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kkintle · 2 years

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Hello World: Being Human in the Age of Algorithms by Hannah Fry; Quotes

Because there is a tradition among all those who have ever learned to code – a rite of passage, almost. Your first task as a rookie is to program the computer to flash up a famous phrase on to the screen: ‘HELLO WORLD’

No object or algorithm is ever either good or evil in itself. It’s how they’re used that matters. GPS was invented to launch nuclear missiles and now helps deliver pizzas. Pop music, played on repeat, has been deployed as a torture device. And however beautifully made a garland of flowers might be, if I really wanted to I could strangle you with it.

Because the future doesn’t just happen. We create it.

Understanding our own flaws and weaknesses – as well as those of the machine – is the key to remaining in control.

There’s an almost uncountable number of different algorithms. Each has its own goals, its own idiosyncrasies, its clever quirks and drawbacks, and there is no consensus on how best to group them. But broadly speaking, it can be useful to think of the real-world tasks they perform in four main categories: 1. Prioritization: making an ordered list 2. Classification: picking a category 3. Association: finding links Association is all about finding and marking relationships between things. 4. Filtering: isolating what’s important. Algorithms often need to remove some information to focus on what’s important, to separate the signal from the noise.

‘When people are unaware they are being manipulated, they tend to believe they have adopted their new thinking voluntarily,’

If there’s anything we can learn from this story, it’s that the human element does seem to be a critical part of the process: that having a person with the power of veto in a position to review the suggestions of an algorithm before a decision is made is the only sensible way to avoid mistakes. After all, only humans will feel the weight of responsibility for their decisions.

The only problem with this conclusion is that humans aren’t always that reliable either.

If your task involves any kind of calculation, put your money on the algorithm every time: in making medical diagnoses or sales forecasts, predicting suicide attempts or career satisfaction, and assessing everything from fitness for military service to projected academic performance. The machine won’t be perfect, but giving a human a veto over the algorithm would just add more error.

Algorithm aversion. People are less tolerant of an algorithm’s mistakes than of their own – even if their own mistakes are bigger.

Intriguingly, a rare exception to the superiority of algorithmic performance comes from a selection of studies conducted in the late 1950s and 1960s into the ‘diagnosis’ (their words, not mine) of homosexuality. In those examples, the human judgement made far better predictions, outperforming anything the algorithm could manage – suggesting there are some things so intrinsically human that data and mathematical formulae will always struggle to describe them.

And yet, if you build more than one tree – everything can change. Rather than using all the data at once, there is a way to divide and conquer. In what is known as an ensemble, you first build thousands of smaller trees from random subsections of the data. Then, when presented with a new defendant, you simply ask every tree to vote on whether it thinks awarding bail is a good idea or not. The trees may not all agree, and on their own they might still make weak predictions, but just by taking the average of all their answers, you can dramatically improve the precision of your predictions.

This has nothing to do with the crime itself, or with the algorithm: it’s just a mathematical certainty. The outcome is biased because reality is biased. More men commit homicides, so more men will be falsely accused of having the potential to murder.

Unless the fraction of people who commit crimes is the same in every group of defendants, it is mathematically impossible to create a test which is equally accurate at prediction across the board and makes false positive and false negative mistakes at the same rate for every group of defendants.

Weber’s Law states that the smallest change in a stimulus that can be perceived, the so-called ‘Just Noticeable Difference’, is proportional to the initial stimulus.

An outcome like this can happen even if you’re not explicitly using gender as a factor within the algorithm. As long as the prediction is based on factors that correlate with one group more than another (like a defendant’s history of violent crime), this kind of unfairness can arise.

If a diagnostic machine capable of recommending treatments can be built, who should it serve? The individual or the population? Because there will be times where it may have to choose.

The case of medicine is certainly less fraught with tension than the examples from criminal justice. There is no defence and prosecution here. Everyone in the healthcare system is working towards the same goal – getting the patient better. But even here every party in the process has a subtly different set of objectives.

There’s certainly a great deal of valuable information to be had from a camera. A neural network can understand the colour, texture, even physical features of the scene ahead – things like lines, curves, edges and angles. The question is: what do you do with that information once you have it? You could tell the car: ‘Only drive on something that looks like tarmac.’ But that won’t be much good in the desert, where the roads are dusty paths. You could say: ‘Drive on the smoothest thing in the image’ – but, unfortunately, the smoothest thing is almost always the sky or a glass-fronted building. You could think in quite abstract terms about how to describe the shape of a road: ‘Look for an object with two vaguely straight borders. The lines should be wide apart at the bottom of the image and taper in towards each other at the top.’ That seems pretty sensible. Except, unfortunately, it’s also how a tree looks in a photograph.

‘Things that look like autonomous systems are actually systems in which the world is constrained to make them look autonomous.’

Resemblance and identity are not the same thing and never will be, however accurate the algorithms become.

It’s a phenomenon known to psychologists as social proof. Whenever we haven’t got enough information to make decisions for ourselves, we have a habit of copying the behaviour of those around us.

Conclusion: the market isn’t locked into a particular state. Both luck and quality have a role to play.

(…) we’re put off by the banal, but also hate the radically unfamiliar.

Can an algorithm be creative if its only sense of art is what happened in the past?

You may not agree (I’m not sure I do), but there is certainly an argument that much of human creativity – like the products of the ‘composing’ algorithms – is just a novel combination of pre-existing ideas. As Mark Twain says: There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.

‘Creativity is just finding an association between two things which ordinarily would not seem related.’

There are boundaries to the reach of algorithms. Limits to what can be quantified. Among all of the staggeringly impressive, mind-boggling things that data and statistics can tell me, how it feels to be human isn’t one of them.

I’d also thoroughly recommend looking up some of Cope’s music online. I think the orchestra piece in the style of Vivaldi is my favourite: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kuY3BrmTfQ.

Imagine that, rather than exclusively focusing our attention on designing our algorithms to adhere to some impossible standard of perfect fairness, we instead designed them to facilitate redress when they inevitably erred; that we put as much time and effort into ensuring that automatic systems were as easy to challenge as they are to implement. Perhaps the answer is to build algorithms to be contestable from the ground up. Imagine that we designed them to support humans in their decisions, rather than instruct them. To be transparent about why they came to a particular decision, rather than just inform us of the result.

#Hannah fry #non-fiction #quotes #books #mathematics #algorithms #science #philosophy

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itsthewritergal · 2 years

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Promise? - D.M x Weasley!Reader (odd one out)

previous parts: Odd one out Dear Y/N Ashamed I was worried Don’t you ever forget it I really tried for you I’m not scared I need to know you’re safe Is this okay? nothing Craving each other

“Cedric!” Y/N called behind him as he made his way towards the Great Hall,

“Little Weasley, did you like my performance yesterday” Cedric grinned, Y/N spotted the bruises on his arms from when he got thrown against a few of the rocks

“You were alright” She teased “Although I thought Krum did much better than you” She laughed

“You’re only saying that because of his muscles” Cedric laughed loudly

“Have you figured out the egg yet?” She asked

“Not yet, I’ll have it figured out by tomorrow. Then it gives me enough time to prepare” Cedric said, they turned into the Great Hall, only for Y/N to be waved over by Draco “You two seem better” He said

“He actually asked me to the ball together a few days ago” Y/N smiled

“What?!” Cedric exclaimed loudly “You didn’t tell me that!” “I wanted you to focus on the first task” she said

“I want all the details!” Cedric exclaimed hurriedly

“Well we kinda had an argument just before he asked me, then he took me into the common room and it was all dark and then there where white roses and the most stunning dress in the world!”

“He bought you a dress?” Cedric asked

“Yes” Y/N laughed

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me” he said “Next time anything big happens you tell me”

“Okay, Okay!” Y/N agreed holding her hands up in a mock defeat

“Now go! You don’t want to keep loverboy waiting” Cedric laughed

— — — —

Y/N had never felt as loved as she night that night. Draco escorted her from the Slytherin Common room all the way to the Great Hall, never once letting go of her hand, he had told her countless times how beautiful she looked.

“Thank you” she whispered as they slow-danced together

“For what?” Draco asked cluelessly

“For this, for the dress, for making this night perfect” She said simply

“A perfect girl deserves a perfect night” He said with a award-wining smile

“You’re delusional if you think I’m perfect. But seriously Draco I’m really grateful, even if we are ‘just friends’ this means a lot to me”

“I think we both know we’ve never been ‘just friends’ despite what we both say” he said resting his chin on the top of her head, pulling her closer and closer into him until there was little space between them.

“What are we then?” She asked

“We’re Draco and Y/N, like we’ve always been” Draco said, Y/N pulled away from him

“What if I want more than that?” Y/N said

“You do?” Draco asked

“Yes” Y/N nodded,

Draco studied her face, as if he were attempting to commit it to his memory, every line, every freckle. He searched for any kind of doubt that she wasn’t telling the truth but he found nothing.

“Does this mean I can do this again?” He asked tilting her chin up so that there lips barely had any space between them

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted you to do” She said

“It’s a nice dress little sis” Fred sneered, Draco and Y/N quickly breaking away from each other

“I bought it for her” Draco said taking a step in front of her

“You’re really becoming a Slytherin through and through, what is that? Silk?” Fred asked

“Yes it is, but I never asked for it” Y/N defended herself

“You get the best dress while Mum had to buy Ginny a second hand one, that hardly seems fair” He said

“Don’t you have a date to get back to?” Draco asked

Fred sneered and turned his back on the two of them, Y/N’s shoulders slumped in defeat

“Ignore him darling, you’re with a Malfoy now the finer things in life are simply our lifestyle” He said placing a quick kiss on her forehead.

— — — —

The final task had snuck up on Y/N faster than she had realised. Her and Draco had never been closer and they had been spending as much time with Cedric as they could. Draco was extremely aware of the danger which Cedric was being put into, not that he would share those thoughts with Y/N. Him and Cedric had a blunt conversation a few days before the final task, where Cedric stated that if anything was to happen to him Draco had to look after Y/N as Cedric knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle herself if anything happened. Draco watched closely as Y/N hugged Cedric tightly before he entered the maze, he had a bad feeling about this task; not that he would admit that to Y/N. Y/N stood with Cedric and his father,

“Promise me you’ll stay safe?” Y/N said as she hugged Cedric

“I promise” Cedric said honestly

“Promise to come back?” She asked quietly

“I promise, but when I do you’ll have to deal with me having eternal glory” He grinned

“Good Luck” She said gently giving him one final hug before joining Draco in the stands

“He’ll be okay Y/N” Draco whispered he wrapped his scarf around her neck.

“I hope so”

— — — — — — —

“She still hasn’t moved Draco” Pansy said worriedly as they watched Y/N sitting with her knees tucked underneath her on one of the arm chairs

“It’s been days now, maybe we should call someone, Madame Pomfrey? McGonagall?” Blaise suggested

“What are they going to do?” His eyes returned to the shivering figure, Y/N’s hands were wrapped gently around the little Swedish Short-Snout, who Cedric’s father had given to her after his death. Cedric had told his father before the third task that Y/N must be given the dragon if anything went wrong. Y/N ran a finger down his scaled back, the small creature nestled further into her palm.

“They might be able to help?” Blaise suggested

“Go talk to her Draco” Pansy said quietly “She’ll listen to you” Draco nodded thoughtfully, and took a few steps towards Y/N. She didn’t look like herself, she was a little more sunken in than usual, and her fiery red hair was dull and lay idle around her shoulders.

“Hey darling” He said gently sitting down in front of the armchair

“He always loved the lake, I promised him we’d work out a way to sneak him in here so he could see the Giant Squid” She said quietly

“I know he did, why don’t you come with me and get some food huh?” He suggested knowing that she hadn’t eaten in a few days.

“I don’t want to” Y/N said,

“I could get Blaise to sneak you up something? A Brownie? Anything?” Draco suggested “I’m okay, honestly” Y/N said with a fake smile plastered on her face

“I know you’re not” Draco said calmly, he placed a comforting hand on her thigh rubbing small circles as she stared into the lake.

“I knew he shouldn’t have signed up to it” She said sadly,

“He wanted to, there wasn’t anything anyone could do to change his mind” He said gently

“I should have” She huffed “I should have tried harder, done something”

“Look why don’t you come back with me tomorrow? We can sit in the garden and read and I could teach you some Quidditch?” He suggested

“I don’t know” “Just for a week? I don’t want you going home when you’re feeling like this”

TAGLIST

tag list

@whitewineandpizzapuffs @planet-naptune @thefandomplace@sebby-staan @poguesinablanket @witch-and-a-half@nojamsonmytoast @seanh-boredom@wanniiieeee@louweasleymalfoy @missryerye @big-galaxy-chaos @barnestatic@devilsbooksworld

Odd one out taglist @loxbbg @louweasleymalfoy@isabellamur@hellion-writes @i-have-my-issues @malfoysmainb

#draco malfoy fic #Draco #Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco angst #draco x you #draco x reader angst #draco x y/n #draco x weasley #draco x reader #draco x slytherin!reader #odd one out #itsthewritergal

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fishyfod · 3 years

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The Good Conscientious Soldier; Winter Schnee

My government enforces mandatory enlistment to the Army to all citizens aged 18, just after high school. I refused to enlist, and had to officially pass an army committee to prove I'm a "valid" conscientious objector. There are many ways to avoid army service, and many reasons - which as far as I'm concerned, all are valid - but my main reason stems from my pacifism.

In a militaristic state like my own, my lack of servitude in the army - especially as a conscientious objector - is frowned upon. By everyone. I've had to defend my decision to more than just the official army committee (whose definitions of conscience are arbitrary at best), but also to strangers on the street, friends, family, and myself. One of the arguments I had to reason with, is what I call "the Good Conscientious Soldier".

RWBY Volumes 7 and 8 have managed to affect me in some unexpected ways. The show's good for many reasons, but the way these Volumes handle the themes of dismantling militarism and fascism in their very core means a lot to me. It's handled with care and excellent storytelling that are surprising, considering the show's weakest handled arc is the White Fang arc. The most surprising decision to me, was to make the Happy Huntresses - clearly, the very enemy of Atlas's militarism - be the confident heroes, assured that their decision to defect was true. Instead, the various soldiers take the role of the conflicted characters, the ones that struggle with their decision not to defect, but to serve. Most shows would have flipped this around, and RWBY did not.

The spotlight here is reserved to Winter Schnee, who impressed me greatly in Volume 7 with how her innate struggle between her conscience and her loyalty to the army was displayed. I have not seen many portrayals of this struggle that managed to satisfy me in their difficulty while still maintaining nuance.

The Good Conscientious Soldier is a difficult argument to resolve, I find, because it doesn't attempt to call your conscience into question - it weaponizes it against you. "Yes," the enlister agrees, "you've impressed me that your moral sense is great - but wouldn't that make you the perfect soldier? After all, if soldiers are committing immoral decisions - wouldn't it be better if a moral soldier like yourself, stands there in their place to prevent immoral actions from taking place? Isn't it then preferable, that if you wish to take action to fix our wrongs - you must change us from inside, serve in the army and show us the right way?"

Winter's actions in Volume 8, in particular episode 7, are extraordinary in a sense. After a Volume of struggling between her conscience and Ironwood, hurt after being left behind by Weiss and Penny alike, Winter finally listens to her moral compass and takes action. She commits the second worst offense any officer can do after defecting - she goes against orders. In letting Yang, Jaune and Ren go she disobeys Ironwood, her superior, deciding her sense of morality is more justified here. And she is correct, and her decision proves successful not only to the heroes and Oscar, but for the good of Atlas and Mantle. Monstra is blown up, Salem is temporarily neutralized.

The fallacy of the Good Conscientious Soldier argument, is not that soldiers cannot have conscience, or that their individual actions cannot possibly make things better. The fallacy is that the army is designed never to allow conscientious soldiers who would dare disobey orders to ever be where they are a nuisance. If you've proven to have an inflection towards disagreeing with your superiors, they will not put you where that disagreement can damage their plans. If you disobey orders in an attempt to make things right, you will be replaced by those who would follows orders right. You will be sent to trial, you will be judged, you will be punished - because you dared disobeying orders.

When the Army is faced with a conscientious soldier, the system self-corrects itself, and the anomaly will be removed. That is why the system cannot be changed from within, and why my refusal to enlist in the army must be total - I cannot, in good conscience, take any part in it.

In episode 10 of Volume 8, Winter Schnee’s attempt to make the right call - the moral one - is punished. She is caught red-handed, facing Ironwood - a dangerous fascist general who killed councilmen in cold blood, who abandoned a city and attempts to leverage its very existence for power, who imprisons her sister’s friends and just explained to her how he would extort their lives in “negotiation”, who wishes to violate the very humanity of her friend Penny. And she disobeyed his orders. Mark my words, she will be punished for this severely.

Militarism goes beyond the military, and bleeds into every aspect of society. First and foremost - schools. The education of making one a good soldier starts by making the army such an integral part of life, every pupil must coexistent with them as they learn. Servitude of the army becomes servitude of society. Lack of loyalty to your military and their actions, is betrayal of the very fabric of coexistence with your friends. Defection from the military is defection from your people.

Despite what some may think, the fact it was Harriet Bree that ratted out Winter is not what lead to this punishment. If Harriet Bree wasn’t there, someone else would’ve taken her place - and they would’ve done the exact same thing. Harriet Bree has reported for duty, just as she should have. Because Winter Schnee betrayed not just Ironwood, Winter betrayed Harriet, and made Harriet complicit in her insubordination. Winter effectively betrayed Atlas itself.

Winter is an excellent portrayal of the Good Conscientious Soldier, and I do not say this because I pity her. I am lucky in many ways this fictional character was not, and to look into her situation as if we are the same is self-centered. No, I say this because I value this portrayal, it touches me in ways I did not anticipate to feel from a cartoon show made in the US. I feel her struggle, I understand the difficulty, I want to see her overcome it. I’m rooting for her.

[gif by @chittychittyyangyang]

I hate to end this post on a sour note, but I cannot leave this unsaid. Some of you mocked Winter when she followed her conscience in Episode 7, and gloated as you watched Episode 10 and her insubordination was discovered. Fiction does not always reflect back to reality, but if in this case it does - then whatever form of anti-militarism you think you advocate for, it’s not genuine. Get off your high horse. Your anti-militarism is performative at best. I still hope, that this post was perhaps illuminating. Do with it what you will.

#Winter Schnee #RWBY Analysis #RWBY #my posts #fishy.analysis #long post #sorry I didn't put it under the cut #I couldn't find a right place to do it here

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teasty · 3 years

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kiss yourself (02) |h.js (m)

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff || fwb to lovers au

● words: 7.0k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

● taglist: @itzgabz22

Chapter One | CHAPTER TWO | Chapter Three

“Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you so good…”

You debated arson the next morning.

You woke up to the sound of screaming over the phone before the sun even came up, and realized that Jeongja was screaming her head off at some poor sap that probably didn’t deserve it. Well, who knows, you’re just mad that she didn’t even bother to leave the dorm room and go scream out in the hallway to give you your peace and another two hours of sleep. She didn’t even bother to apologize to you, only giving you a wave before she gathered some things and dashed out the door.

So, of course, you weren’t really the most happy - go - lucky person today. You decided to be lazy today and just wore an oversized gray tee shirt underneath a black jacket and a pair of denim blue ripped jeans. You didn’t even bother to do your hair, deciding to just let it flow around your shoulders and do it’s thing.

You didn’t see Jeongja again that day. You expected to see her somewhere on campus since you wanted to speak, no, yell at her why she should never, ever scream at three fifty in the morning and not even bother to apologize about it and then go running off. You debated calling her, but you didn’t want to deal with it, especially when you have better things to worry about.

It wasn’t really supposed to be a busy day, but it turned out to be just that. You’re a member of a specific team mostly meant for the organization and well being of the school. It could be considered something like a student council, but you’re not really in charge of the students, just more planning for future events and other things as well as budgeting. You’re only on this team because you were specifically chosen by a group of professors choosing students by their major. So, you, a political science major, got specially chosen for the job. Whether or not you wanted to be a part of the team, you were persuaded into it by professors, saying it’ll be beneficial for future decisions in your career as a politician.

There were only another seven students on the team. One of which, thankfully, is someone you know and trust, Christopher Bang. You both became good friends after you met him that one night months ago. Especially being on this team together made you both closer, and he was a lot friendlier than you had first imagined.

There’s another girl you know on the team, but you couldn’t call her your friend. Sure, you two talked often and never had any reason to dislike each other, but something about her just wasn't right with you. Her name is Jun Chunae. A beautiful young woman in your year, as well as your same major. She’s quite refined and civilized, if anything a little bit too proper for your liking. Whenever you tried to talk about parties, drinking or even just going out with friends for fun, she always liked to lecture you on how it’s disrespectful to the education system to ignore it’s attempt to educate us by going out and partying at night.

Other than that, she’s alright.

But, another thing about Chunae that never really sparked you right was how she acted when she was with Jisung. You had only learned recently that they’re quite touchy - feely with each other. You didn’t think they were friends, but it was obvious that Chunae had the hots for Jisung. But, with Jisung, you couldn’t really tell if he was attracted to her or not. He kind of treated her the way he treats every other girl, including you. And, that fact kind of made you upset. You know that you’re only his friend, but you have benefits that no other girl, to your knowledge, has. No, you don’t want to be treated like his girlfriend, but you didn’t just want to be treated like the only girl in the world one night only to watch him kissing up to someone else the next.

Were you jealous? Yeah, you were. You weren’t too fond of a girl you don’t exactly trust being too intimate with Jisung, your best friend. But, you’d never, ever, admit that to Jisung.

He’d cut things off the minute he hears that you’re jealous. He’d think you’re falling for him, and then try everything in his power to make sure nothing happens between the two of you. And that you’ll only stay his friend, with or without those stupid benefits.

But, back to the point at hand, you were pulled early out of your last class to attend a meeting for the team. You had met up with Christopher on your way to the conference room, since he had a class nearby your own.

“What could they want this time? And, here I thought we finally got out of these dumb meetings,” you whined, and Christopher laughed, nodding along as he agrees.

“I’m not sure,” Christopher sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I think Chunae would be sure to know,” Christopher rolls his eyes. Chunae was always the smart one of the group. She usually knew things before the rest of the team would know, which, in your eyes, was completely unfair. “Nothing against the girl, I just don’t like how she gets all these benefits just ‘cause she kisses the professor’s asses.”

“Right. I get what you mean,” you nod slowly, “But, it must be important if they pulled us out early without notifying us beforehand. It must be for some kind of event going on. No clue, though. We haven’t had a festival yet, so they might start one since winter’s coming soon.”

“Maybe a festival for the first snow?” Christopher suggests.

You shrug a shoulder, “Who knows. I don’t bother checking the weather, so snow could be falling any day, really. But you would think they would at least shoot us an email, right?”

“Who am I kidding, they don’t really care too much to ask if we’re free for a meeting. I was planning on going out with some friends tonight, but if this meeting is just like any other, then I might have to cancel.” Christopher looks down, obviously upset about the situation.

“Hey, don’t be so down about it. We might end early. And, if they do try to keep us in late, then just say you had plans and leave. It’s not like they’re going to kick out or anything. Besides, we’re already only eight people, we need more members, anyways.” You reassure, giving Christopher a friendly pat on the shoulder. You let your hands rest in your pocket, “Were you going to go with Jisung?’

“No, he said he had things to do,” Christopher shakes his head, not minding how you asked about Jisung, since you usually did to keep tabs on him, “No clue what, since that boy complains twenty - four seven about how boring it is in his dorm and how his roomie is usually doing his own thing. So it was just going to be Hyunjin, Changbin, Felix, Minho, Seungmin and I. We were gonna go to a bar. I’d invite you, but I don’t know how comfortable you would be around a bunch of guys without Jisung.”

“Yeah… Thanks for the consideration, though. I haven’t gone out drinking in a while. It might’ve been fun, but I think I would have had things to do tonight, anyways,” You give him a half - hearted smile, and Christopher bothers you a glance before his eyes shoot forward again. “Oh, hey, we’re here already.” You laugh to yourself as you stand in front of a wooden door with the word ‘CONFERENCE’ on it. Christopher opens the door for you, and you walk in. It’s dimly lit, and you weren’t surprised to see Chunae sitting at the head of the table, scrolling through her laptop as a professor sat next to her, mumbling about who knows what.

Her eyes shoot up the moment she hears the door open, and she shoots both you and Christopher a well practiced business smile before she takes her hands off her laptop and bows her head in welcome. Both you and Christopher bow back in respect, especially since a professor is present, and you both take a seat next to each other. “Hello (Y/N), Christopher. Good to see you guys made it. You have our apologies for pulling you out of class at random, but it’s quite important. Let's wait for the others before we start.”

“How important is it?” You ask, leaning back in the comfortable chair, raising a suspicious brow at Chunae, who closes her laptop.

“We’re holding an event, (Y/N),” Chunae says matter - of - factly, as if you should have known this by now, “It’s for the start of winter for the first snow. We’re going to do things a bit differently, a bit more western. It’s going to be… something like a dance. Except, we will have a performer and activities present, but for the majority of it, it’s a dance for the start of winter.”

“Called it,” Christopher raises a hand, and Chunae raises a thin, neatly trimmed brow at Christopher.

“Barely. It’s not like it’s a festival,” you hold back laughter as Christopher shrugs, still proud of his semi - correct assumption.

“Well, it can either be considered a festival or dance. Doesn’t really matter,” Chunae says, and Christopher snorts, and you glare at him. You fold your arms over your chest, making Chunae smile at your stubbornness, “Oh, come on, (Y/N). This will be fun. First, we must figure out budgeting and organization, as well as fitting everything into the school’s schedule. Other than that, it should mostly be advertising and preparation.”

After Chunae’s short description of what’s going to happen, the other team members glide in one by one. They all wave or bow to you, Christopher, the professor and to Chunae. All taking their respective seats and waiting for Chunae to begin the meeting. The professor left shortly after, not without bidding us good luck.

“Oh, and Chunae?” Christopher pipes up, and Chunae raises her brows at Christopher, giving him her attention, “How long are you going to keep up here. I originally had plans to go out with friends, so I don’t want to stay here until eleven like last time, if you can help it.”

“This is a very vital meeting, Christopher,” Chunae says, and Christopher rolls his eyes, looking away, “I don’t care if you want to go out with friends or not, this meeting might be long and that’s alright. You may choose to leave when you feel like it, but you might be absent for important information. It’s your choice.”

“Then why can’t you just e - mail me the information I missed?” Christopher shrugs a shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“Because it’s better to discuss in person, is it not?” Chunae stands up, picking up her laptop, “We will debate on different things, as well as discuss things. It’s difficult to discuss in real time over e - mail.”

“Then call me. I’ve got things planned, Chunae, you can’t just pull us out of nowhere and expect us to keep our mouths shut when you don’t even warn us beforehand that there’s going to be a meeting. Sorry, Chunae, but you’re not in charge,” Christopher sighs, obviously irritated. Chunae waits with a stoic expression.

“I’m sorry, Christopher. I really am. I know I’m not in charge, but the professors have trusted me with the information I’m about to share. If you take this role responsibly, you’ll stay without argument. If you don’t, then leave. You won’t be kicked from your spot, but, as said before, you will miss a lot of vital information. It’s your choice in the end,” Chunae responds, and Christopher sighs, deciding not to argue further.

And after that little dispute, Chunae started the meeting by explaining what’s going on. And, as said before, the school is hosting a dance, which is not something ordinary for Korean colleges, since festivals usually took place in spring and usually was just with an invited idol to perform for a few hours. Chunae explained that this dance is mainly supposed to mark the end of fall and a new quarter, as well as the first seeing of snow. It was obvious, even though she never directly said it, that it’s mostly meant for couples and friends.

Each team member was given a specific task to do. Before Christopher left to go out with friends, he was given the task of budgeting. You were in charge of consulting, which was mostly just getting people to fund as well as finding performers, DJs, hosts and other people. It’s a lot of social work you weren’t too excited for, but you knew you had to take responsibility and do the job whether or not you wanted to do it.

Though it was quite boring, you had gotten a text midway through it. Chunae gave you a subtle glare, but didn’t care for how you responded to the text and carried on with the meeting.

It was Jisung.

heard you were pulled into a meeting. how long will u be there?

You responded quickly, keeping your phone under the table as you typed, your hands somewhat trembling, and you had to calm yourself as you typed.

wont be leaving for another hour or two. its pretty big. ill let you know when im leaving

He responded to you, but you didn’t bother to look at it as you shoved your phone back in your pocket.

“And who was that?” Chunae asks after a moment, staring down at you.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your brows furrow, and Chunae sighs.

“Because I’m talking about something important and you’re texting.”

“It’s my friend. Calm down, he’s just wondering when I’m getting off,” you raise your hands in a mocking surrender, and Chunae’s chin lifts higher.

“Hmm. Is it Jisung? Han Jisung? He’s your friend, is he not?” Chunae asks, and you begin to feel annoyance pile through you.

“Yeah, he is. What about it?” You ask, and Chunae shrugs her shoulders.

“I was just wondering,” Chunae sits back down in her seat, the others watching the conversation between the two of you with curious eyes. Chunae stuffs a lock of hair behind her ear, “He’s quite the looker. I hope I have your blessing if anything were to happen between us.”

“I don’t care what happens between the two of you guys,” you spit out, lying straight through your teeth. You do care. You care a lot. A part of you would be happy for Jisung, but another part doesn’t want him to leave you hanging for a girl like Chunae. You know she would treat him well and that Jisung might be better off with a girl like Chunae, but that jealous part of you doesn’t want to let him go. You love the sneaking around, the overnight sessions and even the semi - public ones. You’re not really ready to let that go, yet. It’s only been a few months. You didn’t expect for someone to be kissing up to Jisung this soon, but you should have expected it. “He’s my best friend. As long as you treat him well, then I might not consider punching your teeth in if you do end up with him.”

Chunae laughs, and you tensely chuckle through your nose along with her, “Well, I’m sure Jisung is happy to have a friend like you, (Y/N). So protective. Sometimes I’ve gone to wonder if you two are really in a relationship or not.”

“Yeah. You two basically hang off of each other, you’re around each other all of the time,” says another team member who you recognized as Naeyeon. Someone you didn’t bother to get to know. She didn’t seem to like you that much, anyways.

“It’s none of your business in the first place, if we were in a relationship. Which, we’re not,” you snap, not really in the mood to talk about Jisung right now, “Can we get back to the main focus?”

“Yes, my apologies, (Y/N). I shouldn’t invade your personal life like that in a professional environment like this,” Chunae stands up again, and you sigh. Already tired of this meeting.

At the end, you’re given loads of papers to go through considering consultation, and you weren’t ready to study them just yet. Your backpack got ten times heavier as you stuffed them in there, and you were the first one to leave when Chunae called the meeting to an end. You didn’t even bother to wave goodbye as you slammed through the door, basically speed - walking to get out of the main building and to the dorm rooms.

As said before, you had nothing against Chunae. In fact, you’d like to get to know her past her proper and all - to civilized self. If she were to let loose, she might be really fun, in your eyes. Her whole aura just sets you off, sometimes. Sometimes, she can get pretty stuck up, and you’re not sure how Jisung could handle her if he continuously complains about your stubbornness.

Speaking of Jisung, one of the first things you did when you basically ran out of the conference room was text Jisung that the meeting’s finally over and if you should start heading there.

He never answered faster.

He said you should head there, but to be careful of security since it’s so late. You were cautious, but thankfully no officer was out this late, even though it was only ten - thirty at night and curfew was thirty minutes ago. It’s a pretty long walk to Jisung’s dorm, though, since it’s on the top floor of the (decently huge) building. Since it’s past curfew, the elevators weren’t in working order anymore, and you had to take the stairs to the top floor, which absolutely killed your feet. But, once you made it to the familiar dorm door, you rested against the doorframe before knocking softly.

It takes Jisung a minute to open the door. You take that time to relax your weight against the doorframe, but your peace is short-lived when the door swings open so fast you almost lose balance of yourself by how fast Jisung opens the door. So, it takes you a short moment to actually take in Jisung’s appearance. His hair is messy and damp, and it’s obvious he has just showered most likely not too long ago. He wears a pair of gray sweatpants and no shirt, and you try not to gawk at his well built and defined body. He stares down at you silently, a small smirk playing at his lips as his half - lidded eyes scan over your body.

But, after that moment, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you inside. The moment the door is slammed shut and locked behind you, he presses you against the door. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest as Jisung’s hands grip your wrists and pin you to the door. His face mere centimeters away from yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips. Your backpack falls to the floor. No matter how many times you’ve had sex with Jisung, he’s never been one for intimate kissing in your relationship with him. Which, to you, was weird since he always tried to get playful kissing from you out of sex or even from his other friends. Sure, you’ve both kissed before, but usually it’s not very intimate.

But, he kisses you before you could say anything. His hands firmly, yet gently gripping your wrists and pinning them to the door as his lips find themselves planted against yours. His soft lips move with yours in a passionate sync, and you don’t hesitate when you kiss him back. Your hands balled into fists as Jisung presses his body against yours, both of your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Chills shoot through your body as Jisung’s lips capture yours in a slow, yet lust filled kiss. It’s not rushed nor sloppy, but filled with desire and crave. You let yourself melt into his kiss, his experienced lips having you succumb to him, and you could already feel yourself dripping wet from just this simple kiss.

To you, however, it wasn't so simple. You never usually get this chance to have Jisung kiss you so passionately. You never bothered to ask why, and mostly thought he didn’t want to do it because, during sex, it’s something mostly only real couples would do. Not friends with benefits. So, when his tongue meets with yours in a euphoric, blissful way, you try to savor the feeling. Knowing this might be one of few chances you’ll get to actually enjoy such a kiss, you try to make it last as long as you can.

Jisung’s lips eventually lift off of yours, but he leads a trail of firm, wet kisses down your jawline and over your neck. His tongue licking stripes up your neck as he sucks on the delicate skin. Your womanhood throbs from the feeling, and your legs press together. Jisung’s hands let go of your wrists, and you let your hands grip onto Jisung’s hair. His hands creep underneath your shirt and hoodie, lifting them up as his cold hands meet with your warm skin. His hands feel up your waist, and your head falls back, your kiss - bruised mouth opening from the bliss.

“What… What’s gotten into you tonight?” You mumble out, your arms wrapping around Jisung’s neck, pressing him further against you as his hands firmly brush over your ass and up your back.

Jisung’s lips brush against the lobe of your ear and he chuckles deeply, sending chills through you and you let out a pathetic whimper because of it, “Can’t I do something for a friend?” He says this in just above a whisper, his voice deeper and huskier than normal. And then he goes back to pressing kisses underneath your ear, trailing down your neck, moving one hand up to move your hair out of the way.

You don’t argue with him, and you let him dominate you.

Jisung pulls off your hoodie along with your tee shirt. Pulling you away from the door as he throws the articles of clothing to the side. He guides you to his bed, having you lay down on your back as Jisung pulls himself over you. Trapping you underneath him, and your hands fly to the sides of your head, succumbing to him. Jisung pushes himself down, now pressing kisses to your collarbone and over your chest. One hand fumbling with the straps of your bra, pushing them down your shoulders before they tamper with the clip.

Jisung doesn’t even hesitate to rip off your bra, and throw it alongside the other articles of clothing (most of which landed on Jeongin’s bed, and you would do something about it if you weren’t so caught up in the moment with Jisung). You let in a deep, sharp inhale when your warm breasts make contact with the cool air. Jisung looks down at you, examining your exposed breasts before his eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is flushed a beautiful pink, and Jisung stares at your face, loving the flustered expression you’re making before his head dips down. One hand flying up to cup one breast, his hands moving efficiently and swiftly as he firmly massages it. His lips kissing down your other breast before his tongue makes contact with your erect bud.

You emit a breathy moan as chills run through your body as Jisung suckles on one breast while his hand plays with the other. His thumb running over and pressing against the hard bud as he firmly massages your breast in circles. His tongue working wonders over your sensitive nipple, and your teeth capture your bottom lip in between them as your hands run through his hair, letting out soft whimpers here and there when he sucks harshly on your breast or pinches your nipple.

“Jisung… Oh, you’re gonna make me pay you back for this, aren’t you?” You breathe out, and Jisung chuckles against you. His tongue pressing against your nipple, and his eyes look up to meet yours.

Once he lets go, your back arches when your breast, which was once warm in the cavern of Jisung’s mouth and tongue, meets the cold air. “You think so lowly of me, baby.” Jisung presses kisses along your chest, going lower and lower, and you watch him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“I’m usually the one blowing you off, Jisung - ah,” you state, “It’s not like you to - mmh…! - do things like this.” The back of your hand presses against your lips as they press into a firm line, trying to hold back whimpers as Jisung’s fingers start to undo the buttons of your jeans. His lips pressing kisses to the bottom of your abdomen; a sensitive area, and it sends sparks of chills up your spine.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” Jisung breathes out, lips still pressed against your skin as he speaks, his dark eyes flickering up to meet with yours, “Don’t think too much into it. Just let me make you feel good, alright?” You nod quickly, your mouth closing and your hips lift with Jisung’s hands as he slowly pulls off your jeans. “That’s my good girl. My good little (Y/N).” He chuckles darkly, and you whimper softly at both the feeling of your soaked panties meeting the cold air and from Jisung’s praise.

Your thighs are on either side of his head, and Jisung’s hands guide them apart, spreading you out for him. And, boy, is it a sight for sore eyes. Jisung occasionally looking up at you, the eye contact making you even wetter from just the intensity of his eyes. His breath fans your clothed cunt, and your hips jitter and twitch just from that. Jisung cooes at your sensitivity. He knows you’re sensitive, but since things are usually rushed, he’s never really taken the chance to slowly edge you on. “My baby girl is so sensitive and I haven’t even touched her pussy…”

Jisung’s finger makes contact with your clothed cunt, pressing against your labia and firmly pressing up and over your clit. Your hips stutter at the feeling, and Jisung watches you as your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back. Your mouth opening to let out a beautiful, breathy moan.

But, you weren’t prepared for when Jisung pulls off your panties, his hands having to fly up to stop your thighs from slamming against either side of his head. “Ah - ah - ah… keep your legs spread for me.” He guides your legs back, spread apart and resting against the sheets. A slight burn on your inner thighs from the stretch. You watch Jisung as one arm wraps around one of your thighs, his other hand caressing your other thigh, and he presses a wet kiss on your inner thigh. Dangerously close to your exposed pussy. And, oh, how exposed you feel. Usually, you both do quickies in bathrooms or the car or somewhere where you have to put your clothes back on quickly. You’re never, usually, completely nude in front of him. So you couldn’t deny that you were a bit embarrassed by how exposed you were to him.

Your head flies back, and you finally let out your first vocal moan when Jisung’s mouth comes in contact with your pussy. His tongue pressing against your wet cunt and his lips kissing your folds. Jisung smirks against you, his tongue working wonders on your throbbing cunt. His warm mouth engulfing your cunt, and your hands brush through his hair. Gripping onto either his hair or the sheets by you as Jisung’s tongue lickes stripes up your labia, occasionally teasing your sensitive, aching clit.

Your moans get even louder when one of Jisung’s fingers begins to tease your entrance, his mouth now more focused on your clit. His middle finger slowly enters you, and you clench around him. “Oh, fuck, Jisunggie… That feels so good.” You whimper out as Jisung’s knuckles meet with you, as his finger is fully flush inside of you. Your warmth engulfing his finger, clenching around him, looking for something more. He chuckles against you, his tongue still licking up your clit, sometimes pressing sloppy kisses to it. His finger slowly begins to thrust in and out of you. More of a slow drag than a thrust.

Your mind fogs as Jisung slowly begins to add more and more fingers, his pace still slow, but fast enough to make you whimper delicately when his fingers hit a certain spot deep inside your wet, warm walls. His other hand gripping your thigh firmly, but not firm enough to leave a mark of any kind. You gently moan out his name, and it only seems to give him more and more confidence to be just a little bit rougher, but still being euphorically slow and steady.

However, it’s when he sucks gently on your clit and roughly drags three fingers out, stretching you out, before letting them roughly ram back into you, hitting your G - Spot, when you feel your climax nearing. Your back arches, and your hands grip the sheet by your head tightly as you let out a moan, “Ji… Baby, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your bottom lip becomes captured in between your teeth as your hips begin to stutter and twitch, bucking up into Jisung, but his free hand tries to hold you down. He didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even look up at you. His brows furrow, focused solely on your climax. He doesn’t slow down either. He only speeds up. Sucking on your clit while his fingers thrust into you.

When your climax hits, you let out a string of loud moans, both incoherent curse words and Jisung’s name. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth opens. Your back arching off of the bed as you cum on Jisung’s fingers. His fingers rut slowly into you, twisting and pressing against your G - Spot. His tongue presses against your clit to helpL: you ride out your high.

His lips detach from your throbbing pussy, and his fingers slowly pull out of you. His fingers coated in your cum. Jisung takes a moment to catch his breath. He looks up at you, and you're still coming back from your orgasm, the sense of overwhelming bliss. Jisung climbs up, trapping you under him once more. Your legs still spread for him, and Jisung pulls you into another kiss.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s bitter, but you don’t care. You don’t care for how gross it may be, you just want to kiss him. You just want all of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and Jisung’s hands caress your thighs, “Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you so good… You want that? Want me to fuck you, baby girl?”

Your head leans back and Jisung’s lips graze over your neck, “Yes, Jisung. I want you to fuck me hard… Want you to fill me, please. Please, Jisung, I need you so bad.”

Jisung smirks, already pulling down his sweats, “I fucking love how you beg for me. Only for me.” You moan out in response. Jisung finally lets his hard cock free, and it presses to his abdomen. Leaking with precum, just from eating you out. The tip is a pretty pink, and you bask in the thought how you, alone, can make him so hard. Jisung gets on his knees, and you watch how he takes a condom from his nightstand drawer and rips it open. Preparing his cock into it before his tip presses against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm.

“You ready for me, baby?” Jisung asks, moving your hips up to align with his cock, which is barely pressing against your entrance. You nod frantically, the only thing coursing through your mind being how badly you want Jisung’s cock inside you. How ready you are for him. “Use your words, (Y/N).”

“Yes… Goddamn it, Jisung, just fuck me already, please. I need it so bad,” You whimper out, irritated by the emptiness inside you.

Jisung laughs darkly, “Feisty, now are we? I like your pride, (Y/N), but I’ll be sure to shut you up, got it?” And, without warning, Jisung presses into you. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth as Jisung’s hard cock slowly drags deeper and deeper into you. Filling you to the brim, and stretching you out more than his fingers ever could. Jisung’s hand grips your wrist, pinning it to the bed, “No, no. I want to hear your voice. Wanna hear your pretty moans as I break you.”

Jisung is slow, painfully slow at first. You’re wondering how he could hold back, since he usually tends to fuck you like no tomorrow. Jisung slowly drags himself out, feeling your walls clench around him, before pushing himself back in. His head dips down to watch his cock disappear into your soaking pussy, and he lets out small groans as you let out breathy moans with each thrust. “Ji… Jisung - ah… Faster, please.” Jisung looks up at you, a smirk edging on his lips before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“As you wish, (Y/N),” and so he followed through with your plea, and slowly started to pick up speed. His forehead presses against the side of your head as your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to get even deeper inside you. With every thrust, you can feel his tip meet your cervix, and it’s such an intense feeling, you could cum right there with just enough force. But, you want this to last. You want to savor this moment for as long as you can.

Soon enough, Jisung flips you over, pressing the side of your face into the mattress as he gets on his knees. He leans over you, pressing his chest against your back and moves your hair to the side to give himself the access he needs to press wet kisses to the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine as he enters you once more. His hands grip your wrists as he groans into your neck, your loud moans muffled by the pillow below you as Jisung rams into you. His cock moving fast against your walls, giving such a blissful, burning sensation inside you that you want even more of. His hips meet over and over again with your ass as he thrusts into you. Your moans echo through the room, and at this point, you don’t care if anyone overheard you.

“Oh, fuck, baby. God, I love your pussy so much,” Jisung moans out next to your ear, and you don’t have the stability to respond to him, only with pathetic moans falling out of your lips. “Drivin’ me goddamn crazy…” Jisung grumbles as he sits himself up. His hands gripping your hips firmly to move you with him, sending you back with his thrusts as he fucks himself into you.

You can tell when Jisung is nearing his climax, because instead of his usual rhythmic thrusts, his hips begin to stagger and twitch, and his moans rise in pitch and get louder in volume. When he nears his climax, you can feel another one climbing up for you, mostly from the pure oversensitivity from your last orgasm. “Oh my fucking god… Oh fuck, cum with me, (Y/N). Cum with me.” He moans out his words, and your voice gets higher as your back arches once more, meeting your climax. Jisung leans over you again, his forehead resting on the back of your neck as his hands tightly grip your hips as he cums at last into the condom.

“Fucking hell… that was so good,” you breath out, trying to catch your breath. Jisung takes his time to relax his overworked muscles by leaning over you. He takes a minute before he pulls himself up and out of you. Your hips fall, and you wipe off the sweat as Jisung ties off the condom and gets up, tossing it into the bin.

He gets up, going over to his dresser to grab a towel. He cleans you up silently, and you watch him with curious eyes.

The moment he turns away to toss the towel into a hamper, you get up and walk over to Jeongin’s bed to grab the clothes Jisung had thrown onto it. You pick up your bra and shirt, and you barely even notice Jisung behind you before he speaks, “Are you leaving?”

“Don’t you want me to?” You look over to Jisung, who’s now wearing a pair of boxers and nothing more. He’s standing close behind you. You don’t mind the close proximity.

Jisung shakes his head, “No… Stay here tonight. Jeongin won't be back till the weekend.” Your mouth falls ajar slightly, surprised by his words. You pull your shirt over your head and put it on, and Jisung watches you.

“Alright… I’ll stay,” you sigh, and Jisung smiles down at you softly. You turn to face him, your brows furrowed, “But, seriously, what has gotten into you? You’re a bit more… intimate tonight. Didn’t really expect that.”

“What? Can’t I do something for you?” Jisung teasingly smirks at you.

“Well… yeah, but I just didn’t expect you… to do that.” You mumble out, and Jisung laughs.

“Kiss you like that?”

“Yeah.” You shrug a shoulder, “You know what, let’s not think too much into it. I’m tired.” You sigh, and Jisung laughs softly, shaking his head. You climb into his bed, pulling his blanket over you as Jisung turns off the lights and climbs in right next to you. Pressing his chest against your back, and one of his arms wraps around your waist. His chin resting on top of your head. Your heart hammers against your chest, and you try to calm yourself so he wouldn’t hear it. But, it seems impossible. Jisung’s acting weird today, and you want to find out why.

But, the answer comes sooner than you imagined.

“I don’t think we’ll be doing this much longer.”

Your eyes snap open, and your brows furrow. “What… did you say?”

“I said… I don’t think we’ll be doing this much longer,” Jisung repeats, a bit louder than before. You had heard him loud and clear the first time, but it shocked you, “I… I dunno, (Y/N). There’s this girl. And… I really… really like her. God, I sound like a middle schooler, don’t I?” He chuckles, but you don’t respond to him. You stare at the darkness, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly when he realizes that you’re not responding. His arm squeezes you tightly. “If things work out, we can’t do this anymore.”

“Who is it?”

“Huh?”

“Who is it.”

Jisung chuckles again, and you can tell he’s getting nervous. Whatever the reason is, you don’t know. Maybe he can tell that you’re irritated with this news, “You know that one girl in your political science class? Jun Chunae. It’s her.” You hold back a groan, and roll your eyes. Of course it’s Chunae, “She and I have been hanging out recently. And, god, I think I really like her, (Y/N).”

“Of course,” you scoff, and Jisung props himself up to look at you through the darkness, “Of fuckin’ course it’s Chunae. Always Jun Chunae. That’s why you invited me over, wasn’t it? That’s why you treated me so well tonight, because it’s one of the last times, huh?”

“No, that’s not… that’s not what I’m saying,” Jisung says slowly, as if dipping toes in dangerous waters.

“Don’t lie to me, Jisung,” you snap, “I know you. You don’t like to kiss me before, during or even after sex. You just don’t. You don’t take it slow and you don’t even usually bother to pleasure me. I get it now. It’s not a problem, I’m just a bit upset that you lied to me.”

“And how the fuck did I lie to you,” Jisung doesn’t even ask it, it’s more of a demand. You can hear how he’s getting angry right back at you.

“You said you wanted to do something special for me. You said that this was supposed to be special. But, it’s not. Just for you to cut things off.” You sit up and push Jisung’s arm off of you. You scramble off of the bed, and Jisung laughs bitterly.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). You’re overreacting,” you can hear Jisung’s smile in his voice, but you don’t smile. You don’t even bother with your underwear and just throw your jeans on. You turn on the light and slip on your shoes. Jisung’s expression falls, “Wait, (Y/N), don’t leave.” You turn back to give him a dead glare, and Jisung brows crease in desperation.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to be here if you’re going to start chasing after Chunae, don’t you think?” You say and sling your backpack over your shoulders.

“But, if you just wait a little bit longer… I can…”

“You can what, Jisung?” You turn to face him.

“I…” Jisung trails off.

“Goodnight, Jisung. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You unlock the door and open it, “Thanks for the special night.”

Jisung gives up, and plops back onto the bed as you slam the door behind you.

Now you were really considering arson. And not just for the school, but to just burn down Jun Chunae.

You weren’t in love with Han Jisung. But a part of you was beginning to debate that.

591 notes · View notes

ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update resolving where we left off last week, to be soon followed by another gwynriel bonus scene. after that i am never going off the tracks of my fic outline ever again.

***

Nesta is going to commit murder. She really is.

Gwyn is the first to hop out of bed, rapidly tugging her T-shirt down to cover her bare girl parts. “I can explain—” she starts.

“You.” Nesta points at Azriel, who’s still sitting shirtless and confused. “You. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Be more specific.” Azriel slides off the bed and picks up a pair of panties from the ground, trying to hand them to Gwyn. Gwyn smacks his hand away, but the sight enrages Nesta all the same.

She nods to herself, her thoughts whirling. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re here,” she says. “I was considering sparing you, but now my mind is made up.” She rushes at Azriel without warning.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Gwyn jumps in front of a wide-eyed Azriel, arms outstretched to fend Nesta off.

Nesta reaches past Gwyn’s shoulder and jumps, trying to grab Azriel, hit him, anything. “My sister and my best friend?” she seethes, batting at him. “My sister and my best friend?”

“The hell are you going on about?” Azriel snaps over Gwyn’s head.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Nesta succeeds in pushing Gwyn out of her way, and comes up chest to chest with Azriel, all fiery glares. “You think you can get away with whatever you want because you’re the cool uncaring one, and you probably can, but not with me. We’re the same person, jackass.”

Before Azriel can respond, slim arms grab Nesta around the waist and start dragging her backwards into the hallway. Gwyn lets go of Nesta and slams the door shut after them, leaving Azriel inside the room alone.

“This is way too much for me to be doing without underwear!” Gwyn yells at her. “Will you please explain yourself?”

“What do I have to explain? He should be explaining himself!” Nesta flings her arm toward the bedroom. It’s not like Azriel is any random hookup of Elain’s. He’s also Nesta’s friend, and Nesta expected better from him.

Gwyn drops her head and rubs her freckled temples in exhaustion. “It’s not like I wasn’t there, too. Are you even going to ask why we were together? Do you have any questions at all, or are you just going to break into my home and assume he took advantage of me?”

Nesta shuts her mouth. She didn’t ask any questions, did she? She hasn’t even considered Gwyn’s part in this.

She clears her throat, her voice strained from shouting. “I thought you were at work.”

“Clearly I’m not.” Gwyn crosses her arms, then immediately drops them to readjust her short T-shirt.

Nesta bites. “Why? How? Since when did you guys even talk to each other?” Even after catching Azriel flirting on their ski trip, Nesta couldn’t have predicted that he and Gwyn would end up here. It’s far too much of a leap.

“It’s really not what you think it is.” Gwyn twists a piece of ruddy hair between her fingers. “He’s just… helping me get back into the dating pool. We made an agreement, and he’s doing me a huge favor.”

Nesta’s jaw drops. “By eating you out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes meet hers. “I can’t ever have a chance with Max if I freak out when he eventually tries to take my clothes off. Especially when I want him to take my clothes off. So I decided after the ski lodge that I needed to get comfortable with sex again, and I… recruited Az to help.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Nesta is left with more questions than before. “So,” she holds up a hand, “the thought of doing it with Azriel doesn’t scare you? Not even a little?”

Gwyn scoffs. “If I didn’t know him from elementary school, then it probably would. Unfortunately, I’ve firsthand seen the guy shove crayons up his nose.” She casts a glance toward the bedroom door and lowers her voice. “And I honestly don’t have any proof that he doesn’t still do it.”

That’s—unfortunately understandable. It also explains why Azriel has been comfortable with Gwyn from the start, though Nesta doesn’t know why Gwyn didn’t tell anyone about their shared history.

“Look, Nesta, I know he’s your roommate,” Gwyn continues, “but I think you overreacted a little back there.”

Right. Does Gwyn even know about Azriel and Elain? “It wasn’t because of you,” Nesta tries to explain. “It was because—”

Before she can finish, the door clicks open and Azriel comes out, thankfully clothed in his shirt and gym shorts. He slides his hands into his pockets and says, “I’m joining before any more unflattering things can be said about me.”

Nesta’s lip curls into a sneer at the sight of him. “I wouldn’t let you run away from me anyway.” She crosses her arms and faces him down. “You agreed to teach Gwyn how to get comfortable with sex?”

The hallway is crammed now with Azriel’s height taking up most of the space, but he doesn’t seem to care as he leans against the wall and answers, “Hell yeah.”

Nesta is more than suspicious and untrusting right now, but she pauses to wonder: does Azriel know why Gwyn has such trouble with intimacy in the first place?

It’s none of her business, she decides. Except now she’s even more wary. “What do you get out of this little deal, huh? Or do you just volunteer to have sex with my friends out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m getting guitar lessons out of it,” he says without hesitating. “But it’s also the goodness of my heart.” He smirks.

Gwyn throws a surprised look in his direction. Nesta is more than ready to smack the smirk off his face with her bare hand, but she settles for her words instead. “What would Elain say if she knew, Azriel?”

Azriel’s face goes cold. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I wish she didn’t,” Nesta says. “Explain why I have to comfort her when she wonders why you abandoned her without even a text message while you get to play around with my friends without a care in the world?”

Azriel might as well be made of stone. “You talked to her?”

“You’re a coward,” she hisses. “Do what you want, but know that you’re a coward until you explain yourself to her.” Nesta lets out a ragged breath and drags her stare to Gwyn.

Gwyn shakes her head quickly and raises her hands in defense. “I’m just trying to get laid. Don’t bring me into this.”

Nesta pats her arm. “Of course not, babe.” The last thing she wants is Gwyn involved with either of her sisters—which is why it would be preferable if Gwyn avoided Azriel altogether.

Gwyn lets out a big “Phew,” and cuts an unreadable look toward Azriel. He avoids her gaze.

“Let me get you a drink,” Gwyn says quickly to Nesta, starting to steer her toward the kitchen. Nesta shakes her off and steps away. “It’s okay; I’ll leave now. Also, I can see your—” She waves at Gwyn’s lower half.

Gwyn chuckles awkwardly and tugs her shirt back down, her cheeks flaring red. “I’ll go get your sweater.” She rushes back inside her room, leaving Nesta and Azriel alone in the hall.

Azriel says nothing, but Nesta stares him down until Gwyn returns wearing a pair of shorts and carrying Nesta’s sweater. “Here, I already washed it for you.”

Nesta breaks her gaze with Azriel to take her sweater. “Sorry for breaking into your room,” she tells Gwyn. “I didn’t mean to ruin your…” She nearly gags trying to finish her sentence, so she doesn’t bother. Instead, she turns back to Azriel. “I’m excited to see how those guitar lessons pay off. You’ll give us all a performance when this is over, hm?”

He doesn’t bother responding, and Nesta takes her leave.

***

“I still can’t believe him,” Nesta is grumbling while she and Cassian get ready for bed. “How long is he going to stay in the reading nook like that? I can’t get to my books and he knows it.”

“He’s punishing himself since you won’t,” Cassian says as he towels off his damp hair. Water droplets speckle his bare chest. “He won’t go back to his room as long as he feels guilty about Elain.”

Once Nesta decided that getting vengeance for Elain’s broken heart would do more harm to the cabin ecosystem than good, she chose to contain her anger at Azriel by pretending that he simply didn’t exist. As for Azriel… Azriel has been sleeping on the loveseat in the upstairs reading nook for the past five days. The two of them haven’t spoken since Nesta caught him in Gwyn’s bedroom.

Cassian himself has many thoughts about the choices Azriel has been making lately, and a part of him knows it would be easier for everybody if he just forced Az’s sorry ass back to Velaris. But Nesta is involved in this, too, and she has yet to give the order to kick Azriel out. Rather, she seems content to either ignore him or to burn judgmental stares into him.

Out of love for Azriel, Cassian can’t help but be relieved.

Nesta scoffs in response to Cassian, slathering lotion onto her legs. “Bullshit. He’s punishing me by taking away my reading nook, the bastard.” Done with her legs, she searches around the bed for her glasses, squinting because she can’t see a thing.

Withholding his amusement, Cassian goes over to her and plucks her glasses from the top of her head, sliding them onto her face. She blinks and gives a rare smile up at him when she realizes she can see again, then soon frowns as she casts her gaze about the room. “Where’s my book? Did I leave it at home again?”

Cassian knows Nesta calls the apartment home out of old habit, but it still makes jealousy sting in his chest. “I’ll get you another one,” he offers. “What do you want?”

She gives him the title for something that has to do with erotic Vikings that he immediately recognizes. It’s on the top shelf in the reading nook. He promises to return with the book.

The rest of the cabin is dark by now, but Az is still wide awake and staring up at the wooden beams that criss-cross the ceiling when Cassian sneaks into the nook. Moonlight coming in through the glass door leading to the balcony illuminates both of them.

Cassian doesn’t know whether to feel exhausted or irritated, so he passes by his brother without a word to look for the book.

He already confronted Azriel earlier about what the hell was wrong with him, and got nothing out of the man. Not even an apology. At which point Cassian wanted to beat some sense into him the way they used to during their school days, but restrained himself through some godly miracle.

He’s trying—really trying—not to shove his nose into Azriel’s decisions like that. If he does, he’ll end up being just as bad as Rhys.

Finding the worn paperback boasting a shirtless Nordic god on the cover, Cassian turns to leave.

“You know Nesta can get her books herself, right?” Az’s voice sounds velvety in the darkness.

Cassian bristles. “Don’t start.”

“You mad at me too?”

Yes, Cassian is mad. Mad that he seems to be the only brother with a working brain anymore. “When do you plan on getting your shit together?” he says.

“How?” Az replies. “By apologizing to Elain or by leaving Nesta’s friend alone?”

Cassian still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Gwyn who used to shy away from talking to him ran straight into Azriel’s arms for sex advice. On one hand, good for her. On the other, Cassian wishes she had less messy taste. “Both,” he grits, getting frustrated.

Az shrugs, still staring up at the ceiling. “I’m keeping my promise to Gwyn. No matter what.” He sounds nonchalant, but Cassian knows he’s serious.

His grip on the paperback tightens, because that’s still not a real answer to his question. “I warned you when you moved in that you were walking a thin line, Az. I’ve been nice for the past week, but at some point you’re gonna have to tell me why I shouldn’t kick you out right now and save myself and Nesta the headache.”

Azriel finally meets Cassian’s eyes, and his gaze is unreadable. “Do it, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

Cassian’s face darkens with rage. “Just watch me, then.” He leaves before he can throw the book at Azriel’s head.

Back at their bedroom, Nesta takes one look at him and asks, “What happened?”

He tosses the book onto the bed and doesn’t come any closer. “I told Azriel I’d kick him out.”

Her brow furrows in concern. “Will you go through with it?”

No. And Az knows it too, the asshole.

Cassian takes in a shallow breath. “I just want to be a good brother.” It’s why he can’t stop giving Az chances, even when it inconveniences the woman he loves. “I want to be a good brother, a good partner, a good friend. I want to be all those things at once.”

Nesta’s lip quirks up. “You’re definitely better at all that than I am.” She rests her chin on one bent knee and frowns. “What else do you want to be?”

“That’s it.” His shoulders slump. “Nothing else.”

Nesta gives an amused huff. “All those things are for other people, though. Forget me and Azriel; what do you want to be for yourself, Cassian?”

What do you want? Cassian remembers her asking him a long time ago.

That… he doesn’t have an answer for. He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground. “I dunno,” he says, trying to sound flippant.

Looking up with a smile, he goes over to Nesta’s side of the bed and crouches at her side. “Who has time to think about all of that, anyway? I’m already happy doing exactly what I do.”

Still frowning, Nesta shifts on the bed so she can better face Cassian on the ground. “Do you really not know?” she says quietly.

Letting his smile drop, Cassian presses his lips into a wavery line.

She takes his face in her cold, thin hands, and he lowers his head onto her lap. A pounding has started up behind his eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” she says when he doesn’t speak. Her hand travels to the spot between his shoulder blades, and she pats his back in consolation. “You’ll find out. I’ll still be here when you do.”

He doesn’t lift his head, because if he does he might cry, so she keeps patting his back for a long while.

***

The next night Cassian finds himself in the kitchen, as he often does lately. The gnocchi for dinner is missing something, but he can’t tell what it is.

Swiping some pomodoro sauce from his wooden spoon with a finger, he goes over to the kitchen island and holds it out to Nesta. She licks it off his finger and says, “More cream,” before going back to her rant. “But really, does Eris want me to hurt him? Because if he keeps acting like this I’m going to physically hurt him.”

“You should do it if it makes you happy, babe,” Cassian says absentmindedly, more focused on checking the potatoes au gratin in the oven than on their conversation.

Two heavy, heart-attack worthy potato dishes on the same night, all because Nesta was in the mood for it. It sickens Cassian to think of the unhealthiness of it all, but these days it’s like he can’t stop himself from making food. It doesn’t matter whether the meal is fatty or not, as long as it tastes good enough for date nights.

By the time dinner is served and Cassian is settled in next to Nesta at the island, the topic of conversation has moved far away from Eris and law school.

“I used to be a fitness freak,” Cassian says mournfully as Nesta piles more and more cheese-covered potatoes onto his plate.

“Your abs look the same as the day I met you. You’ll be fine.”

Cassian didn’t even think about his abs. He presses a hand to his torso in worry. How long until those are gone, too?

“Eat.” Nesta shoves a fork into his hand and starts to dig into her own plate.

Cassian takes it reluctantly. “You know, this is bad for you too.” He realizes suddenly, “Have I been poisoning your health this whole time?” That’s even worse than the thought of losing his abs.

Nesta’s fork stops halfway to her mouth. The look on her face is disgusted enough to curdle milk, as if Cassian might change his mind and try to take her dinner away. She visibly swallows her feelings back and scoots closer to Cassian, spearing some of his gnocchi on her fork.

“Come on, we’ll clog our arteries together.” She pats his back the way she always does. “We’re here for a delicious time, not a long time.”

Cassian can hardly say no when he’s getting food shoved into his mouth without warning.

But despite his defeat with dinner, he’s joined by a sleepy and irritable Nesta the next morning in the home gym. She refuses to speak a word to him at such an early hour, but her compromise is loud and clear when she begins stretching and warming up. She’ll be here while he figures out whatever it is he wants to be for himself.

***

a/n: what do y’all think. is cassian overreacting, is nesta overstepping, or are they right and azriel is a menace who needs to be stopped (asking bc sometimes i cant tell when my mcs are being annoying)

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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a-room-of-my-own · 3 years

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A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory. For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting. RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a quote nicked from someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult- but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” .

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology. The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate.

Babies come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they get pushed out or dragged out into the world.

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia.

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named.

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this.

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance. Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth would be doing the best for the patient in front of them.

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk. They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia Appleby judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had defended against transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender, perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones.

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect.

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime on medication but not out of choice. Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.

Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having their rights taken away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s beautiful and strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body.

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge?

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #judith butler #suzanne moore

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

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What Happens in Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 1

Word Count: 4,885

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut, Drinking (all the good stuff)

Notes: Well here it is the new fic that’s been in my head. I tossed around a couple different guys for this, but some of you suggested Marky and well looks like it stuck. Trying to do this a little different and keep this in an all read POV, so we shall see how that works. I don’t see this being super long maybe between 5 or 6 parts. Hope you guys enjoy. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps but whoever 'they' is, well, they got it wrong. It has to be Vegas. Lights are always flashing whether you were indoors or out, the jangly sound of slot machines can be heard at all hours and the seven deadly sins seem to be on full display twenty-four hours a day. It's no wonder their tagline for years was 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' If only that were true.

You wish you could blame someone else but you can't. Vegas was all your idea. As maid of honor, it fell to you to plan your best friend's bachelorette party, and in your mind, there was only one spot, Vegas. Now, you were second-guessing your choice as your head was pounding like there were a thousand drummers who decided to perform at the Super Bowl halftime show, only in your brain. There was only one thought that made it through the marching band playing in your head. What the hell happened last night?

Maybe you should start off small, like where were you first, considering that the little drummer boy was now doing backflips in your head. You were definitely in bed, which was evident as you could feel the mattress underneath you. You could also feel the duvet comforter covering your body, but there was something else. Something a bit heavier, almost as if a weighted blanket was covering your stomach and your breast, but it wasn't that. It was an arm slung across your midsection and a very large hand cupping your one boob. God, you hoped it was still attached to a body. You should really take a peek. It would be the only decent thing to do.

As you gradually lifted one eyelid open, the first thing you noticed was that you were not in your hotel room, as the wall looked completely different. No reason to panic, you told yourself. Everything would come back to you as soon as this god blessed pounding ceased. Peering the other eye open, you got back to business at seeing if there was a body attached to the arm currently trapping you to the bed. Carefully, you turned your head to the side to see a very large and very naked man firmly attached to the aforementioned arm. He was gorgeous as he lay there sleeping ever so peacefully. You drank in his features, kind of like you downed drink after drink last night. His brown hair had this golden hue to it that made your fingers want to reach out and touch it, though you refrained. Then there was the beard covering his face, not too much and not too little, and now that you were thinking about it; you definitely felt some of that beard burn on your thighs. If you could only remember last night. The only logical thing to do was to go back to the start of this, back to a time when you were sober.

It started months ago when your best friend Kennedy got engaged. You honestly didn't see it coming that fast. She'd only been dating Ryan for a little less than a year, but he asked and she said yes, and when she asked you to be her maid of honor you screamed and laughed and cried, and told her you couldn't wait to plan her bachelorette party. Everyone knew the bridal shower was only for boring stuffy old aunts so that they could buy her the latest air fryer or new dish pattern. The bachelorette party was where all the fun was, and what better place to have it than Las Vegas.

Of course, everyone agreed with you. The only wrench in the plan was that Kennedy decided to up her wedding date and make it a nine-month engagement. That barely left time to find a dress let alone plan the most outrageous bachelorette party of the century. You would've said decade but twenty-twenty was fastly approaching. Thankfully, you had connections. Night one was more sedate since you all were just arriving at the MGM hotel at different times; eleven of you in total when Ryan's sister decided to join at the last minute. You booked a private room at Lago in the Bellagio for all of you to enjoy.

It was the second night, that was the piece de resistance. A limo picked you all up and took you over to Excalibur to see the legendary Australian group, Thunder from Down Under. I mean what was Vegas without seeing a male stripper or two. The next day, a private bungalow was waiting for you at Wet Republic in the MGM Hotel. One would've thought the night watching men strip naked would've been your undoing but apparently, it all started poolside.

"I seriously can't believe he pulled you up on stage and proceeded to dry hump you up there," Kelsey rehashed.

"Really, Kels?" Kennedy said downing another mimosa. "How could you not see that happening? (Y/N) has known Nate for a couple years. I mean he did get us front row tickets." This was all true. Nate, the emcee for Thunder from Down Under and you were friends, had been since your firm had done their calendar shoot two years ago. He had generously given you prime seating to the show that night and also set you up with a few other perks for the trip. "The only thing I'm surprised at, is that this one," she bumped you with her hip, spilling both hers and your mimosas. "Didn't end up going home with him last night."

"Oh my god, Kenny you did not just say that." She may be the bride and your best friend but really, she was pushing the line.

"Come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

At least four pairs of eyes turned towards you, Ryan's sister Gretchen being one of them. "Ok, admittedly, I slept with him, once." Both Kennedy and Kelsey gave you that look. "Ok, maybe it was twice, but he has a girlfriend now, and we are just friends."

"I'll give you that," Jade spoke up in your defense and suddenly she was going to earn the title of new best friend, not that the lines weren't blurred in your little group as you were all sort of best friends. "But what about Edward, the one with the turtle tattoo on his hip."

"You were so looking at more than his hip." Eva teased while Jade simply hid behind her champagne glass. "But yeah (Y/N), he was totally hitting on you."

"He was not."

"Oh, he was," Kennedy added her two cents. "And as the bride I take offense, they should've been hitting on me."

"Wait, why would they hit on you?" Jade sputtered. "You're taken bitch." Of course, bitch was said in the most loving way.

"I'm not dead."

"No, but I'm sure my brother wouldn't appreciate it." Leave it to Gretchen to be the mood killer. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'll meet you at the pool later."

She headed out the door, and honestly, you were ecstatic about it, for she was too judgmental for your liking. "Wait, Gretch, that's not what I meant."

"Leave her go, maybe a nap would do her good." They were Jade's words but your sentiments. "Now back to why (Y/N) did not take that beautiful man up on his offer last night."

"There was no offer," you insisted.

"Come on (Y/N), there was an offer. There's always an offer. Remember when you were doing promo for that Batman flick." You tried to shut Kennedy up with a death glare, but she continued to prattle on. "We all know you ended up doing the nasty with Superman."

"WHAT?!?!" Yeah, that definitely came out of the other nine people's mouths in the room.

"Thanks, Ken. No one knew that but you."

"Oops, my bad." She had the grace to at least be embarrassed about the whole thing.

"You mean you slept with that guy, the British one, tall, all muscular, extremely good looking. Damn it what's his name." You could see Eva wracking her brain for his name and you just didn't want to go there.

"Hen…"

"Yes, him," you admitted, stopping Jade before she could finish his name. "Can we please change the subject?"

"Why, when we are all living vicariously through you," Kelsey added. "Especially poor Kennedy, who is now committed to spending the rest of her life with one man."

"Geez, you make it sound like a death sentence. I love Ryan and I'm perfectly fine spending the rest of my days with him."

You had to suppress an eye roll. Not because you didn't think that Ryan and Kennedy weren't in love. If you were being honest, you just thought they were rushing things a bit. The problem was telling your best friend that; you tried in the past and never succeeded. "We know you're in love Kenny." And then because you couldn't stop yourself, you added. "It's just are you sure you want to be tied down so young? We still have our whole life to live."

"Jesus, (Y/N). We all know you're not ready for marriage and what comes with it, but we can't all be you with your fancy job in LA, meeting celebrities all the time. Some of us have real lives and want to settle down and have a family."

"Kenny, that's not what I meant." The last thing you wanted to do was argue with her at her bachelorette party. "I only want you to be happy."

"You have a funny way of showing it." The air in the room took on a chill and not from the air conditioning. If you didn't do something soon this party was going to go downhill.

"Oh, would you look at the time," Jade chimed in. "We should probably be heading down to the pool." Everyone grabbed their stuff, Kennedy giving you the cold shoulder as you made your way out of the hotel suite. Jade came up and wrapped an arm around you. "She'll be fine. She's just on edge after the whole Gretchen thing. We'll give her a few shots and you two will be good as new."

"I hope so." Unfortunately, things weren't fine. Kennedy seemed to avoid you and your attempt to make things right, even after a few shots. That didn't stop you from taking a few more. You had a strict one drink to one water rule, that you threw out the door today. Downing shots like it was your job. It was probably an hour later when you were in one of the private pools, with a few of the girls that a large group of very attractive men walked in. They were definitely different from Nate and the guys from Thunder, and at first, you thought it was some fraternity get together with how young some of them looked, but at second glance there were some gentlemen that were your age or older.

"They've gotta be baseball players," Eva whispered over after they took up residence in the three bungalows next to you.

"Nah, none of them have a dad bod." Jade was right, they were too fit to be in the MLB. You'd been around enough major leaguers to know while some were incredibly in shape, some were not. That didn't seem to be the case with this group.

"I'm gonna rule out NFL as well," you told the girls. "None of these guys look like they're an offensive guard. Those guys are huge." You noticed a few of them staring at the six of you that were in the smaller pool reserved only for the bungalows. Grabbing another shot, this had to be your fourth in just sixty minutes, you downed the drink really starting to feel its effects.

"Looks like we may just find out here," Jade said, nodding to let you know some of the guys were headed your way.

"Ladies, care if we join you?" One of the men asked, you had to admit he was extremely handsome but also gave off an air that he had more than a few notches in his bedpost.

A couple of the girls nodded, but when no one said anything, you found yourself saying, "Come on in."

"So, what brings you to Vegas?" This from a different guy, who had quite a number of tattoos covering his arms, and you had to admit that the ink just made him more attractive, that and his height. He was well over six feet tall and you didn't mind looking up to see his face as he took the seat next to you.

"Bachelorette party," Jade blurted out and you saw a few eyebrows raise.

"Tell me you're not the bride?" His breath was warm or maybe it was the sun, either way, you definitely felt a warmth in your belly that wasn't there moments ago.

"I am definitely not the bride." Shit that sounded desperate. "Though I am the maid of honor, at least I hope I still am." You looked inside the bungalow to see Kennedy in deep conversation with Gretchen.

"Hmm, sounds like there's a story there. Care to tell me? I'm Jacob by the way, though the guys call me Marky."

He held out his hand, the one that didn't have a beer in it, and you took it. "(Y/N), and I'll tell you though it's rather dull, on one condition." He quirked a brow at you. "You tell me what sport you play."

He chuckled. "What makes you think I play a sport? Maybe I'm an investment banker."

"Well, first there's your accent, though I suppose you could pull off investment banker with that. Second, you are all…how shall I say this…physically fit. A quality most athletes have and considering the number of you; I doubt this is some kind of investment banker convention."

"Ok, I'll give you that, though we could be bodybuilders or…" the lights on the billboard on the strip changed to a Thunder From Down Under ad and you saw a light bulb in his head go off. "Or male strippers." Shit, you almost spit your drink out on that one. "What, too much a stretch? Maybe it's your lucky day." He started to sway his hips in the pool, one of his friends joining him while you and Jade tried to contain your laughter.

"Nah, it's already been (Y/N)'s lucky day with them. She knows them all rather intimately."

"Jade!" you yelled at your friend, or ex-friend, though you weren't in a position to be losing anymore at the moment.

"Oops." She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Alcohol made everyone do some crazy things and Jade was no exception to the rule.

"Intimately huh?" Jacob asked as you splashed water on Jade causing her to shriek and hide behind Jacob's friend who you learned was someone named Erik. "Have I lost the competition before it even starts?"

"There's no competition."

"So, you're single then?"

"Yes, though you still haven't answered my question." As soon as Jacob heard you say yes, he slid a little closer to you.

"What was that question again?" He said with laughter in his eyes and before you could get annoyed with him, though you doubted that would happen, he added. "I remember, just giving you a hard time. Anyhow, we play hockey."

"Oh, nice. Like professional level? Or are there minors in that sport?" You really weren't one hundred percent sure. You'd taken in a game here and there but not really paid any particular attention to it.

"We're in the NHL, playing for Vancouver. Just came out to do a little team bonding before the season starts. So, are we going to talk about this intimate encounter or why you think your maid of honor duties are getting revoked?"

"I think I need another drink to talk about either of them."

Jacob flagged down one of the personal waitresses for the area, requesting a couple of shots and drinks for you both, and you had to admit you liked the way he worked. "Now that that's taken care of…"

You blew out a frustrated breath, more with yourself than anything else. "I said something stupid right before we came down here." He kept silent, his eyes totally focused on you and what you were saying. A refreshing change from some of the men you spoke to. "I just think she's rushing into things. They've only known each other a year and we are too young to get married. She's only twenty-five, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You know?" He simply nodded his agreement before you continued. "I want to see the world, go places, and do things before I'm strapped down to one man forever. Not to mention being tied down with kids. How can Kenny not want that too?"

"I totally agree. I've gotten to see a lot with hockey but there's no way I want to be tied down just yet."

"Exactly, you totally get me." Your drinks arrived then and Jacob took one shot and handed it to you before taking the other.

"Well, I say we toast to being young and free with no commitments."

"I'll drink to that." He clinked his glass to yours and the two of you downed the drinks. It seemed like the DJ noticed the change in your mood, as the music got louder and the energy seemed to kick up a notch. You got up and started to dance in the pool; the other girls joining in. It wasn't long before you felt Jacob behind you. His hips grinding into your backside, as his large hands encircled your waist.

Drinks flowed freely the entire day, and if you were being honest, you couldn't remember a time you'd been that drunk before the sun had even set. You were laughing and dancing, and quite literally having the time of your life; your maid of honor duties completely forgotten at this point. Gretchen came up to you at some point and told you that she, Kennedy, and Kelsey were heading up and would catch up with the rest of you later. Everyone else was having too much fun with the Canucks to want to leave.

A few more drinks and an hour later, the party was winding down. Most of your friends had headed up to their room to pass out, only a few stayed behind. Jacob had somehow maneuvered you into one of the bungalows that was empty. You shared a few kisses here and there out in the pool area, but now that you were out of view of prying eyes things were getting a bit more heated. Jacob's hands were on your ass, as his tongue was down your throat; not that yours wasn't doing the same thing to him. He moaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your core. Your bikini bottom was no longer wet from the water of the pool, but the press of Jacob's cock against it.

You both stumbled back, landing down on the large daybed in the bungalow, though somehow Jacob's reflexes softened your fall. His hands went straight to your breasts, kneading the flesh there. He was just about to untie the string of your bikini top when someone walked in. "Jesus, Marky! Take it upstairs would you!" You squinted trying to make out who it was but at this point not remembering anyone's name besides the man that was on top of you.

"Oh, shit…thought I was in my room." It was funny, you thought the same thing. "Sorry, Jay."

"His name is Jay? Like the letter?" you mumbled as Jacob helped you off the couch. "What comes after J?" Fuck you were drunk and when you were drunk you tended to ramble. You once actually talked to a damn parking meter because you thought it was a person, and you were pretty sure you could talk to one now if there was one around.

"Doesn't matter, babe," Jacob said kissing your lips. "Wanna head up to my room?"

You had to go up on your tiptoes to loop your arms around his neck. "Yes, I do." He planted a kiss on your lips then cupped your ass cheeks causing you to jump a bit.

"Let's go," he finally said breaking the kiss. You had enough sense to grab your things and tell your friends not to worry that you'd catch up with them tomorrow. They all winked and nodded or at least that's what it looked like in your head because that's when things started to get hazy. You had vague recollections of making your way through the casino, stopping here and there. Part of you thought that the two of you even stopped to play roulette only so you could have another drink.

You did remember tumbling through the door of Jacob's suite. His lips were on yours and neither of you were paying attention as he unlocked it. Thankfully his quick reflexes caught you; apparently, even when drunk, goalies couldn't lose some of those natural instincts.

His hands, you remember them being everywhere on your body, and how incredible they made you feel. His calloused touch lit a fire inside you, that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He rid you of your white swim cover-up easily, flinging the garment across the room, and then his lips were all over your body. It was easy to recall the way he made you feel, as he softly bit down on your nipple through the fabric of your bikini. You'd craved this all afternoon. It had been a couple months since you'd been with a man and Jacob was everything you'd been waiting for.

You ripped off his shirt. Your hands immediately going to his chest and roaming down his tattooed arms. He was all muscle, hard and lean everywhere, but when you slid your hand down inside his swim trunks to his cock; oh, it was hard all right, but lean was not a word you'd used to describe it. You were barely able to wrap your fingers around his girth, and as you stroked him, you realized God had not only blessed him with height but length as well. The man was made to star in a porno, you thought as you shoved his trunks down.

Somehow, during that time Jacob had managed to get your bikini top off, though you supposed with its simple string ties it wasn't a hard feat to manage. You dropped to your knees, licking your lips before taking your tongue and swirling it around the head of Jacob's cock. "Det kanns sa bra min vackra prinsessa (that feels so good my beautiful princess)." Jacob's mumblings had you pulling back and looking up at him. "Don't stop, baby." This time you knew what he said as you slowly sucked him into your mouth. There was no way that you could take him all in, so you pumped the rest of him with your fist. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him inside, using every trick in the book you knew. Jacob muttered more in Swedish to you, things you had no clue as to what they meant, but judging by his reaction they were things he was enjoying very much. He threaded his hands through your hair, pulling it back so you could look up at him with big doe eyes. "Jesus," he swore, his hips bucking into your mouth at the sight of you with his cock in it, looking like that. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out shouting," Tillrackligt, enough. I think you're trying to kill me, princess."

There was something about the way he called you princess. It wasn't anything you'd been called before and most times you'd preferred babe or baby, but the way the word rolled off his tongue did things to your insides.

Jacob helped you off the ground, his lips ghosting over yours before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. His large form handled you easily, arranging your body just the way he wanted to before slipping off your bikini bottoms. His large hands worked their way from your ankles to your calves, all the way up to your thighs; spreading your legs as he went. "So beautiful." He traced his fingers lightly over your pussy lips and you quivered in anticipation of what was to come. One long finger slid between your folds all the way up to your clit, once, then twice, and then once again. "So wet, prinsessa, and all because of me."

"Mmm, yes, Jacob." He dipped that same finger inside you then. The digit slipping in easily and so he added another. Then his mouth was there. Tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made you squirm with pleasure. "Oh yes," you moaned, caught up in the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. "Just like that." Your hips lifted up on their own accord, seeking more of what this giant of a man was doing to you. Jacob never let up, making a come-hither motion with his fingers and you found yourself unraveling around him; legs shaking, breath panting as your orgasm overtook you.

“So pretty when you cum, prinsessa.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy then brought them to your lips. You opened without any thought, licking your juices off of them. Before you could get them clean, Jacob’s mouth joined yours, kissing you while you sucked on his index and middle fingers. Your tongues mingled together, as Jacob positioned himself between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged between your folds and you sighed into his mouth at just that first touch. Slowly, he filled your pussy, until he bottomed out. Only then did he release your lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

Jacob loved the feel of you clenching around him. It felt like he was in heaven. Part of him didn’t even want to move that’s how good your body felt, but then you shifted your hips up just a hair bit and he had to suck in a breath at the pleasure that went straight to his groin for fear he would spend inside you right then and there. He willed his body under control and only then started to move.

With every snap of Jacob’s hips, a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, but it seemed to only spur him on. “Yes, Prinsessa,” he moaned out, as you bent your knees allowing him to go deeper. You moaned as he hit that treasured spot that had you seeing stars. “You like that?” Another moan was his answer, as he continued to fuck you.

That peculiar feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy fluttering around Jacob’s cock as the orgasm finally broke. Back arching, legs trembling, you were moaning out his name as the climax seemed to continue, as Jacob drove wildly into you. As you came down off your high, Jacob found his. With a few erratic thrusts, he was spending deep inside you with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his sweety forehead resting on yours. “Det dar var otroligt.” You looked at him curiously, your brain not working at all but also knowing he was speaking something in Swedish to you. He smiled, a glorious one that you found yourself getting lost in and you found yourself returning it. “I said that was amazing.”

“Yes, it was,” you breathed out. Jacob rolled you both onto your sides, tucking you into his. It wasn’t long before both of you were passing out.

Now here you were, finally putting most of the pieces together from last night. You looked back over at the sleeping man, who had given you such pleasure even in your inebriated state. He really was gorgeous. You honestly wouldn’t mind going for round two, after a couple of Tylenol, of course. Speaking of which you needed to get up and see if you had any in your bag. If only you could move him without waking him. You carefully took your right arm and went to move his left which was slung across you, but then something caught your eye. There on his ring finger was a ring. Oh, it wasn’t just any ring, it was a wedding ring! You knew he didn’t have it on when you were in the pool. You were not the type of woman to go hitting on a married man, let alone sleep with him.

You pulled your other arm out from underneath him, fully intending to grab your stuff and get the hell out of there when you noticed a bright and shiny diamond on your ring finger. There was also a matching wedding band. Then like a tsunami hitting the beach of a small island a memory came flooding back to you of the two of you entering the hotel chapel. This man wasn’t married to just anyone, he was married to you!

#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom smut #jacob markstrom imagine #jacob markstrom imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #what happens in Vegas series

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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Carlisle and theology

So, there are a lot of thoughts in this fandom on Carlisle’s brand of faith, and Carlisle seeing vampirism as inherent sin, and it’s time for this Christian philosophy nerd to butt in, featuring all the quotes.

First of, let me do my usual disclaimer - the Carlisle of the books is not the Carlisle of the movies. Carlisle of the movies believes he’s damned, because while the movie does mostly quote the conversation from the books, they cut him off halfway through, completely changing the meaning. Book Carlisle is making an argument, and his conclusion is the opposite: vampires have souls.

"Edward's with me up to a point. God and heaven exist… and so does hell. But he doesn't believe there is an afterlife for our kind." Carlisle's voice was very soft; he stared out the big window over the sink, into the darkness. "You see, he thinks we've lost our souls." (New Moon, page 20)

Later in the same book when Edward believes he has died and gone to heaven, his first words are: “Carlisle was right.”

So, book Carlisle doesn’t believe they’re all damned. If he did, creating others would be to damn them. If he had doubts about their souls and decided to risk it anyway, his “I made vampires” angst would be about their souls. It’s not:

"(Choosing to turn others) is the one part I can never be sure of. I think, in most other ways, that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life? I can't decide." (New Moon, page 21)

was it right to doom the others to this life.

He says nothing about their souls. His issue is the life they’re now living because of him: “was it right to turn others into bloodsucking demons, all of whom have a body count?”

Which is a very fair question, I’d be wondering that too. Edward, Emmett, Esme, and Rosalie are all murderers, they live in the constant pain of bloodlust, they must live in this very particular way or be nomads, and they’re not truly immortal, for sooner or later death will come in the brutal form of being torn apart and burned. Not to mention both Edward and Rosalie have very ambivalent feelings about what they became.

Carlisle wondering if turning them was the right call appears to have nothing to do with religion, and everything to do with the pragmatic reality of what it means to have created a vampire.

But if Carlisle doesn’t believe vampires are damned, what does he think then?

His backstory, admittedly told through Edward (who projects a lot onto Carlisle), is helpful.

His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again. (Twilight, page 160)

Carlisle had been raised to believe in witches and demons, eternal damnation for the wicked and the whole shebang. He wakes up a vampire and he knows what this means, he is now a senseless monster who kills people.

Well, turns out this isn’t the case. He doesn’t have to kill people. More, he still has his faith in God, which by protestant doctrine is what you need to enter Heaven. (This right here is one big bone I have to pick with fanon Carlisle. People keep ascribing a very Catholic brand of theology onto him, as he believes existence is sin and one must do penance. He’s Anglican, and Anglicans adopted Protestant doctrine. Protestant salvation comes through faith.)

Now, if his existence doesn’t automatically lead to sin, and if he is still in command of himself, able to believe in God and be devout, who’s to say he’s damned?

The urge to kill people remains present, of course, but humans are tempted to sin too. All of God’s children are tempted. (And yes, he did arrive at the conclusion that vampires are among God’s children. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe they had souls.)

Edward specifies that Carlisle created his own philosophy. As in, he didn’t just say “I don’t have to kill people, neat. Being a monster is still horrible, though”, he sat down and went full Zarathustra.

This is where my love for theology comes in.

Christian thought is founded on the relationship between God and Man. How Man is saved, the definition of sin, absolution, all of it - it’s all built on the supposition that Man is human. Well, Carlisle just found out that there’s God, Man, and Vampire - and potentially (Carlisle at this early point in time would still think witches and such were real) others as well.

He also learned that the notion of monsters being bound to sin, or having made deals with Satan, are also wrong. He never met the guy, he has his conscience, and he lives as morally as ever.

This invalidates pretty much everything he ever learned, and Carlisle’s sitting there in the English woods realizing the same thing Nietzsche later would when science challenged religion: he has to figure out Christianity from scratch.

I think Carlisle came up with his very own doctrine.

Edward outright says so: his new philosophy was born. We see Carlisle engage in all sorts of behavior completely contrary to anything a devout 17th century priest would have been doing. He associates with heathens like Aro, Amun, or the Amazonians, allows his family to be non-believers, considers fallen women like the Denali to be wonderful people and respects them as equals, he performs abortions, he allows material luxuries under his roof, he marries a woman who committed suicide.

There’s also the fact that his was a time full of alternate interpretations of Scripture. I won’t get into this part of European history, suffice to say that with Martin Luther’s 97 theses, the Christian world exploded with different sects and branches. Anabaptism, Calvinism, Quakers, Lutherans, the list just keeps going. It wouldn’t have been a foreign concept to Carlisle to sit down and say “Alright, who is God and what does He want from us”

I keep seeing Carlisle written as a Christian parody who cries because once when he was having sex with Esme in the dark some light entered the room and he saw her ankle, and now he thinks they’re both going to hell. And if we’re talking about the movies then sure, that guy seems the type. Book Carlisle is not this, and there’s nothing in canon to indicate as much, quite the contrary. (Yes, Edward is angsty about souls, but that’s not what Carlisle believes at all. It’s made clear over and over these two don’t agree on religion, so the argument that Edward somehow downloaded his religious angst from Carlisle defeats itself.)

It seems to me Carlisle came to the conclusion that sin is to take lives for pleasure, and that vampires are neither damned nor inherently sinful. This is the only action he appears to condemn, to view as sinful. Apart from that, he will kill to defend himself or others (the newborn battle and James), he’s pro-abortion, and he did not oppose Rosalie getting her revenge.

Apart from that I’m not going to extrapolate much, in part because that’d be hard to do when we don’t have a lot to go on and I’m not actually a theologician, and in part because this post is very long now. Feel free to ask if someone wants me putting on my philosophy hat and pretending I’m a vampire with a religious crisis.

(I will say this though: the notion of vampires being inherently sinful is just Original Sin in a hat. If Carlisle believes in it, then he also believes in Original Sin for humans, vice versa if he doesn’t. Doesn’t seem to be the case, but if it is then the vampirism by itself still isn’t any more damned than humanity.)

#carlisle cullen #long post #theology #religion #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #this was written because of my #pet peeve: badly written christian characters #thank god the star wars fans haven't realized how Christian the Jedi are #or the fanfiction would get ugly

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duskholland · 3 years

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The Fame Game (Epilogue) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Three years later, you and Tom are back at the Oscars.

Word count ↠ 3.3k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol mention, slightly suggestive but not really, lots and lots of fluff.

A/N ↠ I can’t believe we’re here! The epilogue! Thank you so much to everyone that’s supported me and the fic over the last three months :’) If you know me, you’ll know I really struggle committing to series, so the fact I made it here, without missing any updates, is something I’m very proud of tbh. I hope that you’ve liked the story :) The biggest thank you ever has to go to V, mischiefandi, for helping me so much in the early stages of this story... Thank you again for always listening to me <3 Additionally, a huge huge thank you to everyone that’s read, commented and sent in asks! I hope the epilogue doesn’t disappoint :)

POST-CREDITS SCENE: The Oscars: Take Two (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and with your hands grasped around two glistening trophies, you finally feel at home.

“Congratulations, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

You’re drawn away from your thoughts by the unmistakable voice of your friend Joe Keery. As you finally drag your eyes away from the golden Oscars in your hands, a smile splits across your face.

“Thanks, Joe,” you say, flashing him a blinding smile. “I still can’t believe it.”

Joe chuckles, eyeing your awards with pride in his eyes. “Two, eh?” He leans closer to elbow you, chuckling when you glare at him. “Not too shabby for your first year nominated.”

“Not too shabby at all.”

It’d been crazy - every single second of it. From the moment the nominations were announced, and you’d seen your name listed not only in one category but in two, you’ve been a whirlwind of nerves, excitement, and pride. You don’t think you’ve ever been as shocked as you’d felt when your name had been called out as the winner, not once, but twice tonight. Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, the latter of which was won for a performance in the same film which had brought about the evening’s Best Actor…

“And Tom?” Joe says, grinning. “Oscar-Winning couple, starring in a critically-acclaimed film together. Must feel pretty good, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you look down at your golden trophies. “I can’t believe it,” you mutter. “I really just… Can’t believe it.”

You feel a presence behind you, and then there’s the warm touch of a hand curling around your waist. You sink into it, tilting your head to the side, letting your eyes fall on Tom, your boyfriend. With a proud smile on his lips and his own golden award held in his free hand, he’s almost glowing tonight.

“Evening, Joe,” Tom greets. Finally comfortable at your side, he leans up and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. His deep cologne sweeps across you, and you bask in the familiar tones. “Good night?”

Joe nods. “Oh yeah,” he agrees, inclining his head towards Tom’s trophy. “Congrats, man.”

“Thank you.” Tom holds his award nearer his face, a deep frown line forming between his eyes. “I always thought it would be heavier?” He muses, running his thumb over the head of it. “But it’s pretty light. Look.”

What your boyfriend does next makes your blood turn cold. He easily and haphazardly throws his Oscar at Joe, who somehow startles in time to catch it, but not before letting out a stream of expletives.

“Tom!” You exclaim, eyes widening. “Don’t throw your Oscar around!”

He grins wickedly, brown eyes dancing. “Sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again. “Got a bit giddy.”

Tom’s been walking on air recently, you’ve noticed. You’d put it down to the buzz of nerves that’d characterised your last few days too, but even now, Tom’s vibrating with something. He’s been very affectionate with you, and whilst Tom is by no means a selfish lover, you can’t recall a time where he’s been glued to your hip quite as much as he’s been this last week. Always hanging around with open arms or warm lips or soft words, Tom has made it known, every second of every day, just how much he loves you. Which is a lot, apparently.

And you love him too, of course. You love him like you’ve never loved anyone else.

“You’re always giddy,” you tease. You manage to hold both of your trophies in one hand and use the other to reach up and tidy some of the hair from his face. Tom’s hair is longer now - less wavy and longer, grown a little older as the both of you have over the past three years. Looking at him now, you see a man - a very handsome, very loving man - and you’re proud of who he’s grown into.

“Only around you, love.”

Your lips roll into a soft smile, and you lean in to kiss him quickly. Tom’s mouth is warm against yours.

“Ew.” Joe’s voice interrupts your moment, and you pull away sheepishly. “Take your trophy and get out of here, you two.”

Tom reaches out and takes back his Oscar, giving Joe a fist bump. “Thanks, man. Have a good night.” There’s a moment where Joe and Tom look at one another, and Joe’s gaze flutters over to you, and you feel something there, between them - an unspoken secret. But before you can comment on it, Tom’s reaching out for your open hand and slipping his into it, and you’re moving off through the crowd again.

“I’m so tired,” you admit, stifling a yawn. You quickly smooth a smile over your face, noting with appreciation how the crowd of the afterparty seem to move out of your way. Your Oscars bring you a sort of power, and with three between you, it would seem that you and Tom are trading in top tier currency. “Can’t wait to get home and sleep.”

“Sleep?!” Tom exclaims, voice low. He squeezes your hand, glancing back to smirk at you. “As if.”

You raise your eyebrows as Tom guides you out the entrance of the party.

“What, you don’t think we’ll be sleeping later?” You ask, resting your cheek on Tom’s shoulder as you walk down the steps of the building together.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why’s that?”

Tom looks at you, eyes briefly flicking out over your figure. “You know why, darling.” He squeezes your hand before stepping nearer to kiss you. Your lips stay together a little longer, and you hum against his mouth. “You look bloody stunning in that dress, lovie,” he murmurs. His teeth brush your lower lip, and you feel your face warm. “Been thinking about ravishing you all night.”

You swallow, tilting your head to the side before kissing him again, briefly. “We’ll see,” you reply. You wink as you step back, turning around and looking out at the lines of cars before you make eye contact with your driver. “C’mon, winner. I don’t trust the house to still be standing. I still can’t believe you let Harrison and your brothers housesit tonight.”

Tom’s indignant as he follows you into the car, and for the drive back to your house in the Hills, you carry on your bickering. It’s interrupted by kisses and jokes and touches, though, and it’s all so familiar it makes your heart soar. He’s always kept you on your feet, and out of all the things that have changed since you got together, that fact has remained: no one makes you feel as intensely riled up as Tom.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted them to housesit,” you muse. The gravel of the driveway crunches beneath your feet as you walk up towards your house, wobbling a little in your heels. Tom offers you an arm, and you gratefully loop yours through it, your hands still holding your awards. You’d only brought a bag big enough to hold one Oscar, not two. “It’s not like anyone was going to break in. We have security.”

Tom just clears his throat, the sound deep and guilty. “Harrison’s idea,” he says, quickly. “They wanted to be nearer the action.”

“Yeah, or they wanted to use the wine cellar.”

Before you can continue your conversation, the front door opens and Harrison pokes his head out, eyes widening as he looks down at the trophies in your hands.

“Aye!” He calls out, clapping loudly. “Congratulations, you two.”

As you enter the house and ditch your coat and shoes by the door, there’s an interlude in which you pass around your awards and receiving raucous applause from your friends. Harry and Sam pose dramatically in front of the staircase, fighting over which one of them gets to carry two of the awards, and you hold up a phone, taking photos of it all. In the corner of the room, you see Harrison pulling Tom aside and whispering something into his ear. Before you can pay them much attention, you’re distracted by Harry deciding to try and balance Tom’s Oscar on his head.

It’s very wholesome, and you and Tom end up coerced into another series of photos together. It’s less formal than it was at the show, and Tom sheds his suit-jacket as you enjoy posing without the strain on your feet from your heels. Harrison barges in too, and then there’s a round of shots with all five of you together, laughing, talking, messing around.

On their way out, both Harry and Sam pull you in for hugs, and then Harrison takes your hands and looks at you, hard. There’s a seriousness to him that you’ve never seen before, and tears form in his eyes as he splutters out a quiet,

“I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Harrison,” you whine, feeling a lump in your throat. “Don’t make me cry again.”

“Sorry.” Your friend drops one of your hands and rubs at his eyes, laughing softly. “I’m just proud of you - both of you. You deserve this so much and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

You sniff loudly, cursing softly when you feel a stray tear fall down your cheek. “Thanks, Haz,” you mutter, pulling him in for a hug.

You leave Harrison with Tom as your guests leave, and walk into the living room to collapse on the sofa. You groan as you let yourself relax, sinking into the cushions. Something of an adrenaline high crashes over you, and suddenly the thought of crawling into bed and sleeping the night away sounds very tempting.

“Y/N,” Tom says, startling you. You open your eyes and find your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling softly. He rocks back on his feet, briefly biting at his lower lip. “Come with me.”

You look at his inviting hand sceptically.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You hum, reaching up and taking his hand in yours. You glance at your wrist, noticing with fondness in your eyes how nice his watch looks wrapped around your hand. Over the years, you’ve made a habit of always trying to keep something of his to hand - his watch, his hat, his sunglasses. It doesn’t matter the occasion - you always like to carry something with you that reminds you of Tom. It works vice-versa, and you know that beneath Tom’s dress shirt hangs one of your favourite necklaces.

Your friends think it’s sickeningly romantic. You think it’s cute. Tom loves it.

“What do you mean, a surprise?” You ask, following Tom through the house. He’d moved into your LA home two years ago, his mark evident in the fluffy throws and the various stains on the walls.

Tom shrugs, rolling his thumb over the back of your hand. He leads you upstairs. “A surprise,” he repeats. “Stop asking so many questions, darling.”

You rest your head on Tom’s shoulder, sighing happily. “You’re very romantic, you know that?”

Tom chuckles, pausing outside your closed bedroom door. He looks nervous, and he drops your hand to run his hand through his hair.

“Right.” He stops, clearing his throat, hand shifting to the doorknob. “In here.”

You wait a moment for him to do something, but he doesn’t. “Are you going to open the door?” You ask, teasing, but reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Tom shakes his head, a bright smile finally finding his lips. “Crazy night.”

“Definitely.”

Tom turns around and finally opens the door, stepping aside and inviting you inside. A soft gasp falls past your lips as you walk into the bedroom and take in the scenes around you.

Someone’s been in your room since you were flurrying around eight hours earlier, tearing your wardrobe apart before the show. It’s been cleaned, the bed made and spread out with a few rose petals, and the lights are dimmed down low. The doors to the balcony are open, and through them, you can make out a large stand with a bottle of champagne.

“Tom!” You gasp. You turn around, jaw slackening further as your boyfriend procures a large bouquet of roses. The plastic crinkles as you accept them gratefully, taking a long breath and inhaling the deep romantic scent.

“Thought I’d do something nice for you,” he says, closing the door behind him. Tom smooths his hands over your waist, standing behind you and kissing up your neck as you laugh softly. “Come out to the balcony, love,” he murmurs, teeth brushing your ear.

“Was this why you had the others come over?” You ask, smiling.

“Mhmm.”

You pause to put the roses in a vase, and then let Tom wind his hand in yours and pull you out onto the balcony. It’s beautiful out here in the Hollywood Hills, and as he pours out two glasses of champagne and passes you a flute, you lean with your elbows on the railing and stare out across at the city. Shrouded in darkness, the city pulses with bright lights and distance car horns. There’s a warmth to the air that brings a smile to your lips, and a few strands of your hair drift around as the evening breeze caresses your face.

“Funny, isn’t it?” You say, closing your eyes. Tom’s just beside you, one of his hands resting over yours. He plays with your fingers before linking your pinkies together.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the first time you were out here with me?” Tom releases a short hum, and you take that to mean the negative. “Well, it was back when I hated you. You came and you picked me up from set, and then you stayed the night. We came out here and we took photographs together.”

“Of course.” There’s mirth in his voice, and the sound of his familiar accent brings a smile to your face. You lean your head on his shoulder, looking back out across the city. “That was the first time we ever talked properly, too. I remember realising you weren’t that horrible, after all.”

You gasp. “Oi!”

Tom nudges your side. “Hey, you know you felt the same way about me too.” He turns slightly, and you feel the soft press of his lips against your temple. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

You hum, grinning. “A very long way.”

There’s a moment’s rest, then Tom kisses your forehead again and steps away from you. You whine at the loss, but continue to look out at the city, resting your chin in your palms. You’re aware of him walking over to the table with the champagne, but you’re too distracted by the distant flickering lights to pay much attention to him.

“I love you a lot, you know,” Tom calls out, voice wavering. He clears his throat, and you smile to yourself.

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too.”

“No, I love you, a lot.” Again, Tom clears his throat. You decide to turn around, your eyebrows furrowing as you realise you can’t see him, but then your eyes travel down, down, down, and you spot him.

Tom is down on one knee, brown hair wafting in the gentle evening breeze, holding a black velvet box in his hands.

“Tom?” You whisper, voice hoarse. Tears pool in your eyes and your heart drums in your chest as you realise what’s happening.

“Y/N,” he returns, a soft smile finding his lips when he meets your eyes. “I love you.” Tom glances down at the ring, chuckling. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but picking the right time has been so hard. So, I thought, hey, we’ve already won big tonight, why not add onto the excitement.”

You fan at your face, exhaling a deep breath.

“We have been through thick and thin together, and I am so, so glad that we came out the other side stronger for it. Your ambition and your drive make me want to be a better person, and every time I wake up beside you, it makes me want to be a better man, too. You make me better, and I love you for it.” Tom breaks off, eyes sparkling with tears as he looks up at you, meeting your gaze firmly. “I have never been more sure of anything else before. I know there’s nothing else I’d want to do than to spend the rest of my life with you. So… Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You can barely still see him, through the tears in your eyes, but you nod. You nod, and then you fall down to your knees in front of him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Tom,” you get out, voice thick with emotion. “I love you more than anything.”

Tom puts the box aside and pulls you closer, and you share a kiss that rocks your world. Both of you are smiling, and it’s clumsy and salty, but you don’t care as you kiss him again and again, your hands winding into his hair. He is so perfect, absolutely perfect, and you have never felt this whole before.

“I love you so, so, so much, darling,” he says, speaking against your lips. You chuckle, humming your agreeing sentiments before kissing him again.

“I love you too.” You finally pull back, shifting your lips to brush against his nose before you glance down at the box. You grin, holding up your left hand as you wiggle your eyebrows.

“If you don’t like it, we can always get a different one,” Tom prefaces, his hands shaking as it takes him a few attempts to pull the ring from the velvet bed. His fingers are warm against yours, soft and gentle as he slides the band up your finger. Your eyes catch on the beautiful sparkling diamond, and you feel a tear roll down your cheek. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” you say, rolling your thumb over the ring. You look up at Tom, wide-eyed and warm-hearted. “I think you’re perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks aching from the width of your smile. “You’re so cliché, Tom,” you tease, moving back to kiss his cheek. Your hands go to his shoulders, engagement ring glinting. “Are you going to be like this forever?”

Tom smiles, adoration floating in his bright brown eyes. “If you want me to be, yes.”

His lips find yours for one final time, and you bask in the feeling of him so close to you. After so long together, it feels like your souls have finally intertwined. Tom’s buried himself so deeply into your heart, into your life, that you know you’ll never get him out. You know you’d never want to.

“I love you,” you whisper. “Thank you for changing my life.”

His palm travels up to cup your cheek, warm fingertips stroking over your cheekbone. “It’s been my pleasure.”

FINIS.

extended a/n:

thank you for reading the series, dear reader--the full thing is 59k! go you for getting through that much of my writing! I appreciate your time and willingness to enter this ‘verse with me <3

if you’ve got any thoughts on the series, please let me know! doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the series ended, I am always always always here to talk about these two :’)) would love to know what you think of their story!

we had a tfg blurb night! if you want to read any little extra bits, check out the masterpost for that here :)

#Tom Holland Oscar-Winner 2021 I’m calling it #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #im not crying you're crying #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #this is the definition of fan service just i am the fan servicing myself #if anyone notices the direct parallel to the prologue lmk lmao im proud of that one

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

Hawks would go FERAL if he saw his girlfriend in his clothes. He would go absolutely wild that man has a claiming/marking kink for SURE

Oh absolutely. You technically didn’t request I write this but you also knew what you were doing dropping this in my ask box so HERE WE GO. I wrote this instead of finishing the next part of Official Accounts oops

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni

Contains mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, mutual masturbation, light dom/sub tones, minor cumplay

Maintaining a relationship as a pro hero is hard. Maintaining a secret relationship as a pro hero is even harder. You understand that being a top hero comes with a certain level of fame but if one more fanboy or creepy reporter hits on you, you are going to scream. Not to mention the legion of fan girls constantly screaming after your boyfriend. You get it. Hawks is hot. It’s part of why you date him, but did they really need to mob him every time he was in the vicinity? Needless to say jealousy was not uncommon in your relationship but the two of you had learned to deal with it over the past couple years. Deal with it frequently meaning putting on the best poker face you could muster until you got home and were able to take out your frustrations in a way that was fun for both of you.

You could already tell today was going to be a long day. You had just gotten back from an early morning patrol and just when you wanted to pass out for a much deserved nap you’d instead been told you had to give an interview on the opposite side of town. So instead of napping you had caught a cab to the other side of town and dragged yourself to the studio, only to discover your least favorite reporter would be giving the interview. The interviewer was an attractive man in his late 20s who clearly was unaccustomed to being told no. It didn’t matter how many times you explained you weren’t interested, the man always flirted with you at every opportunity. In a version of reality where pro heroes could punch out interviewers without reproach, you would have taught him a lesson by now, but your temper had got you in enough trouble with the HPSC already this year.

You sit down for the interview and immediately you can tell the interviewer won’t be keeping things professional. It’s live so you can’t do anything in the moment but grin and bear it. By the time the interview is over he’s managed to put his hand on your thigh twice, make an inappropriate comment about your hero costume three times, and imply the two of you should date at least five times. You hate him. The minute the cameras stop rolling, without dropping the polite smile from your face you remove his hand from your thigh and tell him “If you want to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit I’d reign it in,” before storming off the set.

Finally, finally you get to go home. You immediately take a hot shower to wash off the sweat from patrol and the gross feeling from the interview. What you really want right now is your boyfriend, but Hawks is still working and probably will be for a while so you settle for throwing on one of his shirts with nothing underneath but a pair of underwear. You flop onto his side of the bed, burying your nose in his pillow to catch his lingering scent, and immediately fall asleep.

Hawks is irritated. He’s irritated because it feels like work has kept him from having quality time with you lately. He’s irritated because he saw your interview today. He’s irritated because he couldn’t even explain fully to Mirko why the interview had pissed him off so much. He’s irritated because he never should have come up with the idea to keep your relationship a secret and he’s irritated because you never should have agreed. None of these things are truly your fault though so when he finally gets home Hawks fully intends to just cuddle you to sleep and let you complain about how shitty your day was. Honest! He had not accounted for finding you curled up on his side of the bed wearing little other than his shirt.

You wake up from your nap to find your boyfriend lurking in the doorway to your room staring at you. You sit up and drowsily rub the sleep from your eyes. “What’re you doing just standing there Kei? Hurry up and come to bed,” you whine. You were not expecting him to groan “fuck,” before all but lunging towards you. Adrenaline surges through you immediately, the notion of sleep banished completely from your thoughts as suddenly Hawks is pinning you to the bed. You can feel his erection pressing against you but before you can ask what has triggered such a reaction he’s already got a hand in your panties, his thumb finding your clit with practiced ease. “Shit, Keigo, slow down,” you gasp as you grip the bedsheets tightly but he pays you no mind as his middle finger slides inside you. “God you’re so fucking wet for me. Look so fucking beautiful like this, you know that?” he groans.

You can’t even form a coherent response as he slides another finger inside you, dragging them along your inner walls in exactly the way he knows you like. Your hands move from the bed to his back and it’s only then you realize how much clothing he’s still wearing. “Clothes. Off. Now,” you manage to pant out and Keigo nods in acknowledgment. When he withdraws his fingers it’s all you can do to not whine at the loss of stimulation. He quickly sheds his coat and shirt, and for a moment you’re mesmerized by the wild look he has in his eyes and the haste with which he strips off the layers of his hero costume. As he’s finally moving to undo his pants you move to take off the shirt you’re wearing but immediately he’s back on you and pinning your hands above your head. “Don’t. Shirt stays on,” he practically growls and it sends shivers straight down your back and into your groin. “Ok,” is all you manage to say as he moves to press a bruising kiss to your neck. He doesn’t stop until he’s left at least a couple hickeys there, then he moves his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I want you to do something for me (y/n),” he whispers as he releases your hands and instead moves to slide your panties off. “I want you to touch yourself for me. Can you do that baby? I wanna watch you play with yourself in my shirt,” he continues and you’re already nodding before you’ve even fully processed the request.

He leans back to watch as you obediently bring one hand down to your aching sex. Your legs instinctively fall open to allow you better access as you slowly begin to rub along your folds before pressing small circles into your clit. You can hear Hawks curse under his breath as he quickly removes his pants and boxer briefs but that only spurs you on more. You truly are a sight to behold as you deftly insert two fingers inside of yourself, your nipples so hard they’re visible through Keigo’s shirt. He drinks in every lewd inch of you, wanting to commit the image to memory as he finally wraps a hand around his thick shaft. He’s not going to last long. He can tell by the way his dick is already weeping precum and he hasn’t even started moving his hand yet. He doesn’t mind at all though as he watches you squirm underneath him. He forces himself to wait until he can tell you’re getting close to climax. Only then does he allow his hand to start moving.

“Fuck Keigo I’m so close,” you moan, and it takes everything in him not to shoot his load right then. “Me too baby, me too. Let’s cum together, ok?” he moans back. “Ok.” “Ok. Fuck! God you look so hot so fucking beautiful right now,” he groans as the two of you continue to push towards climax, each egged on by the other’s performance. It seems to last both a lifetime and only a moment before finally you’re both rushing headlong into orgasm. Keigo quickly shoves his shirt further up your body to reveal your torso so he can paint it white with his release. As the high finally fades he collapses down next to you and you both just sit there for awhile to catch your breath.

“Kei can you get me a towel? I’m too lazy to move,” you finally ask once the two of you have recovered somewhat. You get silence back. “Kei?” you try again. “Can you leave it for a little bit? I promise I’ll give you the best bath ever afterwards,” he asks sheepishly. You can’t help but fondly roll your eyes. “So territorial,” you tease, “but fine. It better be one hell of a bath though.” “Thanks baby,” he smiles as he pulls you close and brings the covers up around the both of you. “The hickeys are gonna be a bitch to try and cover up in the morning though,” you sigh. “Then don’t cover them. It’s about time the world knew you were mine anyway,” Keigo says. “You sure about that?” “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life.”

#this got real outta hand real quick #enjoy #hhrequests #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hopeless.olivia #hopeless.thirst

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thexfridax · 3 years

Text

Wynonna Earp Boss Hopes Syfy Finale Made You Feel 'All the Things' — Plus, Scoop on One Happy Wedding Accident

By Matt Webb Mitovich, tvline.com / April 9 2021, 8:02 PM PDT

The following contains spoilers from the Syfy finale of Wynonna Earp.

After four years of protecting Purgatory with her Peacemaker, Wynonna Earp got to quite literally ride off into the sunset. And she did so while straddling a motorcycle, with Doc Holliday seated behind her.

Mind you, the two almost didn’t wind up together. Following the simply beautiful “WayHaught” wedding, Doc (played by Tim Rozon) was determined to put Purgatory in Charlene’s rear view mirror and get to living life as “just a man,” and Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) felt compelled to stay put as Purgatory’s protector. But with an empowering nudge from li’l sis Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), Wynonna caught up to her man and professed her love, after which they decided to travel light, for the first time in a long time, and pay their daughter Alice a visit in MIracles, Montana.

TVLine spoke with series creator Emily Andras about crafting this very fine finale, at least one “happy accident” that wound up stirring many emotions, and more.

TVLINE | The finale has just aired…. What emotions do you hope the fans are feeling at this moment?

Just head-to-toe body warmth, and love, and affection, and wistfulness…. And a little bit of bittersweetness. I feel like joy has to be paired with nostalgia, so I hope they’re feeling all the things. But hopefully not hungover!

TVLINE | At what point over the years did you ever envision Wynonna and Doc riding off into the sunset?

Ahhh! I almost never even let myself envision it, you know? It’s so funny — when you start doing a show, you have all sorts of ideas about what pairings are going to rise to the top, who’s going to end up with whom, and one of the joys of Earp is that so many different things have happened. But those two characters have certainly earned the chance to try to be happy, whatever that means to them. I never knew that I would be allowed to end such a romantic pairing with the woman driving the motorcycle and the guy on the back.

TVLINE | I’m watching that final sequence and it almost feels alien, seeing the two of them head off into what I think of as “the real world.” But I also found that viscerally exciting, to see so much ahead for them.

That’s so lovely, thank you for saying that. I feel like having the world ahead of them and being such an unusual couple, I would love to see what happens next for them. I’m sure there will be lots of crazy sex and crazy arguments and crazy laughter. So, godspeed! Godspeed.

TVLINE | When throwing a season-ending wedding, what is Emily Andras’ marching order? “Above all else, this wedding has to be…”?

It has to honor to all of the characters — and by that, I mean it has to try to find a moment for every special pairing on the show, not just WayHaught. I think it’s important to pay due respect to how far Waverly and Doc have come; she never gave up on him, she always saw a better man in him — and now he gets to be the best man! Nedley (Greg Lawson) and Nicole’s (Kat Barrell) relationship, that paternal/daughter bond is so special, so honoring that was very important.

And at the end of the day, I still think the real love affair of the show is the Earp sisters, so I ended to make sure that that was honored. I really love the parallel with the pilot, where Wynonna came into town against her will and was so hungry to leave but was forced to stay. And now you have Waverly secure enough in how their relationship has evolved, that she knows Wynonna deserves to leave again — because she’ll come back.

More than anything, it was about giving every character a moment of happiness. Even Jeremy (Varun Saranga) becoming deputy chief of Black Badge and maybe finding a new date…. It was all about finding everyone a moment of potential joy, after they’ve gone through so much after four seasons.

TVLINE | Talk about the decision to have empty guest chairs laid out with the names of those who are no longer with us or didn’t make it to the wedding.

That was such a happy accident. We were on-set, it was very much in the middle of the pandemic, and we knew we were going to have a limited number of people for the wedding. But then we put out chairs so you could understand where the aisle was, and they looked really empty. So my incredible director, Paolo Barzman, who also did the pilot, and my art director Trevor Smith, pitched this idea to me. I had sort of joked about, “Wouldn’t it be cool if you had the ghosts of characters past?” In the moment, they said, “What if we hung names on the chairs?” and it was just one of those goosebump moments, like, “That’s brilliant.” So then we have people writing up these cards, rushing them out, and it’s honestly one of my favorite things. Whenever I see that Dolls chair, I just can’t help but feel things.

TVLINE | But Mercedes (Dani Kind), to be clear, is still with us.

She’s just out, like, being her best vampire self. She’s out being an amazing vampire, yeah. I still have that spinoff if you want to help me sell that!

TVLINE | If anything caught me a bit off-guard, it was us getting a song from Rachel (played by Martina Ortiz-Luis).

The thing about Martina is that she is a phenomenal singer. She is the anthem singer for the Toronto Maple Leafs — so she’s quite a star here! — and she was on Pilipinas Got Talent back in the day…. It seemed like a waste to not have someone with such an exceptional voice perform! And what better song to lay over the necessary wedding montage than a WayHaught classic (Fleurie’s “Wildwood”), the song that was playing the first time WayHaught kissed. It’s a bit of an Easter egg for those hardcore WayHaughters!

TVLINE | I don’t think anyone would have ever felt like a “Dark Angel Waverly” detour was missing, if you hadn’t spent time on it the episode prior. Why did you feel it was important to go there during one of the final hours?

The truth of it is that honestly we’ve been balancing the spectre of whether we were going to have a Season 5 or not. When we started breaking Season 4 two years ago, we were looking down the barrel of about 24 episodes, so [when you get half that] you’re like, “What are we going to keep, and what are we going to pitch overboard? What can we live without learning about?” I would argue that this idea of Waverly having a darkness inside of her did have to be highlighted after four seasons. I completely agree that in a perfect world I could have done eight episodes of Dark Angel Waverly, exploring that and seeing it come to pass. But if we ever get more story, I don’t know if Waverly has complete control over that part of herself. I dont think it’s “gone.” If Nicole puts mayo instead of mustard on her sandwich, who knows what’s going to sprout out!

TVLINE | I mean, if only to see what other outfits Dark Waverly has.

As long as she keeps her thigh holster, she’s ready to go.

TVLINE | Looking back at these last few episodes, what are you most proud of?

‘m so proud of this cast. It’s so boring, but God, just to see them grow and thrive and shine…. performing comedy and emotion, seeing their commitment to the show, and the feelings…. It’s just been such a joy to see such an amazing group of people get their due. They really are that wonderful, off-screen as well.

I’m also pretty happy — in this day and age, and despite all the fights the show has been through — that if this is the end, I feel like that’s a pretty nice finale, a pretty good topper on the cake. I feel like the fans will feel like they went on a journey, and they left the characters in an interesting, good place. And look, that’s really rare in TV, to end your story the way you want. How can I be anything but grateful, at the end of the day?

TVLINE | When I was writing my tweet the other morning, I wanted to call it a “very fine finale,” but I worried you’d think I was saying it was only “fine.” But it was a very fine finale!

No, you have to keep me hungry! You get to challenge me, Matt. Listen, I just didn’t want to risk…. I’m the queen of 75 cliffhangers, but I feel like the fans have worked so hard for us, for so many years, that it was more important that they got closure, just in case. But there’s always another demon, there’s always another thing to trigger Dark Angel Waverly. There’s always more story, but at least you have this, no matter what.

TVLINE | And if some network or streamer does ride to the rescue, would there be something that brings Wynonna and Doc back to Purgatory? Or might a Season 5 be without the two of them?

Look, the show is called Wynonna Earp, so you need Wynonna Earp. She’s still the champion, she’s still got the magic gun and the best hair on the show — sorry, everyone else!

There are a couple of unresolved issues. We still have Eve, who we kicked out the the Garden very early in the season, and who can kind of shapeshift; she could take on the appearance of any one of our characters! That would certainly throw a wrench in the works in Purgatory. There are a million different reasons to bring Wynonna back, to help out her sister.

TVLINE | And lastly, was there anything you had to cut or just didn’t have room for, or any returning cast you couldn’t fit in?

Oh, tons. But look, you kind of hit the nail on the head earlier. I’m always striving to be better, and some stuff at the end felt a little rushed, with Dark Angel Waverly. I think if it hadn’t been a pandemic, there would have been more people at that wedding. I would have loved four more episodes to round the bend there. But look, that’s Wynonna Earp, man — perfectly imperfect! So that’s what we did, and what a ride it’s been. The ride of a lifetime for me.

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Nemesis - Part 5

I wasn’t going to write this the same day as Villainsicle, but I just got so excited with the cliffhanger from last time!

At long last, it’s time for Hero to make their move.

In accordance with the votes from last time, Hero is going to keep up the ruse, and keep pretending to be Director.

CW//Mentions of recreational drugs/marijuana, forced sedation, medical setting, stretchers, IVs, talk of death/execution

When Hero met the team they had been newly assigned to, it had only been Teammate who had smiled.

It had been a few days, now, since that somewhat awkward meeting. The same sentiment had continued, however. While the rest of the team seemed merely to tolerate their new member, Teammate had been warm, welcoming.

So, it only seemed to reason that when Hero finally moved into their new dorm, it was Teammate who was giving them the mini tour.

“It’s not much.” The door creaked as it swung open on its hinges. Hero struggled to see the room within, peering their head over the precarious stack of boxes held in their hands. “But, it’s yours. Um, feel free to put your stuff down.”

Hero nodded gratefully, placing their luggage on the bed as Teammate began to gesture about.

“That’s, uh, well that’s obviously the bed. You sleep on a bed, right? Or do you use some kind of like, dog bed? Sorry, that was stupid.”

Hero snickered.

“No, no, you’re fine. I do sleep on a human bed.”

“That’s good, cause it’s the only kind we’ve got. So, yeah. That’s the bed. That’s the bathroom, through the door. That’s the dresser, feel free to use that for, clothes and stuff.”

“What about that door?”

“Oh.”

Teammate moved over to said door, sliding it open, revealing an empty closet that stood several feet deep.

“We’ve all got these. It’s just a closet.” They smiled. “I don’t know why they’re so big like that, but, hell, you could have someone live in there, I bet. It’s big enough, no one would ever notice.”

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“Friend. I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gritted their teeth, gaze meeting that of Head Doctor. A warm smile replied to with a tense, nerve-wracked countenance.

For the briefest moment, Hero stood in a university building, hostages behind them, and a faceless nemesis before them.

Their tongue flitted over their teeth. They didn’t bother with an accent, there was no way they would have been able to keep it up. Their normal, stupid voice would have to do.

“I missed you, too. I apologize for dropping by so suddenly. Everything is just great, thank you.”

Head Doctor’s brow furrowed, their jaw twisting a moment as they gnawed on the inside of their cheek.

“Friend, your voice sounds different. Are you alright?”

“Yes, do not worry yourself. My allergies are acting up terribly today.”

“Are you certain that it is only allergies? You sound like a kid, again. Here, if you have a moment, perhaps we can go to my office. I’m not too busy, right now.”

“No, no, that won’t be needed.”

“I insist.”

Hero gulped, hoping only that it was not visible. In their ear, a nerve-wracked Hacker’s voice chirped:

“Y- you’re, uh, you’re the director, right? Just, like, order him to shut up!”

Opening their mouth, Hero sputtered, but managed to make out the words:

“If I was worried about my voice, I would tell you.” Their nerves turned rapidly to fury. “I didn’t come here to be berated. I have a- a meeting in an hour. I came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to chat.”

Hacker’s snickering only made Hero’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“O-Oh. I apologize, Director. We will just have to be friends off the clock, then.”

“Certainly.”

“What is it that I can help you with, then?”

Every piece of Hero’s body insisted for them to flee, to quickly make their excuses, duck out the door, and get out of this stupid suit. They could go home, go to their dorm, go smoke pot with Teammate. Everything would be okay, and they would never have to think about this place, or Villain, or Hacker, or any of it, ever again!

It would be so easy. They were risking everything, throwing it all away, and for no reason.

Leaving would be so simple, and yet...

If they left Villain here, they knew they would never sleep again. For the briefest moment, they were glad that they had never had much in the way of impulse control.

“My charge.” Hero turned, gesturing to where a twitching Villain sat, prostrate upon their hospital bed. “This is them, yes?”

“Villain? Yes.”

“Good. I will be taking them with me, then.”

Head Doctor’s expression of uncertainty turned to one of an agape jaw.

“I don’t- If you would like them to be moved to another facility, we can certainly arrange that, but-”

“That’s not what I said, is it? I have a car, here. I will be taking them with me.”

“Sir, are you absolutely certain? By your own order, they are on a very strict regime of medications. Removing them from the IV- It could be disastrous.”

Hero felt their stomach drop to their feet. Stupid! They hadn’t even thought about that, oh god, oh god. This stupid plan, it was going to kill Villain, wasn’t it? Maybe? Hell, they weren’t a doctor.

Even if it did kill them, though...

Did it really matter? As if they were really alive, right now.

“I am well aware of that!” The tone of their own voice nearly made Hero jump. “I have another facility set up, again, on my orders. They will be taking over care, from now on.”

“We have a transport vehicle for this very situation, Sir.”

“Not for this very situation, no. This is not a normal transfer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a highly classified matter. There is no driver in our employ that I can trust to manage this transfer, and thus I will handle it myself.”

“Oh.” Head Doctor frowned, as though a black-hued light bulb had turned on above their crown. “Sir if... If you want them disposed of, I agree that this may not be the best facility to arrange that, but we do have facilities that can perform that procedure.”

Hero bit their tongue with enough force to draw blood.

“I will arrange it myself, Head Doctor. I assure you, everything has already been worked out. Are you going to keep standing in my way, or do I need to bring in security?”

Head Doctor shook their head quickly.

“That won’t be necessary. What do you need?”

“Their IVs removed.” Even before Hero finished their phrase, the doctor was already at their patient’s bedside, withdrawing tubes from veins. Villain took in a sharp, shuddering breath. “And a transport stretcher prepared.”

“I assume you would like them to be restrained, too?”

“How long should the medications keep them down for?”

“Another twelve hours, maybe.”

“That will be more than enough. Don’t hassle yourself.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Hero’s legs moved like those of a newborn deer as they backed away towards a wall, leaving room for the orderlies and nurses to scurry about like an ant colony.

Some part of their mind, twisted by adrenaline and anxiety, could not help but remind them of the moment in their childhood when they had adopted a dog. The hurried, overworked vets, scurrying about the animal, checking vitals and microchips.

The dog had had no say in the matter. And, in this matter, Villain had no say, either.

The medical staff seemed not to feel any such sympathy, hands moving swiftly to shift about their paralyzed charge. Cursory checks were made of blood pressure and breathing and the like, though far more attention seemed to be directed upon the removal of various tubes and monitors. Following their detachment from the hospital bed, Villain was shifted by a dozen hands onto a thin blue cushion, laid atop a rolling contraption of wheels.

Hero hoped that the straps that tightened the unconscious person down were only strictly necessary.

Despite their anxiety telling them otherwise, the whole process only lasted a minute two, after which the remaining medical staff filed from the chamber, leaving only Head Doctor in their cyan scrubs.

“Thank you, friend.” Hero ducked their head, moving away from their place in the corner. “They are ready, then?”

“Yes, Sir. Do you need help getting them to your vehicle?”

“That would be great, yes.”

The two positioned themselves on either side of the rolling contraption, with Hero doing their very best to keep their eyes forward rather than down as they began to direct the stretcher through narrow hallways.

It was too light. It should have been heavier, they were certain.

The facility was terribly small, and it was only a minute later that the imitator and the medic stood, alone, in the parking lot, white picket fence far behind them.

Head Doctor glanced a moment at Hero’s beat up SUV, but their nerves kept them from commenting on the matter. Leaving the stretcher a moment, Hero moved to the back of the vehicle, prying open its rear hatch and flattening the seats.

“I assume this is an undercover operation, then?” The way Head Doctor said it implied the statement to be a joke.

“Something like that. How do we, um... I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s not that hard. Especially not when your patient may as well be a feather-- keep that in mind for your dosages, too. They’ve lost weight. Anyways, um, just fold the stretcher like so, and... Can you help lift?”

Hero nodded, doing their best to keep the stretcher flat as they raised it. The contraption hardly fit in the back of their vehicle, but it did fit, even as it was practically wedged between the walls. What was most important was that it sat low enough that the unconscious patient could not be seen through the windows-- at least not from a distance.

There was a sense of terrifying finality as they closed the vehicle’s rear hatch.

They were doing this.

Oh, they were going to get so caught.

What then? This had to be just about the worst offense a hero could commit. Using their powers and their position and the aid of a career criminal to break a villain out of prison. It seemed like a child’s hyperbole-- ‘What should we do if there’s a tornado and a fire and an earthquake? What then?’

Except, this time, there was no ‘what if’ to it.

It was these spiraling thoughts that distracted them just enough that they forget, momentarily, where their feet were landing. A split second of distraction, and they found themself on their back, head spinning from the fall.

Stupid.

They didn’t realize until they were back to their feet that their earpiece had fallen onto the pavement.

“Director? Are you alright?” Head Doctor raised a brow. “Oh, you dropped this.”

They knelt down, plucking the earbud off the ground, lifting it to their face to investigate.

And, in accordance with Hero’s fantastic luck, it was that exact moment in which Hacker decided to speak:

“Hero? Hero? Are you there? You cut out there for a moment. Head Doctor didn’t get you, did they?”

The doctor’s icy gaze lifted to meet that of the copycat.

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It was hard, to get out of the city.

The tendrils of concrete and glass reached out in a looping spiderweb of interstates and one way roads. Moving in a straight line was not an option, for every attempt made to do so would lead to the city herding you back in.

In the end, it must have taken Hero an hour and a half to reach what could be vaguely described as a ‘rural area.’ At the very least, it was outside of the inner city, which was what mattered surtout.

At the very least, the long drive had allowed them a moment to catch their breath.

Unlike some other buildings controlled by Organization, the rehab facility did not have much in the way of a security force-- unless you counted Head Doctor, which Hero did not. Unfortunately, the same thought had not seemed to have the doctor’s train of thought.

It was amazing just how little attention Hero had attracted, screeching out of a rehab facility’s parking lot with a screaming doctor chasing after them up to the property line. They could only assume that no one wanted to get involved in hero business.

Organization, however, would certainly be interested, once they heard about the incident.

Thus, Hero had spent the past hour and a half white-knuckling the steering wheel, steering around endless intersections, until they had found the smallest piece of rural land. A gravel parking lot, from which a flock of starlings had fled at the approach of Hero’s car.

Beneath the vehicle’s suspension, tires settled on broken up rocks.

Hero glanced in the rear view mirror for the thousandth time, but saw only the same thing as always-- endless, empty road.

For the first time in an hour and a half, they let themself breathe. Their car’s engine exhaled as they turned it off and twisted around in their seat.

Villain had not moved.

The few straps on the stretcher did little more than keep them from falling off the cushion. If they had any desire, any ability, to move, they would have had no trouble.

But they were still. Alive, eyelids twitching and chest moving, but still.

Taking care to avoid jostling the stretcher, Hero climbed from the driver’s seat to the back of the vehicle, crouching down at Villain’s side.

As gently as they could manage, Hero held their nemesis’ hand.

“Can you hear me?”

It was a stupid question. Of course Villain couldn’t hear them. Yet, as soon as Hero’s mouth opened, they found themself unable to close it. Unable to still their tongue.

“I don’t... I know it’s been a long time.”

A wave of orange light washed over the two as the sun drifted below the window.

“I know it’s been a long time. And maybe this is stupid. Maybe you hate me. Maybe you want to go back there. Go back to sleep. Maybe that’s all you want. But... I want to help you.

I don’t know anything else. I just know I want to help you.

We weren’t friends, before. I know that. We both know that. And, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know why I’m doing this. We hated each other. Maybe I still hate you, but...

We can figure that all out later, okay? Right now, I just want to help.”

It was in that position that the nemeses sat, breathing in their first tastes of non-city air in so many years. Outside of the vehicle’s walls, the sun drifted below the horizon, replaced by its lunar sister.

When the last shreds of twilight were at last dead, Hero felt at long last safe to return home. One last time, they squeezed Villain’s hand.

Villain squeezed back. The slightest movement-- perhaps a simple involuntary reaction. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything.

But, to Hero, it meant everything.

On the return trip to the city, the streets were far quieter, and thankfully devoid of any sort of Organization search patrols. In fact, their arrival at the HQ was almost too uneventful. But, they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Had they not been so stupid, so reckless, they would still have help. They would still have Hacker. Their friend could have guided them through the HQ, guided them on how to avoid the security cameras.

But Hero had been stupid. They had been reckless. Now, they were alone.

At the very least, the parking lot was deserted, and they met no resistance as they unstrapped Villain from their transport. They haphazardly covered the device with a tarp, all the while struggling to keep their limp friend from falling over.

Any strength that Villain had once held in their legs had long since been stolen away from them. After a few clumsy attempts to get them to their feet, Hero resolved to a simple bridal carry.

They could only hope that Villain would not remember this. They would never hear the end of it.

Without the benefit of an eye in the sky, all Hero could do against the possibility of cameras was to lean over the load they carried, hoping it at least obscured Villain’s face.

The HQ was deserted.

At this hour, it was never deserted.

The very thought made their blood turn to frozen slush, but they had no choice but to keep moving. Keep moving to the elevator, then out of it. Keep moving to their floor, then their quarters.

At the very least, Teammate’s snoring still echoed. Not everything was out of place.

Well-placed steps led Hero to their dorm, locking the door behind themself.

They looked down.

Villain was in their room. Their dorm. They were really never going to hear the end of this, were they?

Unfortunately, hours spent panicking over their nemesis’ condition had not spontaneously made Hero a doctor. Whatever they were going through right now, helping them through it was beyond them.

They had no medicines. No treatments. But, they had a closet, and a pile of blankets within. When Villain was finally tucked into the makeshift bed, they were almost invisible beneath the layers of fabric.

Though they were not quite sure why, Hero smiled.

That odd expression remained on their face as they got to their knees, staring upon their work.

For once, they had done something right. They had succeeded at something. Take that, Leader!

Villain twitched.

For a moment, Hero thought that their nerves had simply made them hallucinate the movement. But, no, they certainly had not dreamed it, as a moment later, the small movement repeated itself.

Villain opened their eyes. They spoke as though their tongue was made of ice, but that did not make their voice any quieter.

“Please, no! Please! Please, don’t do this! Help me help me help me someone help me. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!”

The sobbing grew to such a point that it shook Hero’s chest, like the thrum of a bass, echoing through the floor.

“Please!”

Through all the chaos, Hero was surprised that they even heard the knock at the door, and the quiet voice that came with it:

“Hero? Hero, it’s Teammate. Is everything okay in there?”

“I didn’t mean to see it! I won’t tell Hero, I promise! I promise!”

All at once, Hero understood the saying of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero has gone this alone for too long, and Teammate is their friend. Let Teammate in. - How should Hero quiet Villain?

B.) Teammate is a risk, and Hero has already taken enough of those. Don’t let them in - How should Hero explain this?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #nemesis #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #villain whumpee #powered whumpee #drugged whumpee #drugged villain

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mego42 · 3 years

Note

I know it’s the writers fault, and I feel like this season rio is a different person than seasons 1,2 and even 3. But if I ignore my opinions on the writers and the odd choices they’ve made for him, and just watch the show as a normal viewer, rio is fucking pissing me off. Like all he had to do was tell Beth she was being followed. He made the mess. And he’s such a dick. Like at this point kill her or don’t. But this whole “Rio can’t hurt Beth/rio has love for her/brio love triangle” thing? Like nah I’m not seeing it. He’s being literally stupid for no reason.

i'm v sorry he's pissing you off and you’re super entitled to feel that way! but tbh, personally i don't totally agree that he's different or that he's being stupid for no reason (though, if you're not buying into the idea that he's genuinely into beth than yeah, i can v much see why you would feel that way, i think that's a p significant puzzle piece).

imo, the primary difference between the rio of s4 and the rio of previous seasons isn't in the character, but how much more context/insight/backstory we're getting for him. we’ve seen bits and pieces before, but they’ve been very sporadic (something that’s been a p consistent complaint since i joined the fandom) and i think s4 has really dug into shading rio’s character and backstory in with much more detail and depth than we’ve seen so far. i also think the show's p steadily developed the idea that he has some degree of genuine feeling for beth (and that they make him act rashly and stupidly) along the same pace.

putting the rest of this below the cut bc it got long and should you continue, do so with the caveat that i’m not here to change anyone’s mind, i’m just breaking down why i disagree.

in s1, rio was a p one-dimensional character (like, on paper he's basically a walking first page google search result for "mexican gang banger stereotypes") and it's a testament to how much manny brought to his performance and the way he sparks with his scene partners (particularly christina and jim) that he came across so engagingly and elevated the character far enough that people so easily overlook that. over the course of s2, they peeled back the curtain a little bit and rounded him out more in ways that (imo and ymmv) really efficiently counteracted that stereotypical portrayal like introducing marcus, being softer with beth, and the different faceted glimpses of him we saw through his personal and business spaces (the club, his loft and bar). in terms of his feelings, while a lot of the softness with beth was him working an angle, we still caught glimpses that hinted at something real developing in his reactions to her that either served no purpose for keeping her in line (the way the camera lingered on his face falling in 209 after beth had turned away and couldn't see him) or, most significantly imo, doing things for her that actively undermined his authority (retrieving!!!!!!!! the!!!!!!!!!! dubby!!!!!!!!!!!!).

and speaking of 209, we also saw him react in increasingly more irrational and outlandish ways (ignoring her calls/texts about the fbi closing in on a business he’s somewhat tied up in, sending her body parts in the mail, kidnapping her) in reaction to beth quitting him, underscoring both the idea that 209 (and beth) meant something to him and that he gets real dramatic and questionably intelligent when he’s in his feelings.

there's nothing to really say any of this was a swerve from s1 bc s1 left p much everything on the table. s3 built that out a bit more both in terms of what we know about him (thinking specifically of fitz's rundown of what he gets up to when beth's not around) and his feelings for beth (how he handled the wake of 213 was, uh, illuminating and it’s been made even more illuminating with the context s4 added with nick’s involvement in rio’s business and the fact that nick knew nothing about lucy).

s4, to me, is building on all of that (see the above comment about the new layer of context to lucy and repeat, for one). we’ve met his family (who they’ve already hinted he’s very close to through the photos in his loft), we’ve found out how he got involved in crime in the first place (and i've seen criticism of the tragedy aspect of it and how that disproportionately applies to characters of color and that’s super valid, though i do think there’d also be a lot of valid criticism if they’d gone the opposite route and written rio as knowingly and gleefully deciding to be a criminal. the show kind of put itself in an impossible position there, but that’s something that goes back to s1 and the entire concept of his character. i’m not saying there isn’t a nuanced way to tell this story but, i don’t think anyone in the fandom would argue the gg team doesn’t often do so well with narrowly threaded needles, hahaha), and we’ve also seen that rio’s got some kind of big, complicated feelings for beth that result in him making moves and choices that both are and aren’t in his best interest/at her expense and the dichotomy is sloppy bc, as established, those kinds of feelings make rio sloppy.

honestly, i think one of the biggest reasons rio’s deepening characterization is so controversial is bc by holding off for so long (a choice that i admire conceptually from a storytelling angle—keeping him shrouded in mystery keeps the audience firmly rooted in the girls’ POVs which is where they want us to be—but v understand how it hasn’t worked for a lot of people and do think they’ve fumbled it at a couple of key steps), it allowed people to sort of choose their own rio and now that the show’s committing to their vision, it’s demolishing a lot of people’s personal versions and that sucks! if the show ever canonically says rio and mick haven’t been friends since they were kids, i, for one, am going to elect to ignore it bc FALSE!!!!!! but this phenomenon is also, you know, part of watching tv. someone else writes it, you ultimately have no say in it, you can really only decide for yourself when it no longer sparks joy enough that it’s a dealbreaker and you walk.

BUT yeah, i guess to wrap it all up, i do think s4 rio tracks with and has been directly built on the rios that have come before, but also think that accepting that he has big messy feelings for beth is a crucial part in understanding the choices he’s making, and if that’s not working for you, i don’t see this trajectory ultimately being v satisfying bc uh, yeah, i think it’s only going to get exponentially messier as we go.

#MY B THIS GOT LONG #i know i talk a lot of shit about rio but that's bc gently roasting is my love language #and i really do love him and think a lot about him #i mean imo you have to to satisfyingly write his pov #which i hope i do #at least somewhat #ANYWAY #rio good girls #nbc good girls #i refuse to start a meta tag #gg spoilers #i mean not really but it's fresh after an ep so just being safe i guess

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hotdogct · 3 years

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under the same sky ||| teaser

“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”

-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.

Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.

He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.

Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader

Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀 Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k) Release Date: ???

Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow! Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture?? Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please Baabaakangta: would you actually?? Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!! Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny. Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag?? Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^ Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!

You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by.

Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective.

All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...

“Baa baa?”

Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.

Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might.

“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.

“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”

If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.

“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.”

“Prove it.”

You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:

“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’

Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.

“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.

The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...

Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.

“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”

“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”

“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!”

At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.

And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.

“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”

There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.

“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?” When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips.

“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.

You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.

“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”

Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.

To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.

authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺

#kim jungwoo #jungwoo #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #kim jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo fic #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo fanfic

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flowers-of-io · 3 years

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@eri-223 you brought it upon yourself, now I won’t shut up c:

OKAY SO

I can’t really draw neat straight lines between the two, but there’s so much aesthetic similarity to me, particularly with Toland and the Hive-Ascendancy thing. Maybe it’s just me dying for the vibes (or loving POTO in general since I was 9), but it struck me today how Eris/Toland--when it’s made a Working ship--is basically everything Christine/Erik is not. There is so much to be said about Christine/Erik alone, but to me it’s an epitome of why gothic-novel-esque dynamics don’t really work in the long run when they don’t move past being just Gothic and Tragic. And hear me out. A goodhearted, elfin woman at her vulnerable point (grief over father) meets a honey-voiced stranger and has this secret thing with him, this music they share in the dead of night, and it’s intoxicating because music *is* her passion (and something she has deep emotions over in itself, the thing that is most hers in the world) and it’s secret, and a whole other world to what she’s facing in the daytime. The mystery is intriguing, and that’s intoxicating too. And there’s an uncomfortable power imbalance but it doesn’t bother you just yet, because there isn’t really any attraction between the two--not in the romantic-as-in-love sense at least, rather this romantic-as-in-romanticism pull all dark beautiful secret things have.

And here we can shout a fucking thank you at Erik for completely ruining that beauty by being an absolute creep. But Chrissie doesn’t know that yet. And so he leads her deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. And she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that is so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

And this, THIS is the best moment of the entire thing to me. This story could be well off without Raoul (whom I deeply love and cherish but he ruins the gothic) because he adds this romantic tension of a love triangle (which I absolutely loathe because ugh. love triangles.) to what could have been a tale of a girl torn between the world of day and night rather than two men who each love her in a different way. There’s so much of Persephone-sque struggle in Christine’s soul that has been shunned by the story imo, and would have made the whole thing better in the long run (and maybe less grossly-abusive on Erik’s part).

So let’s circle back to Toland, another pale, bony, possibly disfigured brunet in a dark coat with a living room full of skulls and candles (the vibes, huh. he probably owned a boat and a horse too). If we take Eris/Toland as starting off before the Hellmouth (I’m really starting to tentatively test my ground on this hhhng), it feels like the same story slightly to the left. Granted, Eris has more agency, but there’s still a huge power imbalance in her and Eriana coming to Toland--an exiled genius|madman with an evil black crow (Guren) perching on his shoulder--and asking him for help, laying their and their team’s lives at his feet - him, who could probably kill them in seventeen different yet equally fancy ways were he more invested! And there is so much darkness here already because how dark it must have been in Eris’ soul to agree on this revenge fantasy, what an abyss Eriana’s eyes must have been hiding; how desperate they must have been to come to him, to even consider this, to choose a possibility of painful, screaming agony in the Hellmouth over the ache they were feeling now. And so there’s vulnerability, too, in a way - because they’re desperate, because they’re hurting, because everything has been taken from them and they have nothing else to do but this ridiculous, mad plan. And oh he can abuse this void, he can make them do whatever he wants and they’d do it gladly, and I have a feeling both Eris and Eriana are aware of that.

And so they work, in secret, cracking secrets of the Hive, tasting the rot of the forbidden fruit, hiding from the daylight with their dark, heretic, nighttime folly. I think there is a threshold at wherever it is they are meeting--be it a room or a house, Eriana’s kitchen or Toland’s disturbing “lab”--in the doorway, between the bright but empty world of patrols and strikes and dead friends and this horrid, twisted, yet fascinating realm of promised vengeance. And I think Eris learns, hungry for secrets, hungry perhaps for Toland’s eyes on her because all dark beautiful secret things have a pull, and she can’t tell if she’s more drunk on the adventure, or the heresy they’re so blatantly committing, or him. And maybe he reciprocates in his own twisted way, maybe they talk or kiss over the parchment pages, and she cannot tell--she cannot tell if his eyes are truly for her or the Hive, the mystery, the thing they’re doing. I’m thinking of what you wrote, how “he wanted Ascendance as badly as she wanted him”. But despite that--or maybe because of it--she allows herself to be led deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. Is it the Hellmouth? Maybe, though I think it’s a process that spans between their secret studies of the Hive and the midst of their descent, when Vell is dead and maybe they’re all doomed, and Toland’s eyes twinkle in the dark and it’s such beautiful madness she cannot help staring. And the checkpoint has come, time to show cards--and she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that was so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

I think this is Ir Yut, or maybe a little bit earlier, but nevertheless the bubble bursts and Eris is left in the dark alone and betrayed. That’s of little concern, of course, when the Hive is hunting you down and all you hear is your friends’ dying screams, but it still hurts, it’s still bitter, it’s still so, so wrong. I like to think he comes to teach her then, maybe give her the journals, and it’s a whirlwind of madness and horror and fury and gore, but he’s whatever comfort she can hope for at this point. It’s twisted, it’s awful, it’s dark-gothic rotten, it’s as wrong and horrid as Erik/Christine is as a whole.

But then they’re given the chance Erik/Christine never got. They’re allowed to outgrow the rot. There’s so much dysfunctionality and disturb going on in most gothic-esque “love” stories because it’s not love, it’s attraction taken for a spin and often grossly abused. Love is growth. I like to think of what must have been going on in Eris’ head (and Toland’s too, perhaps, though I doubt he had one at that point) when they were exchanging the letters, the dearest Eris right next to did you watch me carve out each eye; now that she’s wiser, and scarred, and not so stupid anymore--but there’s still that dark pull she can’t help, now even scarier than before that she knows him for what he really is, now that she’s seen the rot. There’s so much hurt to be outgrown, so much betrayal, but she finds he’s yet again whatever comfort she can hope for (that entry *is* called A Light In The Darkness, huh). I could wax poetic about this whole process but I think you captured it so well in STM I don’t have much else to add.

I wanted to throw quotes into it but couldn’t quite fit them into this, uh, essay (which I didn’t absolutely re-read), and I guess Music of the Night would apply here but it’s ripe with uncomfortable sexual tension?? And aside from that (which is in its entirety a trip) just consider these ah

this whole moment

also this

He'll always be there singing songs in my head Is this Eris in the letters phase? maybe. I performed a vibe check and it showed positive

Wandering Child for how unhealthy-twisted and beautiful it is (ignore Raoul, I have no metaphor for him in this au)

For either way you choose, you cannot win It’s just a good quote y’all

Farewell my fallen idol and false friend / We had such hopes, and now those hopes are shattered

Angel of Music, you deceived me / I gave you my mind blindly (HOW SHE WHISPERS THAT LAST PART IN THE MOVIE OK)

Stranger than you dreamt it now you’re stranded in the Hellmouth good job

What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn / Beyond the point of no return

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn

Down that path into darkness deep as hell but Toland smiles while he sings this

And of course the classic, And in this labyrinth where night is blind / The Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind

Wow! I didn’t even get to the Dreaming City! It’s way more vague than the whole Eris/Toland thing because of course ships take up 80% of my brainspace but idk I just find it so incredibly fitting when it comes to paralleling Savathun/Dul Incaru terrorising the Dreaming City with what Erik does to the opera. Like, everybody knows he’s There but no one can do anything about it, he sends vague threats and kills people but nobody can catch him, and the place is just a giant playground for him to have fun and achieve his personal goals in. And whatever the hell is going on in Masquerade, like

Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you

wow that sure is subtle. Seething shadows breathing lies, huh. Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you :) And then he crashes the party in a fucking Red Death costume. If this doesn’t have huge Dul Incaru/Siren of Riven energy I don’t know what has.

And of course the shitshow only starts when we kill Riven but the seeds have been planted long, long ago. If you listen closely, you can hear Petra screaming in confusion somewhere under box five.

I know most of this second part is a stretch, BUT! this is my au. And for the record, I know there are very mixed feeling about the 2004 POTO movie but to me personally it was a formative experience, first watched on a very crappy TV in music class at the age of 9 and not even in its entirety, but I was already captivated and shaken to the core, and there’s still, after all those years, something that screams at my soul when I hear the first notes.

And, as a treat for those who suffered with me until the end of this essay,

#i may or may not be singing up to three poto songs next tuesday on a concert #which may or may not have been my teenage dream #reply #eri-223 #phantom of the opera #toland the sarky #eris morning #eris/toland #destiny 2 #npc talk #what is this even #i have no idea how to tag this #headcanon #ships #ir yût #dûl incaru

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