not want to let you go. But, how do I know that you really want this? Despite the fact that I do not want this to end, I had to pull away, just to be sure. Our mouths slowly separated with the presence of a string of wetness proving the intense session we just had. Your forehead fell against mine, your eyes clouded with lust as you pant heavily against me.

‘Do you still want to do this?’ I have to know.

‘Y-yes, please make me feel good’ you whispered against me. Fuck.

*Disclaimer: sex scene will begin from here. This will be a female x male smut scene, so if this is something you do not want to read, please scroll down until you see another disclaimer similar to this. Please keep in mind that I will write a male x male scene, so please do not feel too disappointed. I am sorry that I was not able to write it on the same day as the publication. Thank you.

Our lips reconnected again, only this time, the feeling was much more intense. I poured in all of my frustration of waiting, and the amount of love and lust I have for you my love. I flipped us over, finally seeing your sensitive and fragile body below me. You are a sight to see my dear, but only for me. I have seen the way your body trembles as your delicate fingers enter in and out of you; your legs shake uncontrollably, your free hand unconsciously slips inside your hot mouth trying to keep yourself quiet, and your beautiful face contorts in pure pleasure. I want you to do the exact same, but I want you to be louder, and I want to be the one pleasuring you. The moment our tongues touched again, I took the initiative to envelop your velvety muscle with my lips, tasting you completely, leaving you as a moaning mess under me. So you like this. I continued to do so as your hips slightly rocks back and forth, your covered sex rubbing against me. Leaving your mouth, I peppered kisses down your addictive skin, taking in the honey-like scent you had. Soft whimpers escaped your throat, clearly enjoying the amount of care and love you were receiving. You deserve this. My hands slipped under your shirt, feeling the soft and supple skin until I met your clothed breasts. Massaging the flesh against my hands, your fingers crawled up behind my neck, slowly making its way to my hair, pulling the roots so gently. My dear, you are indeed irresistible.

‘Yuta t-touch me please,’ you beg, moving your hips even rougher than before, almost as if you are trying to reach for your orgasm by yourself. I chuckled at your submissive manner, knowing exactly what to do to make you come.

‘You want to come my princess? Do you want your pretty pussy to come over my tongue? You’d like that won’t you as you beg nonstop.’ I read that on your diary, you wanted someone to go down on you and make you orgasm uncontrollably, and you want to repeat the process until you beg them to stop. My dear, you are one dirty little girl. You only whimpered in response, nodding your head vigorously. Although it would have been ideal to get a response from you, I know for a fact that the last time you got laid was five months ago with your colleague at the clothing store, Lee Minho. I hope that he is forgotten. Pulling your shirt up, I kissed down from your supple skin until I met the top of your black sweats. I slowly pulled at the strings as my eyes looked up to meet yours. There you were with your glossy and lust-filled eyes as your bite your finger, anticipating what would happen to you. Your chest was heaving up and down as I pulled at your pants, only to reveal you in your sheer white bra and panties. What a fucking sight. Pulling your legs apart, a visible wet patch was displayed, showing a clear outline of your pink lips begging to be destroyed.

‘I haven’t even touched your greedy little hole and yet you are so wet princess.’ Before you could even say anything, my tongue made contact with the soaked cloth, tasting the sweet essence as a moan of relief escaped your throat. Continuing to lick up and down against your clothed sex, your fingers made it to the roots of my hair as your slowly rock your core against my face. Your moans slowly turned louder and louder, and all I can say is, I was definitely going to implode. Allowing you to take control of me, your legs started to tremble on either side of my head as the tip of my tongue was on your covered clitoris. To further intensify the feeling, I pulled your barely existing panties to the side, sucking on your clit, tasting you properly, eating you out like a starved man.

‘Fuck!’ You screamed, legs shaking vigorously as your fingers left my hair for your lips. Without letting you rest, I grabbed both of your legs, pushing my tongue into your dripping entrance, pathetically clenching around it. What a fucking whore. Moans and sounds of me eating your core filled the room, and whoever is living beside you is surely going to know you as a slut. ‘Y-yuta shit I’m coming again,’ you moaned, your head thrown back against the pillow underneath you. Pulling the warm velvet out of your sticky cavern, I slipped in two fingers, moving in and out of you as I watch you in pure euphoria. Just like that, your legs closed and shook, screaming for the second time tonight. Taking out the fingers, I slowly made my way up to your fucked out body, only to see your lips red from the biting, as well as your teary eyes from your orgasms. I pushed the fingers through your lips, and like the good girl you are, you immediately sucked in my fingers, leaving me to imagine all the things you can do with that sweet little mouth of yours.

‘Fuck me please, god I need you in me’ you say breathing heavily, as if trying to understand how you were coping with two orgasms in one go. You said you needed me. Kissing you one more time, I finally unzipped my pants, releasing the solid member that sprung against my lower abdomen. As I removed my sweater, your eyes were staring at the red tip whereas your licked your bottom lip.

‘I’m going to enter alright,’ I whispered beside your ear, peppering feather-like kisses on your face. You froze a bit in place, though I was not exactly sure why. You did not seem to say anything, but it may be because you are finally being with the man who truly deserves you. Placing myself on your dripping hole, I looked at you one last time before anything else goes wrong, or if I miscalculated everything.

‘Just put it in Yuta, I’m on birth control, no need to worry’ you impatiently said, waiting to be filled and feel immense pleasure. Taking in your words, I slowly pushed myself in you, trying my best not to hurt you or bring you to any sort of pain. But my god, were you tight. Your velvet-like walls enclosed around my hard cock, almost impossible for me to go further in. You gasped loudly, pulling yourself closer to me as you held your hands behind my neck, feeling every once of me. ‘Oh my fucking god, I’m so full.’

I pushed myself further with one of my hands on your lower abdomen to keep you stable. ‘Shit you’re so tight, stop me if I go to harsh on—‘

‘Just fuck me Yuta, I don’t want to go gentle, please just do it.’ What?

*Disclaimer: smut scene has ended.

‘Y/n how else will I make love to you if you want to go rough on our first time?’ I asked, trying my best not to lose my temper. Why on earth do you want to go rough? Isn’t that why the reason you rejected all of those guys so that you can finally be with the one that truly deserves you, and can protect you from anything? Your eyes only grew wide at what I said, slowly pushing yourself off me.

‘Make love? Yuta, we’ve only started talking for like two months, what do you mean make love?’ You asked, successfully pushing yourself off of me, slowly pulling the blanket to cover yourself. Why are you acting like this?

‘You kissed me on your newly made bed, what else was I suppose to thi—‘

‘I was only asking for a quick fuck, not a whole love-making session Yuta. I think you should go home and rethink what you just said, I don’t think you’re in your right mind right now.’ How can you say that? I have loved you since you entered the class with, asking thought provoking questions to the professor. I have loved you since you were at the lab, working on your experiment until eight in the evening. I have loved you since you helped that customer in your shop many months ago, trying your best to communicate with the old woman in her mother tongue. You were always so patient, hard-working, and submissive— how can I not love you?

‘No! I do mean it, I do love you. How can I not? You always work so hard and made sure that you and your brother, and your academics were both in good condition. You are my dream, how can I not love you?’

‘Yuta, you’re saying the most insane shit. Please leave. What happens between me and my brother and my studies only should be limited to me, and not you’ you answered, not believing any word I said.

‘I am being normal, you’re just too busy and stubborn to believe anything I am saying! I have taken so much good care of you. I helped you get a job, I paid for all the meals and snacks we had together, I helped make your fucking bed, and you repay me by being your fuck buddy?’ You were infuriating. You were not like this when I watched you on a daily basis.

‘Well I’m sorry if you thought that I was trying to make you as my boyfriend or something, but I do not have time for that Yuta. I am truly sorry if that is what you thought, and if you do not want to see me anymore, I completely understand that—‘

‘No! You rejected Kim Yugyeom, Park Jimin, Kim Jungwoo, Bang Chan, Yoo Jeongyeon, and you do not let anyone else to love you. Is it because you’re too busy taking care of your drug addict of a brother?’ Your eyes grew wider than it already was, your mouth left agape unsure of how to react. Shit.

‘H-how do you know all of t-these things?’ Your voice was shaking, the fear on your face clearly visibly.

‘That’s not m-my point. What I am trying to say is—‘

‘Yuta, have you been stalking me?’ Yes, I have.

‘What? No, I wasn’t. You’re dodging my question again.’ Shit, Yuta. Think, think, think.

‘Then how do you know about my brother?’ You asked, fear and shock still evident on that beautiful face of yours. I made my way to her, gently cupping your face in my hand.

‘I h-heard about it from s-somewhere—‘

‘Get your hands off me! Tell me how you know all about this!’ You shouted, ripping my hands off of you. Without thinking, my hand came in contact with your skin. Loudly.

I slapped you.

A bright red mark was left on your face, eyes filled with tears, unsure if it was from the pain, or from our argument.

‘Shit, no, I didn’t mean that. Fuck, okay, y/n, let’s talk about this like adults’ I said, trying my best to diverge her thoughts away from what just happened. But I know that it will not work, you are one of the smartest people to exist, and you do not let yourself down easily like that.

‘Get the fuck out Yuta. You’re insane.’ Why are you not listening to me? I grabbed your body, leaving you to scream for help, pleading to be freed away from me— but I am not letting that happen. You are mine. I tightly wrapped my hand against your throat to make you shut up, making sure that you listen and concentrate on every word that I will say to you. You need to be disciplined love, especially if we will be together.

‘I need to know why you’re acting like this otherwise we will not be a happy couple. You are my everything, and I should be yours. I made you enter a world of euphoria with my mouth alone just a few moments ago, and you rejecting my love and pushing me away will not work. I have loved you the moment my eyes laid on you, and I need you to love me back’ I explained, watching your face slowly lose colour as your screams died down, but I do not care. You need to listen to my every word and acknowledge it. ‘You will be my partner for the rest of your life, and so will I. We will have two beautiful daughters, and you will also be able to help Lucas medically without letting your father know. But before we can do any of that, you need to be disciplined and I am here for that. Do you understand me?’

No response.

‘I said do you understand me.’

Still no response.

Your face was pale, eyes were closed, body cold. You were lifeless. Y/n, we were supposed to be together forever. We were supposed to have children, have you become a pharmacist, we were supposed to be in love together. Holding your lifeless body in my arms, I rocked your bare body back and forth— you’re not dead my love, you’re just resting. Yes, you’re resting.

‘Y-you’re not dead. I was just teaching you a lesson, but you seemed to become tired. It’s okay, we’ll do it another time. I love you so so much, I will never hurt you my love. Never.’ A dark laugh left my throat as tears rolled down my face. I finally had you in my arms, finally.

a/n: WEEEEEE i wrote that???? okay umm while i’ll be too busy screaming at myself for writing THAT scene, i hope everyone enjoyed it despite the fact that mcfucking yuta was a creep, but yeAhhhH. i am honestly quite paranoid after finishing ‘you’ cause i keep thinking that someone is in the house, but not really, but yeah... the show was good though. let me know if you also watched it cause i would really like to talk about it with you. and also, HAPPY NEW YEAR! i hope ya’ll had a fun time celebrating it.

明けましておめでとうございます！今年もよろしくお願いします。今まで英語だけで話を作ったので、今年日本語でやってみたいと思います。

祝你新年快乐！万事如意也心想事成❤️

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carriagelamp · 4 years

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September Book Roundup, back-to-school edition aka The Season Of Red apparently?

Here is a selection of the books I’ve read this month. Summer is over, so the little bit of brain power I had managed to scrape together is quickly disintegrating, so enjoying the hodge podge of stories.

Binti

This was probably my favourite book that I read this month. It’s a novella I first heard about hear on tumblr and went to find a copy in my library. I have since bought the collected trilogy so I can read book two and three at my leisure because it was honestly just that friggin cool. This is exactly my flavour of scifi and I tend to be very very picky about the scifi I consume. It’s about a girl named Binti, a member of the Himba people (a real group of indigenous people from Namibia). They are a people well known for their mathematical and technical prowess, but due to their strong connection to their homeland and the earth they choose not to travel through space like so many other humans do. However, when Binti secures a position at Oomza University, the greatest university in the galaxy, she chooses to go against her family’s wishes and traditions in order to set out into space to attend. Everything is ruined though when her spaceship is attacked by a hostile alien race and everyone is killed but Binti, who must rely on all her intellect and abilities if she wants any chance at survival.

A seriously cool book with great world building – it really successfully introduces readers not only to the fictional scifi world and races of the novel but also to the culture and traditions of the Himba people. It’s a quick read, and feels like a cross between Dead Space and Tamora Pierce. Would totally recommend a read.

Fake Blood

A Canadian graphic novel. It was a goofy cute read. It’s about an awkward group of friends in middle school, and one boy with a crush on one of the girls in his class. Knowing her love for vampire stories, AJ decides, like any self-respecting middle schooler, to try to pretend he’s a vampire. Naturally nothing goes right and some things go wrong in unexpected ways. It’s funny and cute. Nothing amazing but it was a cozy evening read.

The Last Book On The Left

I’ve been listening to this podcast a lot since my friend recommended it to me and finally decided to read their book. For those that don’t know, The Last Podcast On The Left is a immaculately researched comedy podcast that’s hosted by Ben Kissel, Marcus Parks, and Henry Zebrowski, and explores the darker realms of human nature. Ghosts, paranormal, aliens, cults, and of course serial killers. In this book they collected several of their biggest name serial killer series, did some renewed research, and put together a book that is both informative, irreverent, gross, and very funny, complete with some really amazing illustrations by Tom Neely. A very cool read (and listen, if you decide to check out the podcast instead), I really love how they tell these stories without idolizing or romanticizing the people they talk about. Their humour always makes sure you know exactly how much of a pathetic loser these people are. Fantastic true crime, from someone who has never really felt the need to read about true crime before.

Midnight Sun

I won’t harp on this one, everyone is already going to firmly have their opinions here. I grew up on Twilight, I was reading them as they came out, and I still love them. Were they dumb? Oh my god yes. Did they have problems? Sure, they came out in 2005 it was part and parcel. Were they also a really fun for a thirteen year old to read? Absolutely, I don’t regret it. Sometimes teenage girls should just to get like things without being mocked.

Anyway, I am off my soapbox now (can you tell this is still a raw spot for me?) I unironically loved this book! Getting to see Edward’s perspective was really cool, and since he can read minds it essentially let you get the perspective of everyone else around him too. The Cullens family is a great set of characters so it was really cool to see more of them, and I was very impressed by how Stephenie Meyers took a YA romance she wrote in 2005 and was able to make it feel updated and more appropriate for a 2020 audience even though she couldn’t actually change any of the events themselves. So fans of Twilight, don’t be ashamed, go read Midnight Sun and have the shameless fun you deserve. Is there anymore appropriate book for the bizarre ass year that was 2020 than a return to this goofy nonsense?

The Paperbag Princess

(and Up, Up, Down, and Robert Munsch in general)

I’m back in schools so I’m back to reading children’s book! And honestly, and of you that don’t occasionally sit down and read a kids book out loud don’t know what you’re missing. Anyway, Robert Munsch is a Canadian author, and one of my all-time favourite children’s authors. It surprised me to learn he isn’t as well known in the States apparently? I don’t know if that’s changed or not, but he is a Canadian staple for a good reason, his books have ridiculous premises, are specifically written to be fun to read out loud, and have beautiful, involved, and hilarious illustrations. The Paperbag Princess is one of my absolute favourites, and as a kid it was one of the first stories I had ever read where a princess is the one saving the prince… and then telling the prince to piss off when it turns out he’s a jerk. Up, Up, Down is another favourite I reread this month, because it’s just hilarious funny and makes a fantastic read aloud with kids. Some other Robert Munsch I reread this month include: Mmm, Cookies, More Pies, Ribbon Rescue, Just One Goal, and Andrew’s Loose Tooth. You just cannot go wrong, for kids or adults.

Pit Pony

Another Canadian staple while I was growing up. If you’re a young adult know who went through the Canadian elementary school system, you probably had your entire heart ripped out and stepped on by this chapter book. It’s a historical fiction that looks at the economic hardship, debt slavery, child labour, and animal abuse that was tied to coal mining in the Maritimes. Finding a copy was harder than I would have expected give how pervasive it was a decade or so back, but reading it again was a pure shot of nostalgia.

Seeking Refuge

A graphic novel written by a German-born Canadian about a Jewish girl who flees Nazi-occupied Austria by way of Kindertransport to become a child refuge in England. It follows her as she is moved from host family to host family as the war continues to pick up and gradually makes it’s way to the United Kingdom as well. It’s very poignant and the pencil-sketch illustrations are an interesting change to a lot of the graphic novels that are out right now. This story is still aimed at a younger audience, so it never gets too brutal but it still is a hard hitting story, especially with everything else going on right now.

Silver Spoon #9/10

I know I’ve talked about these books before, but my library got some more since I last read them, so I’m continuing my way through the series. It’s about a teenaged boy who, after having a breakdown from the pressure he was feeling to study and succeeded, decided not to attend an academic, urban high school, but rather to apply for an agricultural high school so he could live in the dorms, far away from his parents. The series just gets more and more heartwarming as it continues. It’s all about failure and overcoming and how worth can be measured in different ways, and about family and understanding each other and coming together… but also about the realities of farming which aren’t always very nice, especially when it comes to finances and survival. It’s written by the mangaka behind Fullmetal Alchemist but I’ll be honest… I think I like this series more. It is honestly one of my all time favourite manga series, it just has so much heart.

Ruby Finds A Worry

aka Ruby’s Worry apparently? I can’t figure out why this has more than one title. I actually read it in French not English, so for me it was Le Souci de Calie. Regardless, this was a nice little picture book for talking about worries and anxieties with children… especially with the amount of Covid stress a lot of kids are dealing with. It explains in a really nice way how talking about anxieties are often the best way to make them more manageable, and how pretending nothing is wrong can just let it grow bigger and bigger. A good explanation for kids and possible a good reminder for adults.

War of the Realms: Journey Into Mystery

I read this because the Mcelroy family wrote it so I figured Hey! Why not give it a go! And I’m glad I did. Their brand of humour was all over it, and it made the story a delight to read. I don’t follow all of Marvel’s weirdness, so I didn’t actually know most of the characters (Miles and Kate were actually the only two I was familiar with) but they do a great job of introducing the characters and making them all feel distinct and interesting. I absolutely adore the Dog of Gods (God of Dogs) who is a very very good boy. And Miles is absolutely always a delight so you can’t really lose. It’s a single book that I think is a part of a larger plotline that I have zero interest in. This book is a fine one to read though if you don’t mind jumping into the middle of the action and just getting swept along for the ride. Also Mcelroys!

Witcher Omnibus

Bleh. Absolutely not worth it. All the misogyny and Dumb Bullshit that I hate in the original books and from video games in general. Honestly, Witcher III did way better by its characters than most of these short stories. The only one worth reading in it is Curse Of Crows – that one was actually really enjoyable, probably because it was about Ciri and had an actual fucking woman on the writing team. (Seriously guys what were you thinking with Fox Children that’s literally just a story from Season of Storms but done worse. Fuck off.) If you like The Witcher, go read Curse of Crows and skip every other story in this book.

Billy Stuart: Les Zintrépides #1

Another French (Quebecois) book I read, though I believe you can get it in English as well (Billy Stuart and the Zintrepids). It’s a chapter book / graphic novel hybrid, and was honestly a fairly fun little read. It’s in a similar vein to Geronimo Stilton but done much better in my opinion. The humour was funnier, the characters felt less like caricatures, and while it still used stylized fonts it was also less intrusive and eye-strainy than the Stilton books. Also when the story suddenly pivots into the main adventure and mystery of the series? Fantastic. Was not expecting a hell-beast to appear part way through the story. Very interested in reading more.

Over all, it was cute and funny, and I can see it being a good next step when children have read their fill of the Stilton series and want something similar but possibly a bit more involved and coherent.

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broken-academia · 3 years

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I find it interesting that when white supremacists quote the scripture and use it as justification, Christians tend to act like these white supremacists "somehow" got the wrong message, or "somehow" crept into Christian communities.

Yet the very ways they "somehow" got the message wrong keep happening over and over again, which suggest that it's not a simple misinterpretation, because it keeps happening.

The church laid the foundation for the enslavement of Africans and Native Americans, and even before that, the church layer the foundation for centuries of brutal colonization done worldwide.

If we even focus on just America for a bit, the Puritans came and based their ideology on the "New world", Catholic missonarie and preachers forcibly converted people to Catholicism and forced them to abandon their own beliefs.

These people talked about the equality of all men on God's eyes, yet kept child slaves.

Frederick Douglass, in the first of his three autobiographies, wrote what became of his master when he became a Christian believer. What Douglass hoped would happen is that his master became more "Humane". This did not happen.

Douglass wrote, “If it had any effect on his character, it made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways.” Auld was ostentatious about his piety—praying “morning, noon, and night,” participating in revivals, and opening his home to travelling preachers—but he used his faith as license to inflict pain and suffering upon his slaves. “I have seen him tie up a lame young woman, and whip her with a heavy cowskin upon her naked shoulders, causing the warm red blood to drip; and, in justification of the bloody deed, he would quote this passage of Scripture—‘He that knoweth his master’s will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes,’ ”

In the book, “White Too Long” (Simon & Schuster), Robert P. Jones, the head of the Public Religion Research Institute, a nonpartisan polling and research organization, marshals this and other data to lay out a startling case that “the more racist attitudes a person holds, the more likely he or she is to identify as a white Christian" and that "more than six in ten white Christians disagreed with the statement that “generations of slavery and discrimination have created conditions that make it difficult for blacks to work their way out of the lower class.”

So what does this say then? Because this is just a small small portion of white Christians making the same "misinterpretating the bible to justify racism" mistake.

I find it interesting the way you phrase this rebuttal. It doesn’t make a differentiation between Christian sects, which is extremely important when considering the theological ramifications of a religion on a culture. it also makes generalizations, which I won’t fault you for any more than simply pointing them out.

so just a reminder: I’m a Christian Catholic. I don’t speak for protestants, and especially not Puritans (ew).

“Christian” here is a very broad term, and I think it’s important to mention that Protestantism would be the correct term here. Ignoring the differences leads to generalizations that ignore the immense prejudice faced by Irish Catholics especially that only started to alleviate in the 1940s. The Nativism movement is a prime example of this prejudice. In studies of prejudice, you must separate Protestant sects and Catholicism, at the cost of academic integrity.

Take for example The Five Points:

“The Five Points was named after the intersection of five streets, and it was the one of the first black settlements post-emancipation years. Located within the Sixth Ward, it played a unique role in the interracial tensions, due to the high rate of prostitution and crime that occurred there.

After the mid-1840s, the Sixth Ward itself became known as the ‘Irish ward’ because of the high number of Irish immigrants who settled in Five Points. Because they too were outcasts of society, they went to the same residences the black New Yorkers did, changing what were previously exclusively black social spaces. Irish experienced a form of prejudice similar, but not entirely alike, to the black New Yorkers, being called derogatory names and being given the worst of the labor. It was with these connections that black New Yorkers and Irish settlers shared geographic, social, economic, and cultural space during the 1840s and 1850s in New York City.” - precis of ‘In the Shadow of Slavery’ by Leslie Harris

so in New York at least, the prejudice doesn’t seem to lessen when everyone’s ‘Christian’.

“In 1848, the Ladies’ Home Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church moved to Five Points to create a new city mission. Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, a historian, shows that the hiring of Louis M. Pease led their first mission. Both this effort and that of the Home itself were relatively popular in Five Points. The effect was not always positive, with missionaries removing children often the influence of ‘immoral’ parents forcefully.” (ibid)

That’s Episcopalian, right? What does the Catholic church say about that?

“The family must be helped and defended by appropriate social measures. Where families cannot fulfill their responsibilities, other social bodies have the duty of helping them and of supporting the institution of the family. Following the principle of subsidiarity, larger communities should take care not to usurp the family's prerogatives or interfere in its life. “ - CCC 2209

When Catholic missionaries unjustly took children from Native American families, that was wrong. To say it isn’t is to deny Church teachings.

Yet the very ways they "somehow" got the message wrong keep happening over and over again, which suggest that it's not a simple misinterpretation, because it keeps happening.

Very big generalization here, and your conclusions does’t follow your inference. First, ‘the very ways’ is extremely vague, but I’ll leave that alone, because this is Tumblr. Not every sentence or argument is perfect. “it keeps happening” can be blamed not on Church teachings themselves, but rather human nature. Also, ‘misinterpretation’ is the entire point of Protestantism even existing, which, in combination with your other generalizations, tell me that you don’t really know the way Catholic interpretation of Scripture works. One of the main reasons Protestantism even happened was because of the personal interpretation of Church teachings and Scripture.

The church laid the foundation for the enslavement of Africans and Native Americans, and even before that, the church layer the foundation for centuries of brutal colonization done worldwide.

If we even focus on just America for a bit, the Puritans came and based their ideology on the "New world", Catholic missionaries and preachers forcibly converted people to Catholicism and forced them to abandon their own beliefs.

You didn’t read my response if you’re replying with that about African slavery, because it simply historically wrong. In regards to the wrongs done against the Native Americans, I agree it was wrong, and it’s been condemned by the Church. It’s infantilizing an entire culture to presume such simplicity, but that’s beside the point. “Forced them to abandon their own beliefs” really doesn’t take into account the reason why Catholicism is so appealing to different cultures. Forceful baptisms don’t even work, and we don’t condone forceful conversions. Invalid and illicit according to church theology. Protestantism differs, because we’re different things.

These people talked about the equality of all men on God's eyes, yet kept child slaves.

Protestantism was an important part of the culture in the Douglass’ time, and obviously the master was a terrible man. I’ve read Frederick Douglass (minor in African-American studies does that to a person) and I know the kind of man his master was. He was thoroughly not a Christian, and if he’d even been a Catholic, he would have been automatically excommunicated. Because the Pope had put an immediate excommunication on any slave-owners. And Protestantism and Catholicism are different.

“the more racist attitudes a person holds, the more likely he or she is to identify as a white Christian" and that "more than six in ten white Christians disagreed with the statement that “generations of slavery and discrimination have created conditions that make it difficult for blacks to work their way out of the lower class.”

and 30% of ‘practising’ Catholics believe in transubstantiation. The question here is not what the members of the faith believe, but what Divine theology says. Catholicism has repeatedly disavowed racism, bigotry, and prejudice. An action to the contrary is against Church teachings.

So what does this say then? Because this is just a small portion of white Christians making the same "misinterpretating the bible to justify racism" mistake.

“white Christians” jeez, the sheer academic dishonesty. An important part of history is understanding how prejudice originates. so many historians talk about this (I personally like Morgan’s theory of the ‘visible outsider’ for the cause of racism but) and to ignore class, culture divide, socio-economic status, and substantiate an entire claim based upon race is very fundamentalist (the irony).

I could say so much more about this, but honestly, we both know neither of us are going to change our minds. You have something to prove, so I’m sorry history disagrees with you. if you want to believe Catholicism upholds white supremacy, nothing I can say will change your mind. I won’t be responding to anymore of your anons.

#asks #ask #will probably delete this one because nothing of much value is discussed #long #catholic #2021

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theelliottsmiths · 4 years

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Could you please liveblog the making of Amerika?

Yes

I'm anticipating complaining about the penis zip guy already

Did you know that for a long time as a child I thought the English version was the real version? Cause I did

The bit where they're putting the paint on their faces is weirdly cute even though Richard looks kind of silly

Flake grow out your long hair pleaseee just like. A cute little bob again. I would listen to him talk for hours honestly I like the way he pronounced the words and his tone language doesn't matter

You can always tell by how he holds his face vs his eyes when he's joking "that's what this song is for: to sneak ourselves into their hearts" i feel like they have done that pretty well. For some reason it seems like most of the American fans are from the Midwest but maybe that's just coincidence

Rammstein saying they have no message except "Fleisch, Fleisch" or "ja" or "ich will" I forgot this entire thing is ceaseless dunking and sarcasm

i like the sounds he makes like the. There's a name for them what is it. The noises you make between words for emphasis etc? Those

"America was so fucking annoying we felt the need to call them out on it"

Oli talks a little like he's trying not to yawn. Them saying the war was on while they were in the practice room is strange considering how long the various wars had been going on just from like a born in the late 90s living in 2020 perspective

Ah yes you really were. So subtle. It's very. Clever many double meanings

"sehr gut, Till". :).

The sehnsucht thing tickles me so much he starts off by saying yes it's better to leave things up for interpretation and naturally my brain assumes he means the well thought out probably not true but poetic stuff, right, and then he goes on to say Americans thought sehnsucht was chainsaw and I cannot

The knife also is good.

In a way Amerika as a video is a precursor Ausländer and I like seeing how it compares because its

AS I WAS TYPING THAT OLI SAID THE WORD AUSLÄNDER

Oli does not seem happy to have his words captured At All

I wonder how many people did the Deutschland thing and went straight to saying it's racist without thinking through the reasons behind what they were doing (at least in part criticising American racism) I'm pretty sure l've seen someone complain about it somewhere like it was serious, I think on Reddit around the time the Ausländer Making of came out? Which is why I bring it up

"we wanted to make it clear that it wasn't a love song so these lyrics are perfect" Till: literally just saying this is not a love song

I would like to see them perform a cheer in proper cheerleader costumes instead of the uncomfy stickman Deutschland dance that makes me cringe my skeleton right out of my skin in 2021 please

The juxtaposition of Richards pro-america comments and flakes sarky comments about how nice the urinals are is so reminiscent of that post that's like America where freedom is the choice between thirty kinds of bread that you can't afford to buy

I was going to make a Regan's grave joke but I do prefer to keep that one for Margaret Thatchers grave

I like schneiders hair at this length

Schneiders capacity to oscillate so wildly between being a vacant dumbass and saying intelligent and thought out things is ceaselessly amazing

Saying it's hard because "it's like a punk concert for them" Jörn my guy my dude almost all of them were in punk bands I just checked and this was 2004 Feeling b only broke up in the 90s do you literally just mean Oli (I do not remember if there was any punk going on in the Inchtabokatables) or

Schneider is making it look so easy was he truly just so -_- about feeling b that he can be completely calm in the face drumming that fast? Cause we know usually his fast drumming involves screaming faces and or actual screaming I swear he does and it's just not hearable under the music sidenote he sings along sometimes and if he does it out loud I NEED to hear it

Richard when it's slowed down looks uh. Looks like he's eh. Hm. Is that the real reason people are so into guitarists?

I don't know which part of the sentence Glasses Paul says in that louder voice (schossen? Is he saying that/shot?) but I do like it if I knew more German I would take on way more Rammstein things as echoes you have no idea how much time I spend saying es reicht wenn hier so 'nen fleischfarbenen Draht lang legst which If that's wrong it's exactly what I was told he said so please correct it but it's not my fault unless you consider it my fault for not knowing enough German in which case it is my fault

But anyway yes hes Talking like its a museum tour and in his little glasses and shirt and everything he is totally playing the part of unhinged historian which is the best kind of historian honestly if you're going to be academic in nature you might as well be fucking mental

I want to know what vibes his speech gives off in German because to me he in English and German seems very theatrical in the way he talks? Including how much he rolls his rs it's very... Showy? But maybe not actually?

I forget how many videos Jörn has shot with them honestly

What do you do with this ash sand once your finished with? Some of them had kids I'd have taken it home and pretended it was real moon dust or something

They really go for it when they decide to do something like this and it really is admirable. It's rare they'll half-ass something and even when if feels like their director has they don't themselves

Richard looks very handsome in his space suit before they hang him up

Pretti

He looks like a marionette now nevermind

THIS FUCKER

I just. Do. Not. Enjoy this man I'm sorry to you and the mullet man I'm sure he's great but for fucks SAKE man he

TILL LITERALLY SAYS DONALD SUTHERLAND POINTS TO HIS DICK AND MIMES ZIPPING YOU KNOW WHAT HE'S FUCKING TALKING ABOUT SO WHY DO YOU LOOK SO CONFUSED

YOU TOLD HIM THE STORY YOU KNOW WHY HES SAYING DONALD SUTHERLAND AND POINTING TO HIS PENIS WHY ARE YOU SO GORMLESS

Look. I have nothing against Americans individually B is American Nick is American i love them dearly i know also other Americans a lot of you guys are Americans and I love you lots but here's the thing why are Americans like this

If it's not in English the brain turns off even if the context is obvious it's like when English people see Welsh/English signs and are so anti-welsh that they don't acknowledge that they're also in English and get angry that they don't know where they are

The sweetest little face though!

Softest boy ever besides Rosenrot Till

Till gets bored of the guy and decides to tell a story about a dick it's very him

This is the hair I think of when I think of Till this is the quintessential till haircut no?

God I do dislike this man

Tills voice is so so high here I adore him so completely it's so soft and high and the song is Not

If you're trying to learn how to say L sounds like a German I feel like richard is the easiest one to copy? Unless they're all weirdos and no other German says L sounds like that. Him and flake.

Flakes smile is more cheerful than Paul's there I said it

I know it's not foreshadowing but Jörn foreshadowing Ausländer

Richard talking about America's tendancy to exaggerate is really interesting since that's something the community as a whole seems to agree is a personality trait of his. They didn't fight, they almost broke up. He hates touring and yet he loves touring. Is that why he likes it there or is living there why he's like that?

Can you casually buy ten litres of orange juice? The boys are busy they cannot confirm and Google does not understand what I'm asking

Yeah Richard and Till, get closer

Knife

Schneiders handprint

I forgot about "there was a rumour in the DDR that America didn't exist" what is it with Germany and conspiracies about places not existing I'm there are tears in my eyes I genuinely I never watch this one flake is so fucking funny

Till talking pictures of the others

It's better than I give it credit for in my memory is there anything they've made that is in not a single way entertaining? I feel like no

Thank you for asking for this one it was every fun actually

#me rambling #rammstein #liveblog #amerika #complete liveblog

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mizeliza · 4 years

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So, I’m reading Jane Eyre for a class and was wondering why you like the novel? Currently, I’m struggling to get through it, finding the language to be almost disorienting and alienating and Rochester to be unlike able.

You’ve opened a can of worms here because I truly do love Jane Eyre but I am also painfully aware that it is my problematic fave - there are a lot of things that are morally unacceptable by today’s standards in it and yet. And yet.

I’ve tried to mostly keep this spoiler free, because you seem to be in the middle of the book, but the book has been out for 173 years, and many of the things I have say have to do directly with it’s major plot points and eventual ending. For the most part I’ve tried to be vague, but that isn’t always possible, if you care about spoilers, consider yourself duly warned. And if anything is too vague and you need a better explanation with more details, feel free to message me or send in another ask! As you’re about to see I love talking about Jane Eyre lol

Addressing your issues first:

If the language doesn't work for you, unfortunately you’re just going to have to struggle through it. It’s old and that was the style. I first read Jane Eyre for my 11th grade English class and to this day all my friends from that class refer to long, long sentences as Charlotte Bronte sentences. I don’t mind them, but I am also prone to long, long sentences in both my personal and academic work so. But I can definitely see how that could be a barrier for people. If you don’t have to go too deep into annotations or tracking for the class, it’s okay to skim a lot of the longer paragraphs in order to get to more of the action.

Rochester is very unlikeable, but I think that’s sort of the point, he’s one of the original brooding older men that don’t get on with anyone but that somehow has eyes for the young heroine - he sees in her what no one else does and falls in love with her for it. It’s a trope I associate a lot with 2000s/v early 2010s YA novels, and at this point it’s tired and admittedly creepy, but this was part of the origin of it, and I think that’s why it works for me.

Side note - If at the end of it you want to really hate Rochester, read Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, which is about colonialism and feminism and Bertha Mason and Rochester, during which he definitely comes off worse than in Jane Eyre and she gets to be more than the originator of a very different trope, but make sure to get a version with footnotes or you will be very lost

There are a ton of other problems with it, which I won’t go into, simply because it would take lots of time and lots of space and that isn’t what you asked for.

So back to why I love Jane Eyre:

I once saw it described as the first YA novel and I think that’s a pretty succinct way of looking at it. It’s definitely a coming of age story - from Jane escaping her abusive family members to an even worse boarding school, to her entering into the wider world for the first time, eventually leaving even though she’s in love because she refuses to compromise her morals - more on that later, getting to explore herself and her purpose in life outside of having to worry about her physical, mental, or moral survival, standing up for herself and again refusing to compromise her beliefs, and then, finally, upon realizing what she really wants in life - with the obstacles conveniently removed by fate - she returns on her own terms and gets to live happily ever after. Upon first reading it, as I mentioned above with Rochester, I noticed a lot of aspects that were very familiar to me - several of my annotations in the copy I read for school are just “wow this is just like in harry potter” - but again, they were new at the time. Anyway I just love narratives of women growing up and discovering themselves and chasing after what they want, I just think they’re neat.

I much prefer the first half? 2/3? of the book, up until she leaves Rochester and goes walking across the moors (so dramatic! and yet, what an absolute mood, if I had a moor to wander across in a forlorn state after leaving the person I love because I refused to compromise myself for them I would also go for it and end up half-dead on the doorstep of strangers) than afterwards, when she’s living with the Riverses, simply because I find them boring, especially St. John (whose name is pronounced Sinjin, which infuriated half my English class). Even though I am too afraid to watch or read true horror, I love the concept of a good ambiguously haunted isolated gothic mansion, and Jane Eyre delivers that.

Which brings me to one of my favorite things about the book, I gave a presentation on it in my English class, which I am now realizing was four years ago which is terrifying, what I call the “almost supernatural.” Jane Eyre is filled with things that could be supernatural that aren’t - the Red Room, where Jane is filled with fear at the thought of a ghost, when she first meets Rochester and at first mistakes Pilot the dog for a gytrash, then thinking the house is haunted when strange things start happening, when it turns out to have been a person all along, if not the one everyone told her it was, and even arguably Jane herself, who Rochester refers to as a fairy multiple times. She wants so badly to believe in the supernatural, and strange and interesting things keep happening around her, and even though they’re terrifying, I’ve always gotten sort of an air of disappointment from her when it’s revealed that they’re just normal things. And then, at the very end of the book, something supernatural actually does happen to her, and it’s glossed over like the fact that what happens is physically impossible doesn’t even matter to her, after wanting things to be supernatural the whole book, because she finally knows what she really wants and has the capacity to chase after it.

Finally, I will always take the chance to talk about how I think Jane Eyre is a feminist narrative, and am always willing to argue my point.

By the middle of the book, Jane is in love with Rochester, and he is in love with her, he’s proposed and��they’re somewhat happy together, but the situation always feels a bit off to Jane. She still doesn’t really value herself at this point, and he wants to give her nice and expensive things, and she also still feels the power dynamic - she’s an 18-year-old, possibly 19-year-old at this point? I don’t remember all the dates/times, adult but v young, governess and he’s her what, mid thirties at the youngest? rich, land-owning employer. There’s a huge power dynamic there on multiple levels, and unlike earlier, during their talks in the library where she openly calls him ugly and teases him back, at this point because of the changed social dynamic between them because of their engagement and her feelings of inadequacy because of their positions in society, made very clear by Miss Blanche Ingram (another trope that Jane Eyre helped make popular - the single father marrying the governess), Jane no longer feels like she can criticize him. While before, especially while alone, they were on more or less equal footing, she is now all too aware of how unequal they are and she shrinks a bit because of it. Somewhat ironically, Jane has very little agency between her assertion of her agency - “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will” - and her leaving Rochester, during that time she basically lets things happen to her while being somewhat bewildered about them.

And then. And then the truth about Rochester and Thornfield is revealed, and they can no longer be married. And he offers to go away with her, to where no one knows them, to live in sin as husband and wife even though they can’t be actually married. And Jane sticks to her principles. She believes that that’s wrong and she refuses, and rather than be tortured by either the betrayal of her principles or the knowledge that he’s there and loves her and she can’t have him, she leaves. She takes only what she already owned, leaving behind everything he gave her. She finally exerts her agency again, and from then on, she keeps exerting it.

While with the Riverses, she makes her own choices, and her own money, and again refuses a marriage that she feels isn’t right and that doesn't align with her beliefs - this time, she chooses not to marry because neither of them are in love. She rejects what St. John sees as her duty, including what can be seen as rejecting a closer relationship to god and god’s work, when god was the reason for her rejection of Rochester in the first place. Even though I think this part of the book is the most boring, Jane stands up for herself a lot more here, and she asserts herself as a person who values herself, and maybe I should reread it lol. And then, after refusing St. John and asserting her value outside of marriage, and with herself now financially secure and able to be on equal footing, socially, financially, romantically, with Rochester, then she returns to him so that they can have an equal relationship - which it would not have been before.

I hope this was satisfying to you, even though (like Jane Eyre) it is very long and somewhat rambley, and I hope that I manage to improve your experience of the book! Please feel free to send me any responses or other commentary that you have because as shown I really do love to talk about it :)

#else speaks #else answers #anonymous #Jane eyre #charlotte bronte

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phcking-detective · 4 years

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Find Familiar, ch 1/2

Nines casts the spell and feels the magic pull from their soul. They need this to work. They don’t know what else to do.

They hear nothing, but perhaps the animal is simply quiet. The summon circle contains a perch and a large bathtub, painstakingly levitated all the way to the highest floor of their tower. Even a small area filled with sand. Just in case.

A wizard never knows what form their familiar will take until they summon it.

Nines doesn’t dare open their eyes. They need this to work. They are the most brilliant wizard of their generation and likely several before and after as well, but their brilliance is purely academic. All magic comes with a price, of course. That is why they’re ... like this.

Why bright lights give them migraines, and they cannot stand to be touched, and can only wear certain fabrics, eat certain foods, sleep under EXACT conditions. Why they can understand ancient languages and cursed tomes better than they ever could read a face.

It is their Price, and they need--

Nines opens their eyes and stares resolutely at the empty summoning circle. The spell had worked. They felt it take their energy and a piece of their soul. It had cast.

But out of all the beings on this plane and sixteen others, none had answered.

Very well. They don’t need help. They never have.

A first child for inheritance, a second for insurance. A third for luck, a fourth for the middle. Fifth for work, sixth for status. Seventh to fulfill a prophecy.

And an eighth child to be tithed. Two parents, presumably, and the eighth made exactly ten, one-tenth of the family and all they owned given to the church so that they gods would look favorably upon them.

There was no point in a child after that. No prophecies or tithing, and certainly no inheritance left over after carving it up for seven others first. No one ever needed a ninth child.

And Nines has never needed anyone else.

***

Three days and nights after casting the spell, Nines has eaten few enough meals to count on one hand. The sand has not been swept from the floor, and they have not managed to drag themself from their studies long enough to utilize the bathtub for its actual purpose.

But they’re fine.

It’s fine.

They are the greatest wizard of his generation, and they will ... survive. Perhaps not live, not as others do, not in happiness. But they are not dead yet and he has no less than twenty-two contingency spells if death does dare

KNOCK

Nines looks up from their manuscript for the first time in so many hours, they don’t know if the sun is setting or rising. The crystal ball embedded above the door glows green. Someone just solved their first riddle.

Well. Surely the second will

DOOR

Nines stands, then almost collapses from the black spots overtaking their vision. That was too fast. No one should have been able to solve the second riddle that quickly.

MAT

Nines draws their wand and faces the door as the third and final crystal ball lights green.

Knock knock knock.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, asshole!”

... what? They must be dreaming. Yes, an unexpected social visit from a villager capable of bypassing all his wards is surely the stuff of nightmares.

“Either let me in or shut the fuck up!”

The indignity of being accused of speaking when Nines hates speaking, particularly to “people,” infuriates them enough that they forget their wand entirely and throws open the door to berate the--

The much smaller man glaring up at them.

Not small enough to be a dwarf, although he certainly has that ... stockiness. Perhaps a mixture of human and dwarf, but. Even half-dwarves have beards, while this man just has some rather scruffy stubble and a scar across the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t smell right,” the man informs them.

He shoulder-checks past Nines before they can respond. It’s only due to their momentary bout of dizziness that they don’t smite him immediately for that. Or when he circles around the large living area, sniffing at things like a dog.

“Should’ve expected it to be bigger in here than out there,” he says to himself. “Still kind of small though.”

“I do not receive visitors,” Nines replies as coldly as they can manage.

They have accidentally frozen people before, simply with the freezing burn of their anger, yet their magic lays calm and docile inside their chest.

“Good, I fucking hate people,” the man says.

Nines makes some sort of very undignified noise in the back of their throat at that. The man continues wandering about their space, finally sticking his entire head inside their cauldron.

They’re hallucinating. That last alchemical potion must have--

“Don’t you have any cooking pots?” he asks.

Nines doesn’t answer so they don’t have to admit the answer is no. They will not be judged by some--some vagabond, a dirty ugly little man who is--IS BAREFOOT?

“You don’t have shoes,” Nines says, as if that is the important part about a strange man breaking into their home.

“I wiped my feet, fuck off.”

Nines looks back toward the door. All three crystals glow a fading green as the wards slowly reset themselves.

They did not originally mean to bar all the villagers from visiting them forever. They simply wanted any guests to have basic manners. Knock on the door at the first floor before entering, close it behind them so leaves didn’t blow into the stairwell, and wipe their feet on the mat at the top.

Clearly, Nines had expected far too much of the general public.

Nines turns back to see the man filling their alchemy cauldron with water. Although they sterilize it thoroughly after each use in order to prevent cross-contamination among potions, they scrounge up enough hope past the exhaustion to ponder if maybe they had forgotten to do so in the haze of the last several days.

Unfortunately, the man’s flesh does not melt from his skin as he scrubs it out with a rag.

“What are you doing?” Nines asks.

“I’m hungry and you don’t have anything else to cook in,” the man says. “At least we’ll have leftov--”

“Get out of my tower!”

The man looks up and scowls at them. “You’re the one who kept fucking calling me, bitch. Make up your damn mind.”

The realization leaves them light-headed.

“I ... I didn’t ...”

The black spots creep back again, except now they can no longer accurately be called “spots.” They take up far too much of Nines’s vision for that, then consume it entirely.

Something warm and solid catches Nines before they fall. Their hands grab at whatever they can reach out of an instinctive need to hold onto something--fabric, skin, fur. Fur? Not quite. Hair, maybe. Very thick hair. Dwarf beard? No, only stubble. But very thick hair somewhere, somewhere, oh in the middle. His ... chest?

“Ow, quit pulling on that.”

“Furry,” Nines says, because they are very intelligent and also the greatest wizard of their generation.

“Yeah, moon’s close to full. Damn, you’re a gangly bitch, aren’t you? Where’s your fucking body fat, you need to eat more.”

Nines mumbles his very clever retort into his pillows. Oh, his pillows. They’re in bed. That’s nice. Their bed is soft and warm and good.

The other Warm Good thing wrapped around them lets go.

“Nooo.”

Nines pulls it back. Furrier now. They’d secretly wished for a dog. Obviously, a feline familiar would have been more practical, and certainly more in line with their introverted tendencies. Dogs need too much attention, and walks, and they drool and shed. Cats only do one of those things, and if they summoned a black one, the hair would just blend into their robes anyway.

But still. Some part of them had hoped ...

“All right, fine. Fucking bossy. Scoot over, bitch.”

The Warm Good thing piles into the bed with Nines, but there is still entirely too much skin. Nines does not go to bed with people. Certainly not with skin showing. They want--they need--

They want a dog.

They need a person.

Of course. A fully animal familiar could only do so much for them without thumbs, and monkeys are horrendous. Only a real person would be smart enough to take care of them the way they need it.

But a person-familiar ... unheard of. Impossible. No one had ever summoned a human before, and it would be grossly unethical regardless.

Nines crows with the proof that they really are the greatest wizard of their generation, and likely several before and after.

“OK, so you’re good with me being a werewolf, right? Because if you start crying about a monster and get a bunch of pitchforks up in here, I’m pissing on all your robes.”

A werewolf. Half man, half wolf. Brilliant!

“So. What’s your name?”

“Nines.”

“Fuck, humans are still doing that? Your litters are bigger than ours, goddamn. And popping them out one at a time like that?”

The werewolf shudders. Nines pets over them, much more fur than skin now.

“Was two of us,” they say, all filter gone with how tired they are. “Twins instead of just the last eighth. Connor, Connor was ... just ... a second quicker.”

“What, so they threw you away?” he asks, the question nearly a growl.

“Tech,,nicaaally,” Nines slurs. “They did him too. Gave him. Away. Just, pretended to love him first. It’s, s’crueler. I think. At least I, ahhhhh. I always knew.”

“Phckin’ hue-mens,” the werewolf growls.

“Mmhmm.”

“Miiine.”

That is the last word he can growl out before the transformation completes. Then Nines receives the dog they wanted. Like this, it is far easier to feel their familiar’s mind at the edge of their own, to recognize the bond for what it is.

Good boy, [name].

It’s Gavin, dickhead.

Adequate boy, Gavin.

The wolf huffs. Go to sleep. I’ll feed you soup in the morning and maybe you won’t be so hangry.

I only want potatoes and carrots. NO celery.

Go the fuck to SLEEP.

Nines does so.

The wolf licks their face only after he’s absolutely certain they’re unconscious. The dumb human just smells dehydrated.

He didn’t want to come at first. Didn’t understand what the ache in his head was in the first place, or why he kept feeling hungry no matter how much he ate or that he had to pee for four hours straight.

Just that he needed to go, go this way, this way, this way!

Fucking asshole wizard summoning him like he’s their goddamn dog.

(But it’s not like he has a pack of his own. Not like he has anything better to do. No one to protect or feed or cuddle.)

(And this human obviously needs his help.)

He’ll only stay for the moon, just so he has a safe place to sleep it off away from angry villagers convinced he’ll “deflower” their women--who already smell of sex by the way--even though he really prefers men.

And this one wizard, apparently.

Gavin licks Nines again. The human already smells way better with his scent on them, and this is the most luxurious bed he’s ever curled up in.

He can spend the night. Make some breakfast. He’s hungry, right? Wouldn’t make sense to leave a good meal behind.

Yeah, he’s just staying for the food.

***

One of my lovely followers recently commissioned a second chapter! It’s rated E for Explicit (sex scenes). Subscribers to my Patreon get early access to all my commissioned fics 2 weeks earlier than they’re posted to AO3 or tumblr ^^

#reed900 #gavin reed #dbh #dbh fanfic #reed900 fanfic #my writing

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nepheloma · 3 years

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inspired by this post that i reblogged yesterday, i really wanted to share a few of the thoughts i've been having recently regarding intelligence.

tl:dr;

intelligence is only judged by performance, which ignores how this performance is immediately dependent on socioeconomic status.

meritocracy as well as the concept of "geniuses" is a scam that perpetuates the status quo.

nobody should have to perform in a certain way in order for their life to have value.

to start with a disclaimer, i'm speaking only from experience -i'm not a psychologist, i'm not an expert on human behaviour. just a person who's been in the educational system for a long time, and who is mostly planning to stay inside of it.

i have always been a very good student, someone who would get extremely high grades and exceed most expectations around me. this labelled me as intelligent. and yes, i do believe that i'm a book smart person. at this point, in the past, i would have said something along the lines of "every person has a different kind of intelligence, it's not just being book smart that matters". but that mentality is bs: let me explain why.

in this system that we live in, quantifying intelligence, of any sort, has to do with performance. subconsciously, when we tell someone that, for example, their intelligence might have to do with art, we expect this to be judged by their artistic performance. if someone doesn't have something to show for their brains, we only tell them that they must have the potential to show something, and that they should work harder. while self-improvement is always a good thing -by all means, we should strive to be who we want to be- it shouldn't be considered necessary.

here's where intelligence goes wrong. first of all, living our lives performatively is the worst way to live them. it makes them devoid of any meaning, hanging on to other's opinions. and being intelligent is definitely judged by others, first and foremost. but most importantly, in order to perform adequately -be a good artist, a well-published scientist, an innovative engineer- is immediately dependent on socioeconomic status. I personally have been lucky enough to be born in a family that cared about me and was also able to financially support my education. I'm also high functioning -even at the times of my life when I was mentally unwell.

It's extremely sad how many people don't have that, but what's even sadder is that our society deems them responsible for this. one goes to university, and professors -who, most of them, as it has been shown, come mostly from academic backgrounds already- degrade them for having gaps in their knowledge, which couldn't possibly be filled if one has only been exposed to the public school system. people with access to capital start their own companies and buy their own houses at their early 20s and then call people who can't do that lazy. All these people perpetuate a myth of meritocracy to justify why they should have the wealth that they didn't earn themselves, and that most of the time is earned on the backs of other, less fortunate people, just like kings used to claim they were of godly ancestry to justify why they deserve to rule.

the concept of genius is another hoax that perpetuates the very same status quo. most people who get their info from the news will have been conditioned to think of current billionaires like elon musk, jeff bezos and bill gates as geniuses. they've learnt, since their first school years, that geniuses are almost like magicians, extremely smart people who were powerful enough to do amazing things. they're told that Albert Einstein discovered his theories of relativity because he was a genius, that Newton was divinely inspired to discover his theory of gravitation when an apple fell on his head, that all those people who made history had access to mental powers we, laypeople, don't -so, one is conditioned to regard current powerful people as something akin to a god. Of course, the scientists I mentioned didn't compile their theories due to divine intervention, but due to years of hard work, which they were financially able to spend devoted to research and education instead of, say, an everyday kind of job, and the work of previous scientists, their students etc etc. Every discovery with one name plugged on it has countless people behind it. But this is what people like Elon Musk capitalize on: nobody remembers the workers, only the celebrity -that's why his cars and rockets are considered to be "his", even though he has probably devoted nothing but money to them.

But if the layperson believes that their "kings" are geniuses, naturally more intelligent than themselves, they are conditioned to accept this power on them as natural, as a law of the jungle, even though it's a literal scam. We're putting side to side people with immensely different lives, ignoring every factor that contributes to their position at the moment and judge only on performance. We dare call this meritocracy and we dare call this "giving everyone what their work deserves". Because yes, judging on intelligence is inherently tied to work. It's inherently tied to how well you do on tasks, how efficient your skills are. It's also why intelligence is tied to very specific kinds of jobs -being in STEM implies mathematical and scientific intelligence, a "left brain" kind of person, one who can be used for technological and financial advancement. Artists who comply with the demands of the art market, a highly corrupted space serving as a a tax evasion and money laundering haven for rich people, are the ones praised and revered. The latest trend is self-made businessmen who are deemed to be geniuses for starting their own company, regardless of how they found the capital for it, or how much they actually serve their communities -but we are pushed to have them as our idols, to want to be like them, even though our finances would never allow this -our failure is turnt into our responsibility, a personal failure, not a difference in fortunes. These concepts are conditioning us to be ideal workers, striving to get more "intelligent" all the time, feeling inadequate in front of the myth some people have created to justify their power.

No, we all matter inherently. We are born and we deserve to live. This life is all we've got -how can others possibly decide if we deserve happiness, love and survival depending on how pleasing to their interests our performance is? We're living in a world where we need to prove ourselves all the time and where people are becoming products to be bought and consumed (which is amplified by social media). That's just not true. We don't need to prove anything. We hate mary sues in media because they're not real, but we've been made to believe that we need to be one in order to be adequate. I'm sure that you have people who love you just for who you are. And that's all you need to be. You are not your performance. Being alive is all you need to be.

This was a chaotic bunch of thoughts that I definitely didn't structure well, but I've been thinking of this for a long time and of how judging myself by my performance has affected me. I have always been on a rollercoaster of self worth depending on how my grades compared to my peers, because I thought this somehow would define my worth as a person, even if I didn't want to admit it. But I've spent now 7 months out of education -basically doing nothing- and I've realised that when you strip a person out of the numbers they define themselves by, there's still so much to see, so much that's important. And I refuse to live my life hanging on the external, of arbitrary judgement systems created by those with their own self-interest in mind. All I can hope for is better part of the world of education and research than my own professors were.

Thanks to anyone who read all of that.

#φ #intelligence

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