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valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years

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It’s 1 AM and I just finished Light and Dark. Honestly, I put off for about a year because I didn’t want it to end. Let me tell you something, it was soooo good.

First off, I love her friendship with Em. Secondly, the love interests were well developed. I have a softer spot for Cy than James, which is why chapter 22 hurt… a lot. But it’s okay because I just pretend like it didn’t happen. The epilogue for Cy and the reading was absolutely perfect! I did read James’ AU chapters. Remember how I asked about Sirius seeing James and the reading going at it at the Potter house? Well you told me you had something planned in the future and it DID NOT disappoint! If you ever decide to do something like this for James and Sirius, I’ll be first in line to read.

Honestly, you’re my favorite author on here. I’ve read the Charlie/Oliver and Remus/Rowan/Tristan (love Rowan and Tristen so much btw. What is it with you and OCs that make me fan girl a little too hard?) stories. Sorry I always forget tittles, but I love them too. Thank you so much for the amazing writing! I can’t wait to read more :)

-🦭

Hello hello! Ah, this is so lovely. I remember receiving some of my first messages from you, close to the start of Light & Dark. Thank you for sticking with it and finishing it. It's truly wonderful to hear that you liked it right up to the end. I honestly had a hard time finishing it because there were so many things I wanted to show, but ultimately, I think it came together okay.

I want to respond to your individual comments, but I also want to avoid potential spoilers and not annoy anyone with a huge (really, huge), rambling block of text, so it'll be under this cut:

First - Emmeline Vance! Yes, I saw Em as this understated, but very confident person, even as just a first-year. And then here you were, this slightly stand-offish, unsure person, with your arms crossed across your chest and a somewhat confused and profoundly displeased expression on your face all the time. You drew together because both of you had this quiet, tough energy. Also, it didn't really show up in this story because Emmeline realized you were struggling during the years the story takes place and was very gentle with you, but I imagined Emmeline as having Sirius-level recklessness and biting sarcasm, except with more of a forward-thinking brain and less of a need for dramatic flair - so truly, a force to behold. An amazing friend - hence, why your and Cyrille's daughter is named after her.

(Also, I mentioned it only a couple times, but in Light & Dark, I thought two of your other friends, Amelia and Hestia, fell in love and dated at Hogwarts. The same night you reunited with Cyrille on the Astronomy Tower, Amelia and Hestia played some drinking-and-kissing game in the Hufflepuff common room (where you were supposed to be) and realized they were just as compatible as lovers as they were friends.)

Second - Yeah, Chapter 22 was... I put a warning up because I didn't want anyone to have any bad feelings while reading the story. However, I think sometimes we fantasize about 'bad-boy-or-girl/dominant/experienced' tropes (which, why not?) without acknowledging the flip side of that. Physically, having a sexually experienced partner means just that - if this is a new relationship and that person is already sexually experienced, then they obviously had those experiences at some point with someone else.

With Cyrille Lestrange, it's especially dark. Cyrille's ability to dominate you and his incredibly mesmerizing aura, which you might find as attractive features, came from his 'training' to seduce someone whilst maintaining total control over the situation, ultimately to persuade that person to give whatever is needed. Fortunately, with you/Reader, Cyrille is slowly able to let go of that aspect (which is why in Part 19, he confesses to you that he doesn't know how to be intimate without putting on a mask, and why Cyrille always affectionately thinks of you as his true dominant, since with you, he finally feels free and light-hearted and gets to be emotionally vulnerable with you when the two of you are together.)

It's not just Cyrille. I almost always think there is a flip side. For example, in my head, Remus Lupin's gentle and humble traits might draw you in, but they arise partly from his lack of self-esteem, which might play a key factor in pushing you away. Sirius Black's roguish charm and confidence might attract you to him, but they come partly from his independent upbringing (not having anyone to care for him), so those aspects will likely go hand-in-hand with his shutting you out and with his more reckless behavior.

Also, Chapter 22 is a slight reminder that we see the story from your/Reader's perspective. Part of the later chapters (hopefully) contain these flashes of realization where you suddenly comprehend what other characters were thinking at a prior point in time. For example, the James A/U is meant to highlight what he was personally struggling with back when the two of you first broke up (i.e. the significance of 'choice' over instinct). And Chapter 22 shows flashes of what Cyrille had to endure to, as he believes, 'save the people around him.' It is also a very, very slight parallel to what Cyrille may have felt when, after you lost your memory, you started to date James. Obviously, there are huge differences - for one, you didn't know about your link to Cyrille and you were genuinely happy with James and your actions had no consequences beyond Cyrille's suffering; whereas Cyrille is obviously thinking about you and is totally miserable and is enabling this terrible regime of Voldemort. But for me, the point was not to take character traits and perspectives for granted. I always meant to include Chapter 22 in the story, but at the end of the day, it is upsetting and disgusting. I hope it didn't upset you too much!

Also, I shouldn't say this, but I love that you had a softer spot for Cyrille. I can imagine him somewhere out there, smirking and softly stroking your hair, so utterly pleased that he's definitely won his Angel back over from that 'uncivilized, messy-haired, stupidly-proud-Gryffindor, can't-control-his-own-damn-mouth-long-enough-to-say-hello, how-dare-he-look-at-another-girl-when-he-has-you, never-deserved-you-anyways prick.'

Third - the Sirius and James chapter! I had that saved for ages. It never fit into the original story (because I felt like it was too much insecurity and drama when combined with the main issue of Lily-James-you), and I was so excited to finally share it with everybody. I have lots of ideas about Sirius, as well as about all of the inter-Marauders dynamics. I hope I'll eventually get to share them here.

Fourth - Rowan Scamander and Tristan Graves. Ah, thank you for saying this! I get so nervous with featuring OCs. I see their personalities and histories so clearly in my mind, but I never know if it comes through correctly in the actual story. I don't want to say too much on these characters because Foxtail & Wolfsbane is still in-progress and they both continue to be involved in the story, but my initial conception of each of them was something like the following:

Rowan is the Golden Child, and he initially takes to this position very easily - not only smart, but witty; not only popular, but kind. However, the older he grows, the more his parents' fame and his bright aura wear on him as everyone's expectations of who he should be start to suffocate him. Because, the truth is that while Rowan inherited many qualities from his parents, he doesn't naturally have either of his parent's gentleness, which is part of what they're famous for. He doesn't have his father's awkwardness or love of creatures or his mother's understanding nature and sense of deep duty. Instead, he has his own sense of adventure and intense personality. But whenever he acts like himself and lets his ambitions show, he seems to disappoint people. So, not only is he expected to be perfect, but he's expected to perform perfectly as though it was nothing, and to follow his parents' footsteps and even have their personalities as though it all comes naturally to him. Thus, he stays this beautiful, bright, charismatic young man, but a certain edge starts to grow in his fierce soul as he realizes that fame is a cage and the only reward is power, but never peace.

Tristan is, in some ways, Rowan's reverse. He initially comes off far too authoritative and independent (seemingly ordering people around without listening to their views) and basically like some arrogant prodigy who only ever has master-servant relationships (e.g., having Susana as a 'maid' or telling Cas that she can't love him or keeping you prisoner in the United States). Then, you learn about his past - how he was caught between his parents, the Obscurial, and an entire team of Aurors, and how he only survived because both of his parents died for him. But just when you are about to garner some sympathy for him, instead of being grateful, Tristan blatantly shows that he hates any comparison to his father and swears that unlike his father, he won't die for just one lame, undeserving person, which is a shocking way to talk about a parent who loved you and died to protect you.

Only then, it all starts to unravel: Tristan only kept you with him in the United States to figure out if you were telling the truth about the Nine-Tailed Fox and that you weren't alleged with Voldemort and to keep you safe from all of the Aurors who wanted to kill you because they thought you were an Obscurial. He willingly let you go once he knew you were telling the truth and that you could take care of yourself. Tristan saved Susana from being sentenced to death merely because she was Grindelwald's secret daughter and he uses his knowledge of ancient metal magic to curb her power at her request, because Susana inherited Grindelwald's dark and destructive bent in magic. Tristan only told Cas not to love him because he knew he had the shard of Obscurial locked away in his soul and as his depression grew, he felt it growing stronger in his soul, and he was afraid to hurt Cas. (There was a storyline I originally sketched out where Tristan had a prior childhood crush, Mary Jauncey, whom he hurt badly and ultimately lost when Tristan first discovered the Obscurial had gone into his body by the Obscurial bursting out of him when he got angry, but I took it out. The importance of that was that it became a deep trauma for Tristan, in addition to his parents' death. There are hints of the loss of Mary Jauncey in the first few chapters where Tristan appears; that's what the passages of Hades and Persephone were about - Tristan is Hades, Mary is Persephone, only in the real world, they can never reach each other. Even magic cannot bring myth to life; only myth is myth. The Nine-Tailed Fox, as a mythical creature herself, senses this desire and pain in Tristan.) Tristan also believed that Cas was MCUSA's greatest asset, and when he overheard other Aurors talking behind her back and saying that she only ranked high because of her relationship with him, he became furious and tried to put some distance between the two of them, at least until she established herself among the Aurors, which Tristan knew would not take long. The sum of this is supposed to be confusing - Tristan says he doesn't want to be like his father, that he would never sacrifice himself for a single individual and yet he has, time and time again - for Susana, for Cas, for you - and then, finally, you learn that when Tristan talks about that lame, undeserving person, he meant himself, as a little kid whose parents sacrificed themselves for him. Tristan believes that no matter how many people he helps, it could never amount to the potential his parents had for helping people, and for that reason, he wishes that he had died instead and that his parents could be alive in his stead. When the Nine-Tailed Fox helps him to find forgiveness in himself (through you), that wound in his soul becomes healed enough that the Obscurial is forced out of him. That's his arc up until now (Part 26).

Finally, and most importantly - Thank you very much for leaving such sweet messages and giving my stories all this attention and love. ♥ I hope this wasn't too long; I just want to make sure I'm reciprocating your good energy. Cheers!

#anon #but not really because seal!#ask #light and dark #foxtail and wolfsbane

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

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Thank you dear Anon for asking me Uta ☺️! I hope this can be okay. I always tend to aim for angst/comfort (instinctively I always look for the happy ending), but if you want angst really don't have a problem forcing me :3. That said, I hope I didn't disappoint you!🌸 (And sorry but it was natural for me to be a human reader, I only noticed at the end, scold me even if you want 😣)

57-Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader (angst/comfort)

From the prompt list

4- “Do you know what it's like?”

Uta in truth cannot say that he is surprised at what is happening, he cannot deny the veil of resignation that had enveloped his heart when it all began.

In a way he still hoped he was living a dream, that what he had been waiting for hadn't really come true. He really hoped that everything would be okay with you, despite his fears. Somehow, despite his finding that the image of a peaceful life with you was just a utopia, he clung to the idea that you were able to perform the miracle. He has never felt so loved as by you, he has never questioned your love for him.

Yet now that he was standing in front of you with tears in your eyes desperately waiting for some answer, he wondered how you had actually fallen in love with him.

He's not just angry with you, he's mad, and hurt. Yet he still loves you, he really does, and for this reason that rational part of his person still clings to that affection so as not to allow it to scare you further.

"You have to calm down." He tells you in a firm voice. His body doesn't move, only his fists clench along his hips.

“Calm down ?! You have… ”Your voice is high, broken, desperate. You've never raised your voice against him before.

Yeah, he has what? He obviously did something that - in your opinion - he shouldn't have done, he had taken a life that he shouldn't have taken.

Innocent. You used that word, but he didn't understand what it meant, he just couldn't really hear you. He stopped doing it when he realized he was the problem you were crying about.

He must have hurt someone you knew, even though he wasn't sure how close he could be to you - he's pretty sure you stay away from doves. In any case, something has upset you. It's possible, he's been dealing with a lot of trouble lately, but whatever the reason for your tears ... they're useless.

Whatever happened, crying for someone he killed is absolutely useless.

You've never done this before, so did lives have a different value to you?

Was that life worth more to you than all the others he had devoured?

"Were they more important than me?"

Uta wanted to ask a question, but instead the realization led him to flatten the questioning tone into a cold statement.

He doesn't give up his gaze for a second in front of your wide eyes. He suddenly manages to get silence from you, and that scares him. It scares him to death.

You are dumb, dumb like the masks that surround you. When you speak, it is as if you light a fuse inside him: "How can you ask me such a thing?"

And the world ends for him.

His place in the world that he thought he had found was suddenly erased. You are like others, you think like others. You don't care about his situation, he's the culprit. You love him as long as he hides his being from you.

"Do you know what it's like?" A tremor in his voice. A tremor that you have never heard, and then what he had never done: "Do you know what it is like to be a ghoul in your world ?! Do you have any idea what people like me have to endure ?! "

Uta never raises his voice, never. Nor with you. Yet this time he has no way to stop the beast from roaring, and somehow he expects you to quiet down, to take his words to heart, to share his suffering, as you always do. Instead you don't leave a second of silence between you and him.

"And do you know what it is like to be a human ?!" You slam those words in his face like a slap, and for a moment he can't react, and he doesn't understand if the pain he feels is caused by his physical body or his troubled mind.

"The world must understand you, but you have never tried to understand the world!" Your hand tightens on your chest "It is you who can kill me here! It is you who can eat me! You are not the victim between us!"

"Are you the victim?" Uta's usually gentle voice echoes deep in his chest like an earthquake, and this time you can't deal with it. It is as if you are on the edge of an abyss, and you take a step back, hoping to avoid falling, but he is not of the same opinion.

"You are right."

He is no longer screaming, but that doesn't reassure you. Not at all. Not if he's smiling like that.

Where can you ever run away as he approaches you.

What do you want from him? Do you want the predator to regret having hunted? Do you want to condemn him to hell for this?

“Maybe I should have done it right away. I should have eaten your tender heart since I met it. " It would have been with him without so many problems.

"GO AWAY!"

The scream you throw is so desperate that it almost seems to have stuck in his heart.

Your hands are on his chest, where they often are, but this time they are trying to push him away with such weak force compared to his, yet so terrible for him.

You are in his arms, where you should be whenever you suffer, but they are no refuge for you now, and his hands are gripping your arms so tightly that he can imagine the bruises beneath them.

The devilish smile falls apart. He hadn't even realized that he had lost control of his emotions. This should never have happened, not with you.

"I-"

"Leave me."

He obeys your desperate sigh.

The tattooed hands fall to his sides and all he hears are your silent sobs as you curl up in a corner for protection.

Was he really that terrible? What have your eyes seen? Your delicate human eyes.

"Come on ... it's over ..." Uta's voice is warm again, calm, reassuring, as he is always with you. Instinctively his hand reaches out in search of your skin, as he always does when you feel bad. He moves to be on your level, to take you in his arms, yet again the crystal dream breaks. You break it again, when without even realizing you move away from his grasp, trying to escape his presence.

Uta remains there, motionless, to contemplate his work. To contemplate the fact that he is not enough.

And now the difference between the two of you was as heavy as a volcano's lava on both of you, because you are no longer in a fight with Uta, you are in a position of danger in front of a ghoul.

He's right, you don't know what it's like to be a ghoul. And you are right, he does not know what it is like to be human, to be you.

All he really knows is that his instincts tell him he has to take care of you, because you are afraid, you need protection, because he wants to see you happy, yet he is trapped in his place because it is he who hurts you, it is him the threat.

Uta closes his eyes slowly. He knows himself, he needs to calm down, to calm his heart which is beating fast and afraid. But he can't. He can't untangle the painful tangle inside him that is blocking his breath. It looks like a bomb, water that grows and prepares to overflow.

And then something moves, and his eyes go wide.

It's not something he's ever experienced before, but he's self-conscious enough to take precautions.

The faster pace than usual as he moves away from you is not enough to attract your attention, but the violent opening of the bathroom door does.

Uta's stomach never gave any problems, absolutely never. Yet now he finds himself bent over painfully emptying its contents. It's a horrible, almost upsetting feeling for him.

It seems that the human makes fun of him even when they are dead, bending the monster and leaving him exhausted by the efforts, moving him away from you, as if to want to protect you.

How did you get to that point? How can he go back?

You were his refuge, his anchor, his certainty, he wants you back. Yet for those like him, taking care of something seems impossible. His own body led him to crouch away, like a ground worm.

Your soft and uncertain steps stop when you reach the threshold that he didn't bother to close in his haste, your light and inviting scent penetrates his lungs and he still feels your breath trembling with tears.

Even in that situation Uta seems to be fully in control of himself, calm, only his head that leans towards his lap manifests an implicit attempt to silence the pain.

His fist lifts to lean against the toilet to flush out what you never want to see, because even though the harshness of reality has crushed on you, he still protects you.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He's really sorry, and he'd eat his own tongue if it kept those words from you.

He can't say that he really feels guilty about what he did, but that he is sorry to hurt you and scare you, that is.

You do not answer him, nothing comes from your lips, and inside Uta fears he will never hear your voice again. But you don't go away.

In the following moments you too are curled up on the floor behind him, rubbing your cheek against his back for comfort, looking for the reassurance of his heart, tired from those frantic beats that he is not used to sustain.

Your weight on him is sweet, and maybe you two just hit a bottom that you needed to touch, in order to be strong again, for yourself.

And if doubts still linger between you, your whispered words give Uta the answer he thought he could never get again: "I still love you."

#tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul #uta x reader #angst #angst/comfort #tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul oneshot

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mah-gah-lee · 3 years

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You’re such a bitch - (Charlie Gillespie x reader)

Word Count: 2486 Request: no, again @jatpsmut inspired me with his fic “What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)”. I asked her if I could use the Hawaii idea and now I am writing this!

However, some details change from the original fic:

“Charlie and y/n haven't been best friends since they were kids, but from the first season of jatp. y/n is an additional actor on Julie and the Phantoms, also a dancer. Charlie didn't confess his feelings to y/n in Hawaii.

The only thing I got from the idea of @jatpsmut is the fact that something happened in Hawaii. So thank you to her for writing this incredible fic, without it this could not happen Summary: You and Charlie were best friends and roommates in LA. One evening, you heard it with a girl, the next morning, everything is awkward, bitchy and everything changes. Warnings: mention of sexual activities - language disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or his family personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…). All of this is not the reality

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics @standingtalllove @lukeys-giggle @happinessinthedarkesttimes if you want to be tagged in my next fic let me know !

---

You try to focus on the TV show you were watching, but obviously your roommate had company. And that company was way too loud in your opinion. You were rolling your eyes in annoyance when suddenly your phone vibrates, displaying the blonde head of your second best friend. If there was one thing you miss since you came back to live to Los Angeles, it was obviously living with this sarcastic character. Vancouver seemed so far away to you. You picked up your phone and Owen's face appeared.

“Hi sweetie.” Owen told you with a smile “Oh, hey… Why that face?” he clearly noticed your annoyance. "Hi O." you said before complaining "Ugh, I miss living with you in Vancouver so much" "Yeah me too. We had so much fun. But hey, I'm sure we'll have a season two." "I hope so much"

You were an extra cast member on Julie and the Phantoms, you also were a dancer on the first season, just as Tori. You wished so much Owen was right about Jatp season 2 renew but Netflix seemed to enjoy making you patient. But the coronavirus had also literally messed up all your plans. However, you were angry, some series came out long after yours and got renewed while yours stayed on hold. It was clear that fans of the series as much as you were just waiting for the renewal of season two.

A moan came out of Charlie's bedroom with the sound of a bouncing mattress, you rolled your eyes again, groaning with a sort of anger.

"Jesus Christ ..." you complained "Wait, y/n, what's that sound?" “You know what I miss most about living with you in Vancouver O’? Rule #3. " “Rule #3? Rule #3" he seemed to think about what you said when he finally realized "Oh ... Oh! Rule #3! Wait.. Oh my God! Is Charlie being with a chick right now? ” He asked you with stupefaction. "Oh I wish you were wrong"

A laugh came out from you best friend mouth and you gave him a killer look through the screen, making him laugh harder. When you were in Vancouver, living with two boys forced you to set limits and rules for living. The first was; everyone cleans up their own mess. Second, the housework takes turns. Third rule: no one-night stand allowed in the flat. Surprisingly as it may seem, this rule had been followed very well by everyone. But at the same time, the boys' schedules really didn't make time to bring anyone home, and then after all, they were professional. But as soon as Charlie returned from his parents' quarantine, he forgot the existence of this rule, as if it did not apply to Los Angeles. It wasn't like he brought a different girl home every night, or even every month. It might have been the second or third time since you had moved in. But this situation embarrassed you more than you might have thought.

“Owen, don't make fun of me. I've been hearing them for about an hour now. " "Poor you. Now you understand how I felt in Hawaii" he smirked at you. "Wait, what did you say?" you asked him, in shocked. "Oh please y/n ... you heard me clearly"

Of course, you had heard what he said, but you were in shock at the revelation, so you needed confirmation. This story was supposed to be a secret between you and Charlie. The fact that Owen mentioned it could only assume two things.

"Did you hear us in Hawaii?" “I was in the room next door! Of course, I heard you. It's not like you and Charlie are the quietest couple ever having sex ... " "It seems Charlie is the loudest one…" you said, referring to your best friend having sex in the next bedroom. "Oh darling please, I can remind you of what you said that night. You two gave me nightmares." "Please don't. I feel so embarrassed right now"

Last year you went to Hawaii with several cast members and Kenny. A booking error forced you to share a bed with Charlie. It seemed that sleeping with a girl seemed more adequate than two boys sleeping in the same bed. Charlie and Owen had avoided that possibility the second the problem had arisen. One thing leading to another, after a few strong cocktails, you and the dark-haired boy had ended up having a horny night. The shame caused the next day made you both never talk about it again and "what happened in Hawaii will stay in Hawaii". You didn’t know that Owen heard you and it seems that boy can keep a secret for so long now.

The problem was that that night you realized that you felt more than an attraction to your roommate. It went beyond friendship or mere sexual tension at the sight of this Canadian. You wanted every aspect of what you might have experienced with Charlie and more: the laughs, the funny times, the lots of talking, the quiet times watching a movie or just playing Nintendo Switch, the sex. But you also wanted the PDAs, the feelings, just being with him like his girlfriend. But the actor was totally oblivious to your feelings for him, and you didn't even want to try to make him understand it on his own. You just created a shell for yourself and buried your feelings deep within yourself.

“I don’t understand y/n. Why didn’t you tell him your feeling?” “Because I know he doesn’t love me back, O.” “Oh come on! You two are the most stubborn people I ever met!”

Again, for the third time tonight, you've rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure Charlie didn't feel the same way you did. Since Hawaii, neither of you had stepped forward towards each other, but sometimes your behaviors showed that you were more than friends. Another moan was heard from Charlie’s room and Owen's face on the screen was memorable. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were red.

"Okay, y/n. I'm sorry but I don't want to keep talking to you and hear my other best friend hooking up at the same time ..."

You laughed and he hung up the phone not forgetting to say goodbye. You tried to focus on your screen again, your headphones being way too far away for you to catch them. Minutes later you finally heard the distinctive sound of Charlie's orgasm and knew you were finally going to be able to sleep.

…

The next morning you woke up with a high level of fatigue. You casually walk to the kitchen to make coffee. While you were pouring yourself a cup of this much-desired black liquid, a person entered the kitchen.

"Who the fuck are you?"

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your mug to your lips. The girl looked at you with a disgusted face.

"Roommate, darling. Not nice to meet you." "Why the hell are you wearing his shirt?"

A smirk appears on your lips, far too happy that she asked the question. When you were in Vancouver, it wasn't surprising to see you wearing the boys' t-shirts, although you had a preference for Charlie's, there were times when you wore Owen's. The boys never complained about this mania and you had to continue when you moved to Los Angeles with Charlie. The scene was pretty funny, you were there drinking your coffee in a t-shirt borrowed from your roommate while his conquest from last night stared at you in disgust, decked out in another Charlie t-shirt. You took a look at the Looney Tunes t-shirt you were wearing and just shrug your shoulders.

“Old habits.” You simply said. "Yeah, you're gonna have to break this habit."

You laughed disdainfully. You didn't like this girl. Not because it was the conquest of your best friend for whom you had blatant romantic feelings. But rather because she had this condescension and believed that spending a night with Charlie gave her every right.

"What makes you think that, sweetie?"

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your posture offhand, a smirk on your lips. You weren't used to being such a bitch, but the girl in front of you pissed you off. And it was only nine in the morning.

"Well, hello, I spent the night with Charlie." "Oh yeah sure, but that doesn't mean you're dating him." "Charlie is a great guy"

She wasn't wrong. Charlie wasn't heartbroken but he was still human and a twenty-two-year-old boy. Just looking at her you knew your best friend hadn't chosen her for a serious relationship with her. The little conversation you were having with her now confirmed that he couldn't date her. Another smirk spread across your lips as she looked at you with disdain again.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nowhere near his level" she said to you

This time, you couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. Yeah, she really pissed you off. Physically, she was everything Charlie didn't like about a potential girlfriend: big breasts, much bigger than him, slightly shallow. Oh but she had a fucking ass and maybe that was why he had chosen her. Her whole body reflected Charlie's choice for a one-night stand, but not the ideal girlfriend.

"Oh honey, I'm nobody, but neither are you. Listen. You were just a one-night stand and me? Me, I'll still be here in his apartment with his t-shirts on when he brings you home, telling you that it was cool but that it will not go further. I will always be there ... "

Charlie woke up and headed straight for the kitchen. He greeted her conquest with a nod, giving her a hello. Instinctively, he approached you and put his hand on your waist before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Charlie was tactile, it was his language of love. You couldn't help but smirk at the girl, giving her a victorious look. The actor looked at your outfit and a smile appeared on his lips.

"So that's where it was! I thought I lost it in the Galapagos." he was referring to his looney tunes t-shirt

Your attention fell on Charlie and you smiled happily at him. You cheekily handed your cup of coffee.

"Coffee?" "Hell, yeah"

He grabbed your cup and took a long sip, leaving his conquest almost nonexistent to his eyes. The girl was so pissed off that she seemed to be boiling. She cleared her throat, annoyed.

"Hmm, I'm going to go" she said. "Oh wait, let me have lunch and I'll bring you back if you want." "It won't be necessary."

You bit the tip of your tongue, amused, far too happy to hide it. Charlie's conquest returned to his room to get dressed. Your roommate turned to you and gave you a questioning look.

"y/n, what did you do?" "Nothing. We were happily getting know each other. I'm surprised at your choice, by the way" "Are you getting revenge?" "Get revenge for what?" "Since ... Hawaii, you've scared all the girls I've brought back." "Did I scare them? Stop, I haven't acted any differently than usual." “You scared them away,” he repeated. "Oh come on, Charlie, please, it's not like you're going to date them."

He pulled away from you with a look of dismay. You were not wrong, he had never called back the girls he had brought back here, he did not intend to call back the one who was currently in his room. In fact, the only person he really wanted to spend time with was you. But since Hawaii, you seemed to be okay with never mentioning your night together again. This Canadian boy has been in love with you for months, maybe even years now. It quickly fell for you when you were in Vancouver.

"You're right. But I could have ..." he finally confessed "It's wrong. You know it's wrong Charlie, I know you, I'm your best friend. These are not the kind of girls you date. "Yeah… I couldn't date any of them. They just aren't you." He said, his last sentence ending in a whisper before hastening to take a sip from your cup of coffee.

You were paralyzed. Did he really just say what you've been dreaming of hearing for months? Did he just drop it like a bomb, in the middle of a morning conversation between sips of coffee?

“Wait, what?” “Nothing” “It wasn’t nothing, Charlie, you said something” “Nothing important” he repeats “Did you just say that if you didn’t date those girls it’s because they weren’t me?” “You seems to hear voices” “Charlie, I’m not joking… Did you say that?!” “Maybe” “Oh fuck, you’re an idiot!” “I am a..”

You snatched the cup of coffee from her hands and hurriedly put it on the counter. Never mind about the stains on the floor, you will clean up later. You didn't want to miss a second of this possibility. You wrapped your arms around Charlie's neck before resting your lips on his. Your best friend seemed surprised at first so much but quickly relaxed and wrapped his own arms around your waist as your lips moved to give the kiss more tender. The situation was most strange and funny; you were kissing your best friend, running your fingers through his long brown hair. You had to admit that even though you had found him attractive with his Luke's look but you couldn't imagine Charlie without that impressive mass of hair. Luke had short hair, Charlie had long hair. End of the discussion.

So, you were kissing your roommate, making up for lost time while in his room, a girl he had fucked the night before gathered her things. Charlie's conquest stepped out to head for the exit. You broke the kiss making Charlie growl in protest.

"I'm not showing you where the door is." you said. "whore .." the chick whispered.

Charlie stepped away from you and brought his one-night stand to the door, apologizing. He wasn't that kind of boy to go from girl to girl and the circumstances were really strange. The girl left, not without forgetting to curse him. When Charlie walks into the kitchen, you were sitting on the counter, a smirk on your face.

"You're such a bitch y/n" “It's my revenge for keeping me awake last night.”

His gaze was sly, his smile was mischievous and you knew he was going to find a phrase worthy of the fucking boy he could be.

"I can keep you awake for a while if you want." “A date wouldn't be too complicated, Charlie. Please be a gentleman. "You can count on me"

He gave you a softer look and you wrapped your arms around his neck again before kissing him. Ultimately, not everything that happened in Hawaii has to be restricted to Hawaii.

#charlie gillespie #charles gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp #jatp cast x reader #jatp fic #jatp cast imagine #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #julie and the phantoms

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pointnumbersixteen · 3 years

Note

How do you see The Captain's coming out, and growth in confidence and self acceptance thereafter taking place?

I like this question! …and I’m probably going to elaborate on it a bit more than many people will want to read (I noticed back when I was regularly writing essay length posts that they did not get a lot of love) and it’s probably going to get even more ramble-y than usual (brain has not been braining as cooperatively as it should recently and the decision to drink half a bottle of wine right before answering this- sorry- probably does not help), but here we are.

About coming out scenarios, none of mine are particularly elaborate. While I do think he needs to come out for his story line to progress, I can’t imagine him making a big thing out of it (long or elaborate announcements, heart-to-hearts, emotional displays of bearing his authentic self or any of the like), either with the group, or person-by-person, for several reasons:

First off, that sort of a coming-out to-do is a more modern notion, and I doubt he was a particularly modern person even when he was alive, seventy-five years ago. His notions of privacy and propriety are probably much more conservative than ours, and I feel like that makes it unlikely that he’d go into any sort of detail, at least at early in this process, about his feelings/emotions or the specificities of his attractions. We’re talking about a man who doesn’t even use his own name. It’s difficult to picture him going into depth about his desires and love life.

Secondly, he’s a bit of a social coward. (He’s not a physical coward, of course, he jumped on that bomb in the garden without hesitation, and acknowledged after the fact that he gotten caught up in the moment, and therefore hadn’t really thought about how a bomb couldn’t hurt him.) And I get it, I’m a bit of a social coward, too, so no judgement. He probably faced a lot of ridicule in his life. Being a social coward is totally fair. But he doesn’t put himself into situations that might involve awkward interpersonal interactions if he can help it, and legs it whenever interactions he’s already in become to awkward for him. I feel like he’s probably quite desperate (although he’d never admit to it) to save face and protect what bits of his ego remain unscathed.

Think about it: he could have spoken to Fanny on his own about her nightly screaming disturbing him in s1e1, they have a clear association established at the outset of the show, they leave Heather’s room together at the end of the very first scene, but he doesn’t do so until he has the weight of the whole group to back him up about the screaming at their meeting. He had to buck up his courage and give himself his little ‘over the top we go’ pep talk before going to speak to Alison in Gorilla War. Also, if there was actually something wrong with his soldiers’ horseplay after hours in Reddy Weddy- if it was breaking regulations or even his own orders for quiet hours- and he heard it, he could have gone down directly when he heard it, confronted whoever was involved and order them to stop or put them on report. But no, instead he addressed the entire group of soldiers in a sixteen point morning brief. He even dispatched Pat to confront Alison about the party in s2e2, instead doing it himself… and spit out his apology/reconciliation with Pat at the end as fast as possible. And as for legging it when things get awkward, see his retreats following the group confronting him in Getting Out and after Alison telling him he wasn’t needed in the Grey Lady- and on a more figurative than literal level, but most relevantly, his quick turn from ‘I’ll miss you’ to ‘we’ll miss you’ with Havers in Reddy Weddy.

This is not a man who wants to be in awkward or embarrassing situations. And I think that coming out, at least at first, will probably be a bit embarrassing for him- it was scandalous in his time, and I think it will take him longer to get over that feeling and come to terms with himself than it will to finally acknowledge that he’s gay. So I doubt he’d make more of it than he utterly feels he has to, at least at first. And of course, he’d have to be a bit afraid that people would judge him or stop associating with him over it, as sadly, in his own time many people would have done, and most of the ghosts are from even earlier times than he was. So that might add more hesitation…

And thirdly, he doesn’t like and/or respect many of his house mates. The other twentieth century ghosts are the only ones he spends much time with. I doubt he’d go out of his way to communicate much of anything to the rest if it wasn’t “mission related” much less discuss his sexuality with them. He mostly disregards Humphrey. See his, “Oh, it’s you.” Mary obviously doesn’t like him and he only associates with her when it might be useful for his ‘missions.’ He clearly doesn’t think much of Thomas and doesn’t really even bother including him in his plans. These aren’t people he’s going to have heart-to-hearts with.

With those constraints in place, here’s a non-exhaustive list of possibilities by which I might see his coming out finally happening. They’re really just scenarios I made for myself on how I might see him coming out and I like to keep my options open (the first three are strategies he might go for, the last is an alternate scenario, presented in decreasing levels of directness on his part):

1) The ‘pull the bandage off quickly and hope it doesn’t sting too much’ strategy.

The Captain waits for the end of one of their various group activities or meetings, where all announcements seem to be made, gets up, clears his throat, stammers a bit, announces it tersely, using the most proper popular word for homosexuality that existed in his time (think: “Heh-hem. Er. Um. Well. It has recently come to my attention that I am- er- well- as it happens- gay. I, uh, thought it should be noted. That is all.”), and then beats a hasty retreat, so he doesn’t have to try to cope with the potentially negative aftermath. Of course, there isn’t a negative aftermath, because many of the ghosts already have guessed and the rest don’t really care. Someone, probably Pat, because he does the bulk of the emotional labor in the group, and more importantly, he’s Cap’s closest friend, would have to go after him. He would of course be initially defensive, and Pat would have to sooth his feathers a bit- or maybe just spit it out over his defensiveness- that he guessed a long time ago and so had plenty of other people, and they were just waiting for him to be ready, and really, it’s fine, and no one’s going to disown him for it.

2) The ‘well maybe I should tell my friends with the hope they support me’ strategy.

He gets together with a small group, the people whose company he actually values, definitely Fanny and Pat, maybe Julian, probably Alison either at the same time or after he finishes with his ghosts pals, and says it in much the same way as the previous scenario, but waiting for their reactions rather than retreating straight away. Pat and Alison, I expect, would answer with something like ‘yeah, we figured that one out a long time ago, actually, and it’s completely fine’ and Julian’s reaction would probably be something like, ‘well, obviously.’ Fanny’s had a lot of character growth since season one, when I expect her reaction would have been very shrill and judgmental, probably still would be a touch less warm and/or nonchalant, but I picture it as something like a sigh, followed by a pat on the arm and something like, ‘well, I still like you better than everyone else here, anyway.’ Word would eventually trickle to everyone else by way of social osmosis. Or not. No one seems to care if Humphrey or the plague ghosts are well informed.

3) The ‘I’m not brave enough to actually go through the process of actually telling anyone anything about me so let’s just drop hints and hope everyone figures it out without making a big deal about it’ strategy.

The indirect approach (I’m rather fond of this one, but mostly because it was my own primary coming out approach)… he first sends out feelers to certain people on the topic of homosexuality, probably Alison, since she’s modern, hosted a lesbian wedding, and very much implied that she’d be ready to keep scandalous secrets for him in Reddy Weddy, and possibly maybe also Julian, as he’s the most sexually experienced/knowledgeable, and after Alison spent a while inundating him with ‘it’s okay to be gay’ messages (along with a sudden and entirely unexplained influx of LGBT media) as she’s socially clever enough to see that’s what he’s looking for and after Julian spent a while telling him probably far more than he ever actually wanted to know about the potentialities of gay sex, that might boost the Captain’s confidence enough to let him start dropping hints to people, instead of telling them outright (consciously commenting on the attractiveness of men they see rather than occasionally accidentally blurting it out- see ‘the handsome one’- occasionally putting forth an opinion or stance on the LGBT world ‘it would have been nice if gay marriage was acceptable when I was alive,’ maybe occasionally mentioning how certain men would make cute couple), expecting them to meet him in the middle and figure out the point on their own… of course, many of them have already realized, so this isn’t a problem. It’s entirely possible, though, that Mary (world view not terribly grounded in reality) and Kitty (lack of life experience and/or instruction about life, see the how are babies made subplot) never pick up the hints on their own and someone else eventually has to tell them.

4) The ‘someone puts him out of his misery’ scenario.

Cap acknowledges to himself that he’s gay first and then, wishing to avoid embarrassment or lack of acceptance, obviously, awkwardly, painfully tries to disguise it and in doing so draws attention to it, until a third party decides to put him out of his misery and tell him that many of them figured it out ages ago and that everyone is fine with it. Maybe Pat. Maybe Alison. I kind of like the idea of it being Fanny (with her lovely character growth and her couple of suspicious glances his way in the Perfect Day), actually, by way of something like ‘You know, I was entirely prepared to continue on living with my husband, George, keeping his secrets, about the, uh, sort of person he was, and you’re at least one better than him, given that you at least never murdered me- or, for that matter, never married some poor woman you had no interest in to shield yourself from scrutiny… and so, what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t turn my back on you for being the, uh, sort of person you are, either, and maybe things have progressed enough that you don’t actually have to keep secrets at all.’ Cap would take all of this in with a mixture of mortification and relief. I’m rather fond of this scenario, too.

As for the second bit of the question, once his sexuality is out there, though, and no one judges him or hates him for it- and some are quite supportive- I do see him becoming more self-accepting. If no one’s judging him, does he need to judge himself so harshly? And also more confident. Because some of those things that he’s always felt different about and in the past has probably been ridiculed about in the past (even if he’s in denial about being gay, he and quite a few other people had to at the very least note that he’s not particularly interested in women), are, apparently just fine now. So he’s a bit more just fine now himself. And that weight of always trying to be someone else, someone who’s just right, can lift and he can relax a bit more. And that would probably help him a lot, too. I see it as a slow sort of thawing process. No matter what way he comes out, I still see Alison as very helpfully providing a variety of LGBT media to help this process along. And maybe he’d eventually get to the point where he processed enough and warmed up enough to be able to talk more in depth, at least with his friends, about what it was like being him in repressed pre-war Britain, and what sort of men he’s attracted to (I enjoy the idea of him and Fanny- gradually overcoming her own repression- scoping out hot men together). Maybe he’ll even luck out one of his male housemates will decide (or has already decided) that bisexuality is a valid option and he’ll get a date (insert whichever ghost y’all ship him with here). I bet Alison would totally help him set up a nice date, too, with her convenient still-functional-in-the-mortal-realm hands. And it would be nice to maybe see him get a taste of actual happiness.

#bbc ghosts #the captain #coming out #sorry for the giant block of text friends #i find it difficult to help myself

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gretavanfanfic · 4 years

Text

Noisy Neighbor

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Word Count: 5000ish

Summary: The walls in your apartment are a bit thin and Neighbor!Josh likes to make noise.

You can’t deny that you have a bit of a crush on your neighbor, Josh. From the day he moved into the apartment next to yours, you were immediately attracted to his looks. And then, a few weeks later, he introduced himself to you in the hallway and you found out that he’s actually the sweetest person in the world. Your attraction intensified tenfold. Now, every time you enter or leave your apartment, you can’t stop yourself from hoping that you’ll run into him in the halls.

Though you’ve only spoken to Josh on a handful of occasions, you feel as though you know him on an intimate level due to the paper thin walls of your home. You’ve concluded that your living rooms must share a wall, because you can hear absolutely everything Josh does in the main room of your suite. You weren’t surprised when you discovered this though, considering the low price you pay for rent each month. What did surprise you was that you found it didn’t annoy you in the slightest. Josh makes quite a bit of noise, but honestly, you very much enjoy the chaos that regularly flows out of his apartment.

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s creepy, but sometimes you intentionally eavesdrop on the goings-on in Josh’s apartment. A lot of the time, it’s more entertaining than anything you could watch on TV. Josh has 3 friends (or maybe brothers, they look like they may be related) that visit so often, you frequently wonder why they all didn’t just move in together. When they’re over, the shouting and laughter is constant, and you get a major kick out of listening to their stories and antics. And then there’s Josh’s singing. Whenever he’s home alone, you can hear his angelic voice belting out song after song, some that you recognize and others that you don’t. His voice is so gorgeous, you’re sure he could sing the phone book and make it sound amazing. Why would you listen to music on your speakers when you have a front row seat to Josh’s beautiful live performances? You feel a bit guilty for your snooping, but you figure it’s harmless. If Josh didn’t want anyone to hear him, he’d quiet down.

This particular evening, though, your eavesdropping doesn’t seem quite as harmless as usual. You’re not deliberately spying on Josh. At first. You’re just settling in for a night of Chinese takeout and Netflix when a noise through the wall catches your attention. A...sexy noise. It isn’t loud, definitely more quiet than most of the sounds coming from Josh’s unit, but you hear it nonetheless. Curious, you turn the volume on the TV down and lean closer to the wall behind your couch, waiting to hear if it happens again.

A few moments later and there it is once more, an unmistakable moan. Just that small sound makes your entire body feel hot, and you press your ear even closer to the wall. Is he doing what I think he’s doing? You can’t hear anything else that would give you any more hints, but why else would he be letting out little moans here and there? The image of Josh touching himself causes wetness to build between your thighs.

Then you’re struck by another thought, one that lessens your desire slightly. What if he’s with someone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you would probably be devastated if that was the case. Though you wouldn’t even really consider Josh a friend, you’ve held out on the hope that maybe something would happen between the two of you someday. You never thought that he may have a girlfriend, or even about him sleeping with other girls.

You begin to feel dejected, until you realize that you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve been home for hours, and not once did you hear Josh’s front door open or close. You also hadn’t heard him talk to anyone during the day. He had been singing for a bit earlier, and his TV was on briefly, but that was it. If a girl had been there, you’re sure you would have heard her at some point. And so, you allow yourself to believe that Josh is in his apartment alone, scratching his own itch.

Another low groan sounds a few moments later, and you squirm in your seat, getting wetter and wetter by the second. Invested now, you mute the TV altogether so you can hear Josh without any background static. Voyeurism is not something you engage in on a regular basis, so you can’t help feeling a little dirty listening in on his “personal time.” But you can’t make yourself turn a blind eye and resume your show on Netflix either. All you can focus on is Josh and the arousal he’s brought on.

Josh’s moans are becoming louder and more frequent now. Some are small grunts, whereas others are drawn out and higher in pitch, almost whiny. You’ve never heard anything hotter in your life, and before long, you’re practically aching for him. You want to see his body, which you’re certain is toned but not overly muscular, and run your fingertips over every inch of his skin. You yearn for him to kiss you, so you can glide your tongue over his luscious lips and feel the vibration of his groans in your mouth. More than anything, you want to fuck him. Feel the pleasant stretch as he thrusts into you over and over, filling you up and satisfying your needs.

Unable to stop yourself, your right hand travels past the waistband of your leggings and into your underwear. Using your middle finger, you gather some of your wetness and drag it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive nerve. Your eyes fall shut at the feeling it elicits.

This isn’t the first time you’ve thought of Josh while getting yourself off. He’s been a staple in your fantasies ever since the day he introduced himself. Pretending it’s Josh and not your vibrator working you to orgasm makes the whole process go much more quickly. The toy has seen a significant increase in action since he moved in.

Listening to Josh masturbating on just the other side of the wall has you hot enough that you don’t even need your favorite toy right now. You’ve just barely started stimulating your clit and you’re already ridiculously close to orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and a light sweat has broken out across the back of your neck. You’re so wet, you can feel it leaking out of you and into your underwear. Only a few more circles and you know you’ll be cumming harder than you have in a long time.

And then it happens. From the other side of the wall, you hear Josh’s husky voice whine, “Oh fuck, Y/N!”

Your hand stills in your pants and your jaw drops open in disbelief. Did he just say my name? You had to have heard wrong. Or maybe you were just so horny and caught up in the moment that you imagined it.

But then, there it is again.

“Y/N! Fuck, oh my god,” followed by a much louder and lower groan.

This time, there is no mistaking it. Josh Kiszka just moaned your name while he came.

Your body is absolutely rigid, with the exception of your legs, which are visibly shaking. Being so close to the edge and then abruptly stopping stimulation will do that to you.

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to center yourself and process what you just heard. Which is impossible; you’re too turned on to even have a chance of thinking rationally. The only thing going on in your mind is: Josh! Josh! Josh!

As badly as you want to just shove your hand back down your pants and finish yourself off right now, Josh’s utterance of your name has brought out a carnal desire in you that you’re positive can only be fulfilled by actual physical contact with him. And you can’t wait for it. You need it now.

So with a stroke of courage like you’ve never experienced before, you quickly get up and wash your hands in the kitchen sink, then march toward your front door and swing it open. Foregoing shoes, you walk swiftly toward the door to Josh’s apartment and rap your knuckles against the dark green wood emblazoned with the number 201.

There’s no response at first, and you’re not really surprised considering you’re calling on him right after he finished jerking himself off. So you knock again, and this time you hear him shout, “Just a second!”

As you stand outside his door, waiting for him to appear, you begin to feel butterflies in your stomach. The worries that should have popped into your head earlier are now showing themselves, and there’s a lot of them. What if he really is with a girl? What if I’m not the Y/N he’s thinking about? Why did I not change before coming over here? Is my hair a mess? Did I even put on deodorant today? What if he’s not interested?

And then the door clicks open and there stands a pink-cheeked Josh, shirtless with a pair of black sweatpants riding low on his slim hips. You can tell you’ve caught him off-guard because his eyes widen significantly when they land on you. Unable to exercise any form of self-control, you allow yourself to examine his bare torso, eyes dancing from his pecs, past his toned abdomen, to the wispy happy trail that disappears under his low-slung pants. On your way up, you ogle his muscular arms. He catches you staring, and you see the blush spread down to his chest, small red patches cropping up as he takes you in.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Y/N! Hi! Sorry, I- uh, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

“Yeah, that’s my bad. Sorry,” you apologize, bouncing from foot to foot. “Are- are you busy?”

You figure this is a safe way to start the conversation. Not being too straightforward, but also making it clear that you’re here for a reason and it may take up some of his time.

Josh looks even more surprised and you can hear the shock in his voice when he too loudly exclaims, “No! No, come on in.” He moves backward and opens up the door wider, allowing you to step through the frame.

The door shuts behind you, and you and Josh stand awkwardly in his entryway for a moment. Taking the opportunity to see how Josh lives, you glance around the living area and note that it looks exactly like you expected it to. With a layout identical to yours, it is messy, but not overly so, and cozy, with personal touches like photos and knick knacks spread throughout the room. Every inch is reminiscent of Josh. Then you catch sight of Josh’s phone, lying upside down on the sofa, like it was thrown down quickly when he got up to answer the door, and a dark green t-shirt crumpled into a ball on the floor.

The shirt reminds you of Josh’s current state of undress, and your eyes flick back to his half-naked frame. His body is more gorgeous than you imagined, and you long to put your hands on him. You feel almost predatory as you gawk at him and lick your lips.

Breaking the silence, Josh asks, “So what can I do for you, neighbor? Need to borrow a cup of sugar?” He grins at you, making eye contact for a moment, then glances away and rubs his palm along the back of his neck.

You let out a nervous giggle at the cliche and greedily take in the sight of his newly exposed underarm. He’s so pretty, you think to yourself.

Shaking your head, you answer, “No, um, actually I had a question for you.”

Before you make your move, you need to be absolutely certain that Josh doesn’t have a girlfriend. You would never forgive yourself for unknowingly moving in on someone else’s significant other.

“Okay,” Josh shrugs his shoulders. “Shoot,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You know you’re being forward, and you know this could end up being a very uncomfortable situation, but you force yourself to question, “Are you single?”

It’s not what Josh is expecting to hear. His back straightens and his eyebrows shoot up, shock evident. He hastily recovers, however, and begins to nod rapidly. “Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Once the words leave his mouth, you watch as he bites his bottom lip, then soothes where he bit with his tongue. The action makes your clit throb with want.

What do you say now? “That’s great, because I want to fuck you?” Definitely not. You scour your brain for a way to casually bring up your attraction to him, beginning to lose the burst of confidence that brought you here in the first place. But then, you look up to Josh’s face to see that his eyes are black, pupils fully dilated despite being in a well-lit room. Really, the only explanation for it that you can think of is desire. And you’re sure if you were to look in a mirror right now, your pupils would be dilated as well.

At last, your hunger for him overtakes your nerves and you state, “You know, the walls here are pretty thin…”

Josh’s eyes practically bulge out of his head and you watch him nervously run a hand through his hair. He doesn’t make eye contact when he finally breathes out, “Oh.”

Feeling bold, you walk a few steps forward so that you’re almost toe to toe with Josh. He audibly sucks in a breath, taken aback by your close proximity. His eyes search your face for an explanation for your closeness, while yours eagerly examine his impeccable features. You allow yourself a moment to study his nicely shaped eyebrows, rich, chocolate eyes, nose that is perfectly sized for his face, plump, pink lips, and his skin, dotted with a small number of acne scars, but glowing nevertheless. You’re dying to reach out and touch him.

Instead, you admit, “I heard you a few minutes ago...it sounded an awful lot like you were moaning my name.”

Looking up at him from under your eyelashes, you see Josh’s cheeks flush bright red. He doesn’t reply right away, just darts his eyes around the room with noticeable tension in his jaw. His hand rises up again to run through his hair, then falls to his chest where he uses his short nails to scratch across the skin there. His palm stays splayed across his chest as he focuses his stare on his feet and confesses, “Listen, I’m sorry. I know it’s weird, but I didn’t realize I was being that loud. I really hope you don’t think I’m some disgusting creep. I just- I find you really attractive and my thoughts just sort of naturally land on you when I’m je- when I’m doing that.”

Truthfully, you were not expecting Josh to readily confirm your suspicions, but you’re definitely pleased that he did not hold back. A thrill runs through your body at his words, and again, you feel a rush of wetness between your legs. Fidgeting back and forth on your feet, you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

You know that Josh witnesses the motion because he openly gawks at you and the hand on his chest abruptly falls to his side. Your eyes follow his arm, and on their way down, you notice a sizable bulge has formed in his sweatpants. A shiver runs down your spine and your heart flutters knowing he’s just as turned on as you are right now.

Ready to relieve yourself of the tension you’ve been feeling for at least 20 minutes now, you close the distance between your bodies and firmly set your palms on Josh’s chest. Not allowing him time to question your closeness, you divulge, “Actually, I thought it was pretty hot. I, uh, I wish I was able to witness it with my eyes and not just my ears. But it kind of looks like you’re ready to go again, and I know I cou-”

Josh doesn’t let you finish your sentence, placing both hands on either side of your face and crashing his lips to yours. You respond readily, tracing his full lower lip with your tongue until it parts from his top lip and allows you entrance. Busying your tongue with his, you both relax into the kiss, and he combs some hair out of your face with his fingers. Driven by pure lust, you slide your right hand down his chest, fingertips combing through the happy trail that quite frankly, makes your mouth water, then break the kiss. In a whisper, you ask, “Can I?” and gesture towards his prominent bulge. He answers with a quick nod, and you cup the tent in his pants in your palm.

Groaning into your mouth (like you hoped he would), Josh grips your ass and tugs you forward so there is no space between your bodies. Your hand is sandwiched between both of your groins, but you do your best to stroke his dick through his pants, and revel in the small sounds he emits.

Pulling away from your mouth, Josh kisses a trail over your jaw and down your throat, lightly sucking your pulse point, then soothes the area with his tongue. Meanwhile, his right hand snakes under your shirt and lingers on the skin of your waist for just a moment, before venturing higher and cupping your breast through your thin bralette. The pad of his thumb locates your nipple through the fabric and begins rubbing slow circles, causing you to inadvertently let out a small squeal.

Josh chuckles against your neck at the noise, but the laugh turns strained as you increase the pressure your hand is applying to his very hard member. In retaliation, his left hand finds its way under your top and lightly pinches your other nipple, both of them now achingly stiff and sensitive. Each time his fingertips make contact, you feel the pleasure shoot straight down to your pussy.

Craving more skin to skin contact, you suddenly take a step back and yank your shirt over your head, followed directly by your flimsy bra. Josh hungrily inspects your exposed breasts for just a minute, then drags you back into him so your naked torsos are flush against each other. Pressing his lips back to yours, your tongues again battle for dominance.

Not even a minute later, Josh begins shuffling the two of you backwards, until you find yourself in his bedroom with your legs hitting the edge of his bed. There, he encourages you onto the navy blue comforter and you scoot up so you can lie back against the soft white pillows. You’re surprised to find that his bed is neatly made, and his room is free of clutter. You kind of expected it to be a pig-sty.

Josh steals your attention again by crawling up your body and settling himself between your legs. Instead of kissing you, he attaches his lips to your collarbone, where he sucks for a second, then works his way down to the swell of your boob. His mouth closes around your nipple and sucks, causing you to breathe out a sigh of satisfaction.

You wrap your legs around his waist and buck up into him, hoping he’ll get the hint and return the favor by grinding down into you. He does, and you close your eyes and throw your head back against the pillow.

Josh switches sides and begins lavishing your other nipple with his tongue, while you find the waistband of his pants and reach inside, quickly discovering that he decided against wearing underwear today. You’re not disappointed by the easy access he’s provided to his thick cock.

Grasping it in your palm, you give his dick a few strokes, then run your thumb over the tip in circles. Josh appreciates this, as indicated by the slow, “Fuckkk,” he breathes out. You continue your motions, loving watching Josh react to your touch almost as much as the feel of his mouth on your bare skin.

When he’s had enough of torturing your nipples, Josh’s mouth descends down your torso, kissing a circle around your belly button, and continues lower until he reaches the top of your leggings. He silently asks for permission with his eyes, and when you give it to him, he slips his fingers under the waistband and slides both the pants and your (very damp) underwear down your legs. The movement forces you to let go of his cock, and you mourn the loss of contact.

You’re not upset for long, however, because, after Josh tosses your clothing to the ground, he positions himself on his stomach between your thighs, face lined up with your dripping heat. He lets out a deep groan at the sight of your exposed lower half. Teasing you, he attaches his lips to your inner thigh, kissing down it and toward your center before moving to the other side. This time, when he reaches the top of your inner thigh, he begins sucking on the skin, causing a gasp to escape your lips. He doesn’t let up until he’s left a dark purple bruise, which you’re certain will sting tomorrow and remind you of the fantasy come true that’s occurring right now.

After he’s satisfied with the hickey, Josh pushes your thighs apart so you’re spread wide open in front of him. You see a small smirk form on his lips right before he leans forward and licks a slow stripe up your slit. As soon as his tongue touches your clit, your back arches off the mattress and a quiet whimper sounds from your mouth. He grins against you at your response and repeats the gesture multiple times in quick succession. When he adds his fingers to the mix, one gently probing your entrance while his tongue’s attention stays on your clit, your hands fly to his head and clutch his curls in bliss.

He continues licking and sucking your bundle of nerves in perfect time with the thrust of his fingers until you’re panting and absolutely desperate for more. You know he’s also craving more, because he’s begun grinding his hips into the mattress in dire need of friction.

Giving his curls a small tug, you watch as he lifts his head and darts his tongue out to lick your wetness off his lips. He stares back, waiting for a queue from you on what you want next.

Once you catch your breath, you pull him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, then practically beg, “Josh, I really, really need you to fuck me right now. Please.”

Not wasting a second, Josh scurries off the bed and speedily removes his pants, his rigid cock springing free from its confines. You shamelessly stare as he strolls over to his nightstand and retrieves a condom, then kneels next to your body on the mattress.

It’s in this moment that it dawns on you that you’re about to sleep with the boy you’ve had a crush on for months now. The thought makes your stomach do a flip-flop in your abdomen. You allow yourself to hope that something else may bloom from this, that this isn’t the last time you’ll be naked in Josh Kiszka’s bed.

Once Josh has finished putting on the condom, he nudges his way back between your legs and leans forward so that your body is supporting most of his weight. You delight in the feel of his naked form crushing yours. Holding himself up with one hand on the mattress, he reconnects your lips and licks into your mouth, giving you the most sensual kiss yet. As he kisses you, he reaches down and grabs hold of himself, tapping your clit with the tip of his dick and making you let out a soft moan.

Lips breaking away from yours, Josh looks you directly in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

Appreciating his need for explicit consent, you smile at him and wind your arms around the back of his neck. Playing with the curls there, you reply, “Yes, definitely,” and pull him down so you can busy your lips on his neck.

While you’re sucking your own hickey onto his skin, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes in until you can feel his balls against your ass. You mewl against his neck at the feeling of fullness and fist the comforter in your hands. He feels so good you could cry.

Once he’s fully seated in you, Josh blows out a shaky breath, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. He stays still for a moment, giving you some time to adjust to his length, before pulling out slightly and thrusting back into your heat. His rhythm is slow at first, but you don’t mind since it gives you some time to just feel him. And he appears to be enjoying himself, if his eyes being clamped shut and his mouth wide open is any indication.

When he does decide to pick up the pace, the noises your bodies make as he slips in and out of you amplify. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it hot. Looking down to where you are connected intensifies the experience even more, the sight of your slick all over his cock and in his pubic hair making you clench around him.

Josh groans at the sudden tightness and follows your line of sight. “Holy shit, you’re so wet. Oh my god,” he whimpers. Then, he drags the fingers of his right hand down your body, runs them through your wetness, and begins massaging your clit.

You’re on cloud nine, and you never want to leave. You truly didn’t know sex could be this fantastic. Josh is attending to your every need like no one else has before, and you’re beyond happy that you made the decision to knock on his door.

His pace picks up even more and you lift your hips off the beds to meet his, thrust for thrust. Hoping to pull him in even closer, you dig your heels into his ass and use it as leverage for your thrusts. Doing this changes the angle just the smallest amount, but now there’s a delicious pressure being applied to the perfect place inside you every time Josh fills you up. This combination of his cock hitting your g-spot and his thumb on your clit has you quickly approaching climax, your face inadvertently scrunching up and your breathing becoming more labored.

Josh notices the changes in your facial expression and breathing and lowers himself to plant a kiss on your lips. Speeding up his motions on your clit, he kisses over to your ear and whispers, “That’s it, baby. Let me see what you look like when you cum.”

The words set something off inside you and you reach your peak, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as a loud gasp leaves your lips. Eyes screwed shut, you moan out, “Josh! Fuck!” and feel yourself gush around him. Your orgasm is prolonged by Josh continuing his movements, making your legs shake and sweat bead at your forehead. The feeling is so intense, you have to swat at Josh’s hand to get him to stop petting your clit and overstimulating you.

Your orgasm has caused your pussy to clench around Josh, and you know he’s affected because his thrusts start to become more erratic. Even though you’re absolutely spent, you reach up to nibble on his ear and run your nails down his back, encouraging him to let go. He plunges into you just a few more times, and then he’s letting out a low grunt and calling out your name in a strained voice.

Josh doesn’t pull out right away, remaining inside you while the both of you come down from your highs and catch your breath. He kisses you, slow and gentle this time, making you feel all sorts of things that it is definitely too soon for you to be feeling. When he finally pulls away, he smiles down at you, then pulls out and gets up to dispose of the condom.

He’s back a second later, flopping beside you on his bed and tossing an arm over his forehead. Still grinning, he turns to you and says, “God, that was so hot. Definitely better than I imagined.”

A contented hum sounds from your lips. “Yeah? I’m glad. You can go ahead and add that to your spank bank.”

Josh chuckles at your joke, then extends his hand to play with your hair. Looking at him now, you know that you can’t allow this to be your last time together, and so, you decide to make a little confession of your own.

“I think about you, too, sometimes. When I- when I touch myself, I think about you, too.”

Josh looks surprised for only a second, and then a light giggle leaves his mouth.

“Do you happen to own a vibrator, Y/N?” he questions, a smirk etched on his face.

Cheeks burning, you look away in embarrassment, but still confirm his suspicions with a small, “Yes.”

At your answer, Josh’s face lights up in a full blown grin and he drapes his body over you once more, lips hovering over yours. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he playfully jests, “You know, thin walls go both ways. The sound of small appliances, say, vibrators, travels pretty easily. And it sounds like yours gets quite a bit of use.”

You know it’s stupid to feel embarrassed, since you’re naked in his bed, but you can’t help averting your eyes from his.

Now giggling at your awkwardness, Josh taps your nose with his to get you to look at him again. “Hey,” he laughs, “Next time you’re thinking of whipping that vibrator out, you can just come see me instead. I’ll take care of you.”

Laughing along with him, you jokingly whisper back, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and seal your lips to his, feeling unusually grateful that you were given such a noisy neighbor.

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marzipanandminutiae · 3 years

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Reporting back! It was a stunning film and the costuming was amazing! Although the love story between Thomas and Edith was nice, I found myself wanting to know more about Lucille and what she went through. I was thinking about how Jessica said she played Lucille as being into women and I thought the scene where she collects a lock of hair from Edith and braids it lovingly before she smells it really stood out to me in that aspect. Do you think she keeps trophies because she loved them too?

And if she did love the women she killed, do you think she ultimately kills them out of shame for possibly loving someone other than Thomas who has kept her safe and loved for the majority of her life?

I'm not sure she loved them, or even Edith. I think she might have been sexually attracted to some of them- there are DEFINITELY interactions she has with Edith where I'm like "outstanding heterosexual Lucille Sharpe, everybody." And I think the braids could certainly have an element of that, except the one from her mother, of course. Besides being your standard Serial Killer Trophies(TM), they also echo the significance of hair in the 19th/early 20th century: in mourning jewelry, or as tokens from a living lover, friend, or relative.

I think she kills them for exactly the reason she says she kills them. For the money, and on some level, to keep Thomas to herself. There was never really a danger of him straying until Edith, but I can't imagine Lucille enjoys seeing someone else be Lady Sharpe and share even a feigned intimacy with her brother. I doubt it's actually out of guilt at any attraction she might feel, though that attraction probably feeds her general animosity towards them.

(Interesting note- a baronet's daughter or sister has no title of her own. Only Thomas' wife would ever be Lady Sharpe- not that most of the other characters probably know the exact protocol. Whether Lucille using the title is a research fail or a subtle nod to how she really sees their relationship is anyone's guess.)

As for love...well, on a surface level, she never lets herself get to know them well enough to love them. She never sees a reason to- at best they're good for money, fantasies, and perhaps a few barely-too-intimate touches that she tells herself are all about intimidation.

And on a deeper level, I think if Lucille ever caught herself having Emotions towards anyone but Thomas, she honestly would have no idea how to process that. She might just...not acknowledge it at all and try to get that person out of her life by any means necessary.

Because they're twisting her mind! They're trying to come between her and Thomas! They're manipulative schemers intentionally clouding her judgment, since Everyone Else In The World Is Against Her, Duh!

God, it must be really sad and exhausting to be her. Just like. Mentally. But I digress.

I just don't think it would ever occur to her to be in love with any of them. Thomas is her source of love, and it's been drummed into her from the beginning that he's the only one, so...yeah.

Also, writing Lucille experiencing non-possessive love would be the slowest of slow burns imaginable. Like. You'd pretty much have to bring her forward to the present and put her in intensive therapy, and MAYBE by the time she's 45 she could manage it.

Anyway, thank you for giving me an excuse for more character meta! This is something I've thought a lot about, since I've written pretty much exclusively Lucille-centric femslash and I want to keep her in-character.

Glad you enjoyed the movie!

#ask #crimson peak #anon #it's the weirdest thing to love a character you don't root for at all #like. I do not WANT Edith to die. Edith is awesome and Lucille is unquestionably the bad guy here #but she's such a well-written and compelling and surprisingly sympathetic bad guy #and while Edith is also fleshed-out and interesting #more of her Whole Deal is on the surface #so you don't have to analyze her as hard #character meta #long post

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cautionworks · 3 years

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Okay, so I wanted to write some NSFW Headcanons for Hisoka. All of these headcanons I said are purely based on my interpretation. I have read some other Hisoka headcanons before but I forgot about them a while ago. Plus I know nothing about actual sex. So I'll have fun writing this. Here we go lol.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends on who's he with. If it was just a one-night stand he won't attempt to be comforting or try to care about the other party. The most He'll do is clean himself and nothing more. If he had a "significant other" that's a different story. He would cuddle the hell out of you. I imagine him as a clingy person (Which I hate). Once he's finished he just wants to fall asleep with you under his arms. He finds it relaxing to have your back against his chest. Especially when it's soft.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The back. I do not know why but I have the feeling that he would like a person's back. Especially if the person has slightly defined back muscles. Something about a person's back seems so vulnerable to Hisoka that he leans towards it whenever he’s behind someone he finds attractive. It's part of the reason why he likes to be behind people. Because he feels it's the most vulnerable place and he won't hesitate to take advantage of it when it comes to his enemies. Seriously don’t have this man around women with shirts that expose the backside. Or bikinis. He will not stop staring. Now I think about it I think he’ll like a virgin sweater.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

Hisoka will eat it/swallow it. He's no stranger when it comes to being nude in his abode. So him being in his natural self, he won't hesitate to taste his own or his partner's bodily fluid. (Not pee you weirdos).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hisoka is a secretive man. It's literally what his name means. When asked direct questions he'll find a way to dodge them without seeming suspicious. And he's a liar. But when it comes to the bedroom. It's another side of him. He's not so secretive about it. It's just no one asks him about it and so he never felt the need to mention it. But when he did he will say it all. This man has done very risque things in his life. He once fucked a girl in an office building right after he killed her boss. There’s was a huge gathering of people including the girl's boyfriend. And he did it in one of those rooms where there's a glass that's see-through on one side and the other is not. Which the boyfriend happened to be there. You can guess which side he did it on. In the end, that girl was left with the time of life of her life and the loss of her partner and her job.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Extremely experienced. I'm sorry I'm a firm believer that Hisoka got laid many times by various women and men. If he's so strategic and calculated in fighting people then it's no surprise that he has skills in the bedroom. Plus he needs the release. I can't imagine how bored and frustrated he is when he can't kill anyone or there are no strong opponents. So it's understandable that he looks for partners to ease his stress. If there's nobody available at the moment. Then he will do what any man would do. Le master debate.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Again this one depends on who's he with. If he just with one of his late-night booty calls he would do the normal doggy style. If he's with someone he's heavily interested in. He will do all sorts of positions. His favorite position is where he can always see your face. Because one he wants to know if he's doing a good job. Two. He likes to watch your face morph into different facial expressions as he touches you in different ways.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be hella silly sometimes. If he's having sex with you for a while he will feel comfortable being playful. Of course, he can be serious if he needs to. But that rarely ever happens. The only times he would get serious if he was actively trying to get you pregnant for whatever reason. Which is not an issue. He uses bungee gum. It contains rubber and gum. Free condoms everyone. (Lol)

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Oh hell yeah the carpet matched the drapes! You were surprised that it was the same hair color as his hair. You were so in disbelief that you considered that he just dyed it. Which was not the case. Let's just say Hisoka likes to keep things short. Normally you would find it to be shaved. Yet, sometimes he'll leave some hair to grow. A little hair never really bothered him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

*sigh* This one depends. Ima skip this one because Hisoka is not romantic. Just kidding. Because I think he would be good in the bedroom, I think he CAN be a romantic partner. Romantic how? I don’t know he can be that’s all there’s to it. (Talk about laziness)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it more often than the average person. Like I said in my (E = Experience) Hisoka would do it if there’s nobody available at the moment. What I didn’t say is where and when he would do it. He’ll do it anywhere. This man has no shame. He will do it in a church, public bathroom, or hospital bed. Inside or out. It did not matter to him. Unless if it was raining. That would be his own little rule but he breaks it all the time. For some reason, many opportunities for sex happened to be on rainy days. When? He’ll do it even when he has a mission to do with Illumi. If he’s in the middle of a job and He's in horni mode. He’ll find a way to release without anyone knowing. He could do it right in front of a person without them knowing. Sometimes he just stands there with an orgasmic face on. The only way he’s able to masturbate in public is because he is using bungee gum. I know for a fact he’s use’s this ability in his sexual encounters with people especially for himself. This man could just stand there and you wouldn’t know if he was just being weird or he’s just doing it again.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

KINK SHAMING IS HIS KINK! I’m just kidding. Without a doubt, Hisoka would have one or two kinks. Bondage. Bondage. Bondage. As boring and well known this kink is. It makes sense at least to me it does. Hisoka bungee gum ability can grab, stick or even trap a person. So he finds pleasure in watching his partner's skin be wrapped in his bungee gum. He has so much control over it. How tight it can be. How rubbery or gummy it can be depending on the situation.Another thing I’d like to say. Hisoka is A SADIST AND MASOCHIST. He likes giving and receiving pain. That’s just how it is.

L = Location (Favorite places to do they do)

Anywhere that has a good spot to fuck you against something. Any surface that he can place you on. But if he were to have a “favorite place” it would be in places that are morally wrong to do or somewhere exciting like a carnival/circus. Hisoka hasn’t set limits to himself so usually, it's his partner that sets the boundaries.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If he sees you in revealing clothing (Especially if your back is completely exposed) his wood is rising. You could just be lying on your stomach on the couch, scrolling on the phone. If you’re wearing a bra or nothing on and Hisoka happens to be there. There’s no doubt he'll find ways to lay his hands on you. It's not just the back that could turn him on. THIGHS AND HAMSTRINGS will have the man going. In particular, he likes it when it's Thicc/meaty. My man likes dem Thicc thighs. (Lol)

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

This one is only one of my most important headcanons ever. And I won’t accept anything other than this. Rape/Noncon. Hisoka does not find any joy in forcing himself on his partners. It’s not fun for him if his partner isn’t enjoying it either. The biggest turn-off for him would have to be anything related to bodily wastes like pee or poo.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Oh, he likes receiving it more than giving it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy giving his significant other pleasure too. I would say his skill level is pretty good. Let’s just say when he does it, it's more than enough to please his partner. When he receives it expect lots of hair pulling and heavy groans.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fuck! It depends on his mood. Normally he likes to do it slow and sensual. But on a bad day, he does it rough and fast. A Good example of this was after Chrollo told him he can not use nen. Hisoka kept his emotions to himself. The only face he allowed himself to show was his normal displeased face. But inside he’s pissed. Once he leaves the troupe he heads back to his partner's place and sleeps with them. At least he released his frustration without killing anyone. (Omg Imagine fucking Hisoka was the leading cause of people still alive) Other than that he just aggressively masturbates.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

*Deep inhaling* Hisoka IS THE KING OF QUICKIES. He’s a master at it. While he’s patient for riping fruits he rarely has patience for sexual activities. He's on the go constantly. If he finds someone that catches his eye he’ll go after them. So a nice quickie is great and all but it doesn’t entirely satisfy him. Because it doesn’t satisfy him overall, a proper well spent “shagging” (This will be the first and last time I’ll ever write “Shagging”) He’s happy. Just happy that he can give his all. Which he can not do often.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Absolutely! Hisoka has his life on gamble all the time. Whether it may be life-threatening or a simple card game. Risking taking is his character. Even if it's too crazy. He’ll do it anyway. He's an exhibitionist for sure. He’ll let people watch as long no one touches his partner.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

To my knowledge. IRL men need a break after sex. In the show, Hisoka was able to clear the hunter's exam easily. So we know Hisoka has a lot of endurance than the average human. He’s stronger and faster. So that means Hisoka will not get tired after one round of sex. I think he can go at least 10 rounds. Of course, Hisoka would get tired at some point. He’s still human. Hisoka just has a lot of stamina. And that’s a fact.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yall are probably gonna hate me for this but Hisoka doesn’t own toys. If his partner wants it during their time together, he will not hesitate to get it/use it. He doesn’t feel the need to use it since he’s very confident in his ability to please his partner without the use of toys. For himself? if wants something inside him then he’ll just look for a guy that’s decent for his standards. But that doesn’t stop him from using a dildo/vibrator for himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Hisoka is a sadistic devil. He can be cruel sometimes. One time he had this girl close to climax and he stopped in the middle of it. Or He would cause arousal to his partner and pretend it was all an accident. He’s a huge teaser. He likes to watch his partner be in ecstasy and switch to fits of anger.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s a fucking whale. (LMAO) He’s the reason why kids know what moans sound like. He’s hella vocal in his private moments. He so loud that almost every troupe member recognizes his moans every time they hear them. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be quiet. Contrary to popular belief, Hisoka can be dead silent when he needs to be. He can be quiet as a mouse. Even quieter than the mouse. Now, what does he sound like? Well, we all heard his moans his fights. But I think it's different. I think his moans in fights are different while masturbating/sex. Just a slight difference. His moans would be more intense and he's a heavy breather. His tone of moans is a bit feminine with a tint of masculinity. He has the best of both worlds.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes to have pictures of you. Like a lot. He has a private gallery full of pictures of you on his phone. That’s why this time he actually takes care of his phone. He’s prone to get his phone destroyed in his missions. So he’s much careful with it now. These pictures can range from cute photos of you and him together to butt naked pics of you not looking.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

Now you horny Hisoka Simps think he has a 12-inch dick but I don’t think that’s the case. (I mean come on) I know there are Chinese HxH fans who took the time to measure his length by looking at manga panels. Based on what I found. Hisoka is 5 inches long (aroused) and 6 inch Inches long (aroused). To make him above “Average”. He is 6 inches long (aroused) and 7 inches Inches long (aroused). Beyond that I don’t know how a female or male have can have a size like that fit in them. Or maybe I’m not educated enough on this topic. I don’t know and I don’t care.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very High. A lot of people who write Hisoka smut fics tend to make him a horny bastard. For me, I think that is the case. But my reasons are different. As I said in my E = Experience. Hisoka would look for partners to ease his stress. His obsession with finding/fighting strong opponents takes a toll on his mental and physical state. So once he can't think of another outlet for his tremendous amounts of energy, he'll use it to please himself with different partners.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

I'm going to say that depends on the person. If he only did 2-3 rounds of sex with an average person he's not going to fall asleep easily. Eventually, he will. Due to being bored and little tiredness. If he were to do it with a skilled nen user like Machi. He would get tired a lot more.

Oh woah that took forever to write! Let me just say it again this is purely my own headcanons. The questions are not mine only my answers. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

#hisoka x machi #machi x hisoka #hisokansfw #nsfwheadcanons #hisoka headcanons #hisokansfwheadcanons

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aros001 · 3 years

Text

Read through light novel vol. 8. Random thoughts.

It's funny that what's made me the angriest thus far in this series is Priestess getting her clothes stolen. Closest was Wizard Boy's arrogant ignorance. With the goblins I feel horror and disgust and yeah there's anger there too, but for whatever reason I had just such a strong reaction of "That bitch!" when the girl stole the mail from Priestess and made her cry.

The news that the first princess had been kidnapped by goblins was enough to make the king stand up from his throne.

Okay, I was mad but not that mad!

“About, that...” Witch, who had produced her pipe from nowhere, gave Priestess a heavy-lidded look. Erk... Priestess felt her heart skip a beat; she put a hand to her chest. Would she be able to have this effect on people someday? It was going to be a long time coming...

That does make me wonder, has there ever been a design for Priestess as an adult, be it official or fan-art? She is only 16, so even if she doesn't get much bustier she should still reasonably grow a bit. It's interesting to imagine her and Goblin Slayer anywhere near a similar height.

Also, this is me probably looking too deep into things, but between Witch, Sword Maiden and even a lot of her interactions with Noble Fencer, does anyone else ever get the feeling Priestess might be bisexual? I hesitate to say that because usually I dislike how often I see people insist that a deep friendship/connection/admiration immediately equals love, but how the narration sometimes describes how Priestess is thinking about some other women makes it sound a lot more like attraction than just envy over body proportions. I say bi and not just gay because she does seem to have at least some romantic feelings for Goblin Slayer, even if it is just a desire for his attention and approval.

That aside, I do really like that she wants to be more like Witch, or at least how she perceives Witch. Cool, powerful, knowledgeable, elegant, stacked. I've always had a soft spot for characters who have another person they admire as their goal to be like and are so humble that they don't quite see the positive effect they already have on those around them. The person who admires someone for their positive qualities not yet seeing that they too are admired for similar qualities.

The skin her vestments revealed was perfectly white, almost translucent, as if untouched by the sun. It meant that the tinge of rose in her cheeks was probably not just from the light. She almost seemed like a harlot—and there were temples that kept sacred prostitutes.

What the f**k is a sacred prostitute?

Given that we know High Elf Archer sleeps in the nude, that's twice in this book Goblin Slayer just barges into a woman's room while she's not dressed, first with Cow Girl and then with her to wake her up.

“I know it’s hard,” Goblin Slayer said with utmost seriousness. “When I was a child, I would lay in bed trying to find out how long I had to keep my eyes closed before it would be morning.”

Again, one of the big draws of this series for me and why I think it works is that it takes trauma seriously. The raping goblins aren't just a gimmick to make the series seem edgy. It addresses that these creature would really mess a person up and that the lingering trauma is treated with understanding, never like it's cowardice or foolishness. How this series handles Sword Maiden especially is something I really respect. She comes in to save the day at the end but it's clear it's taking everything she has just to be there. How she froze up when she was called on in the court to deal with the goblins and the relief like a bright light when Goblin Slayer came in to take the job. The position she's in of being powerful enough to face the Demon King but unable to fight "mere" goblins and no one aside from those who've personally experienced the sheer horror of the goblins able to understand, adding to her feelings of isolation and helplessness. It's really good stuff.

I remember when I first started with Goblin Slayer and I saw some people complaining that the series was kind of dull because he never fights anything other than goblins. One, that's just flat-out not true, as he's fought many non-goblin creatures. He just has no interest in fighting anything that's not a goblin. But even when it's just the goblins, I think this series does a good job at making the goblins always feel like a threat and shaking things up often enough. Giving them new tactics, new leaders, new bases of operation, even new breeds like the Goblin Paladin. Every time they're doing something even slightly different from the norm for them it always sparks some dread about what's coming. The moment this volume mentioned a band of goblins with identical tattoos marking them it was just an instant "Oh, that can't be good" from me, which leads into the Goblin Priest, a big cause for alarm given how useful Priestess has proven herself to be, which led into the weird demon arm thing. It's like complaining that a character never fights anything other than humans or dragons or vampires. The power level doesn't matter if it's the same kind of human/dragon/vampire every time. Be it the things that use goblins as their minions/followers or the goblins themselves, I personally think there's enough variety involved to keep things interesting.

A nice moment with Priestess visiting Wizard's grave (so this is the leaked image that got the false rumor started) and, something I'm really hoping for, the possible return of Fighter, even if it's just Priestess eventually finding the courage to see her again at least once. Again, the reason the goblins work is because what they do isn't just a gimmick. Several volumes after her first party's wipe, Priestess is still thinking about them, lamenting their loss, thinking about what could have been, and how difficult it'll be for them to see each other again after what happened. They weren't just Priestess' origin story, they were real (albeit fictional) people, taken before their time and violated in the worst way possible and they shouldn't be just a footnote. Be it for Priestess and Wizard's brother, they should and do still matter.

She strengthened her barriers as an attack came from a strange angle; Sage was thinking fast. It seemed likely that this thing, this shade—if it could be called that—learned by absorbing other living things. They were simply lucky that the creature it was trying to parasitize at the moment was so incredibly stupid. But... Sage gave voice to the obvious question. “How did the corpse of a goblin drop onto a mountaintop...?”

Holy shit, that's hilarious. And the best part is, there was build up to it. Back in vol. 6 when Goblin Slayer used a scroll to flood a nest he did believe there were some goblins he wasn't able to get. Throughout the series it's been noted he doesn't like using the same tricks too many times in a row in case the goblins learn from him, thus the importance of making sure every goblin he encounters he kills. If some escaped, yeah, it makes total sense he'd change to a different type of location for the Gate scroll, just in case he ever meets up with goblins whom are expecting a flood to pop out.

Second only to this with how good the set-up was has to be Priestess turning the blood from the Goblin Priest's ritual into water, ruining its sacrifice to the dark gods. She discovered she could do that last volume but it seemed like she never would again because she's forbidden from using her miracles to deliberately harm another living being (even a goblin). This was a very clever way of bringing it back, having her learn from her experiences while still being devote to the Earth Mother.

Priestess noticed that her hand was still clinging to his and blushed. She made to disentangle her fingers—hesitated—brushed his hand softly and, finally, pulled hers away. She was humiliated, pathetic, pitiful...and yet. I want to be... ...a source of strength to him. That day, she stored up the smallest of prayers in her heart. One day, she swore, she would be.

All shipping and such aside, this is something I really hope to see someday. That point in the series where Priestess is no longer Goblin Slayer's sidekick but rather his partner. Someone he can have truly walk and fight beside him as an equal, easing the burden on his shoulders, until the day all goblins are gone.

What kind of world is it where I'm thinking "Thank goodness, the princess was only severely beaten and nearly sacrificed to a dark god"?

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/g4llnd/read_through_light_novel_vol_8_random_thoughts/

#goblin slayer #random thoughts #reddit repost

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Note

hiii what about a penelope garcia x fem!reader where she has a crush on reader has to come to terms with not being entirely straight? or even including the team supporting her too? :) x

Revelation - P. Garcia

Hi darling! Sorry this took so long! Had some changes in my personal life and took a hiatus!

Hope you enjoy!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

For her entire life, Penelope had been discovering who she was. The death of her parents sent her spiraling, but that spiral took a course that helped her piece together the puzzle that was her being.

For some time.

Y/F/N was like a volcanic eruption. A beautiful disaster that, no matter what her intentions were, threw the life of Penelope Garcia through the ringer in the best way she could imagine.

She found herself drawn to the woman more than she had been to any other. Even Derek.

She worked in close quarters with the woman, allowing her to be the first being to share her space for longer than a single case. Y/N was a technical analyst on near equal skill level of Penelope, with a specialization in hacking and decoding. Her skills were utilized efficiently by the BAU, and she became fast friends with the Blonde Bombshell who had occupied a position for years before her.

Y/N was a stark difference to Penelope. All neutral colours, but with vibrant coloured hair. Piercings where Penelope had makeup. A large shaggy dog for a pet, where Penelope had a cat.

They were opposites, yet they got along like they had known each other for many years. And Penelope found herself longing to be with Y/N. More than she normally would.

Y/N always knew when a case was getting too much, and she would always lighten the mood or attempt to distract her.

“Hey Penny?” She would ask, eyes fixed on the computer in front of her but mind on the other woman. Penelope made a noise of acknowledgement, fingers working fast on the keyboard. “What do you call a man with a rubber toe?” The Blondes attention had shifted now. They were working on a case where children had been kidnapped and their parents murdered in their homes. Cases like that always got to Penelope more, and Y/N knew it. “Roberto.”

There was a beat of silence, Penelope looking at Y/N with a confused but humored expression before the other woman snorted loudly.

Penelope grew to love the sound of Y/N’s laugh more than normal. She was a people pleaser, she loved to make her friends happy and bring light into the world, but day after day, she wanted to make Y/N laugh and smile more than others. She would head straight to their office in the morning and greet her with a cup of strong, soy coffee with exactly three and a half sugars. She had Y/N’s order down pat, and fought to hide the butterflies when the other woman greeted her with a hug of thanks and a kiss on the cheek.

Her sexuality was never something that she had questioned. She had always just assumed she was straight, partially because she had never experienced attraction this deeply towards a woman. Or anybody for that fact. She spoke to Y/N any chance she could, but reminded herself that it was always good to be friendly with coworkers. She took the woman out to lunch, dinner, drinks, pet play dates. She longed to be in her presence.

It was as if her body were trying its hardest to convince her mind of what they already knew.

Penelope was falling for Y/N, and she was falling fast.

“Babygirl? Earth to Penelope? Your food’s getting cold,” the fingers of Derek Morgan clicked in her face, snapping her from her thoughts and forcing her eyes to zero in on the scene in front of her. It was a Saturday. No case. And she was in her favourite diner with Derek, Spencer and Emily. Her half eaten Waffles sat in front of her, looking up in disdain as they sunk in the puddle of syrup. “You look like you just went on a round the world trip in 10 minutes.”

If one thing could bring her joy, it would always be Derek Morgan’s smile. He was her best friend, after all.

“Pumpkin, I love you, but don’t snap your fingers at a lady,” she quipped pushing his hands down from their place in the air. “Rest easy, sugar bears, I’m back and ready to finish brunch.”

“What’s on your mind, Penny?” Emily asked. “You were spaced for so long.”

Penelope simply smiled, a warm gesture. She adored her friends, but as far as she knew none of them had ever experienced this. They were all sure of themselves, especially in their sexuality, so she knew. “I’m fine Em, just... have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. Penelope had always been open with them, for every issue she had. He exchanged a concerned look with Emily, who sat across from him in the booth.

Derek frowned, “You don’t sound fine.” He reached across the table, clasping her hand. Over time he had learnt much about Penelope, including the fact that when things bothered her, she would seek out somebody to help her. If she didn’t, then it was extremely out of character. “You can talk to us, baby. You know we’re here for you.”

Penelope turned her head, catching the smiles of Emily and Spencer. She knew she could trust them. She knew they would be there for her and accept her despite anything. They excused her criminal past, after all.

She knew she could open up, but when she opened her mouth the words couldn’t come out.

She sighed, smiling awkwardly at the three. “I- um. I have feelings for somebody. And I... don’t know what to do about it, or how I feel about having feelings for them.”

Derek made an interested sound, squeezing her hand that was still clasped in his, “Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?”

Her eyes shifted downwards, a blush rising to her face from embarrassment: she had no choice but to open up completely now. She put herself in this position, she thought, time to confide.

She cleared her throat, “Actually, it’s a woman.”

There was barely a second of silence. A quick look of confusion from Spencer as he let her words sink in, and then his former expression laid back on his face. “Okay, so who’s the lucky lady?” He asked.

Penelope needed a moment to allow for their reaction to completely take hold. They didn’t make a spectacle of it, nor did they seem offended or angry. She had expected questioning, despite her friends being the most accepting people she knew. She had been so terrified and now... they were normal.

She was stunned, to say the least. “You guys, you’re... okay with this?”

It was only then that they looked offended, and even so, it was a feigning of the expression.

They all answered her with questions, directing sentences of “why would we be offended?” and “Why would we have a problem?”

It brought a smile to her face.

“But seriously, Penny,” Emily bumped her shoulder, drawing her attention. “Who is the woman who has captured your attention away from us?”

Now she could be open with her friends. “It’s Y/N.” She murmured quietly, a shy smile on her pink stained lips and a large grin stretching across Dereks face.

“Little office romance in the batcave, is there?”

A cherry was tossed at his forehead soon after.

The conversation left Penelope giddy. Even on her way home, her heart swelled with love and her stomach was filled with anticipation for what she planned to do when she arrived home.

The minute she was in her door, her kitten heels were kicked off and she was dialing a very familiar number.

After one ring, Y/N’s sweet voice travelled through the receiver.

“Hey, Penny. How are you?”

The smile on Penelope’s face was unmatched. “I’m amazing.” They chatted for a small while, Penelope gathering her courage entirely before the words fell from her lips. “Would you like to get dinner tonight, if you’re free?”

Y/N sounded shocked at the sudden outburst that interrupted their discussion about the best reincarnation of Dr Who. “Do you mean as a date?”

“Uh, yeah, if you’re okay with that,” Penelope stammered in reply, her confidence quickly fading.

“I would love to!” Came the quick reply, sending her heart skyrocketing again. “Around 7 tonight?”

A breathe of relief left her lungs as she let the words settle in her mind. “Sounds perfect, Y/N.”

Penelope Garcia had a revelation. One that she hadn’t had opportunity to discover before in her life, and she never wanted to look back. She was far too enamored by Y/F/N.

Tag list: @starshonerose @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @mantlereid @another-lonely-heart

If you would like to be added to the tag list send me a message!!

#penelope garcia #penelope garcia x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope is a cutie #my fav show #penelope garcia x female reader

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bitch-in-a-bag · 3 years

Text

can we talk about how the LGBT movement has changed in the past 15 years?

in the light of the events surrounding Chris chan, and people prioritizing pronouns over the rape of a woman with dementia, I think it displays just how... different things are.

i personally feel like it's been co-opted by the more loud and entitled mtfs/ males/penis-havers/whatever pc term exists for the XY chromosome'd, who go too far and aren't reasonably kept in check. I think terf no longer has meaning anymore because it's just become a word we use to silence anyone that disagrees with a trans woman. immediately you're going to call me a terf, I accept that, but please continue reading. I may suprise you. calling someone who's transgender a terf is kinda messed up anyway, and that's exactly why im writing this.

I also think that everyone else (allies, ftms, etc) have followed suit because they've written this messed up narrative that EvErYoNe iS VaLiD. except for trans penis-havers, bc they're the most oppressed and the most valid, actually, regardless of their experiences.

I never used to believe the above because it was always written off as terf shit, and ignoring it kinda benefitted me, but between seeing ftms getting bashed for refusing to follow new "TME" rules as if they aren't trans too, and seeing outrage around Chris chans pronouns, I think it's time to start saying things that may make people uncomfortable. innocent people are already getting hurt by this, and we need to do better. it's time to get uncomfortable.

I want to remind you that perception is both the relying factor, and also the downfall of newer lgbt theory. if my profile were mtf coded, maybe it currently is, you'd call me a self hating trans and I wouldn't be that big of a deal. terfs would probably target me.

if my profile was ftm coded, I would be absolutely skewered for daring to speak out about these issues, even though they do actually affect ftms disproportionately. terfs would try to convince me that being trans is a plague and a mental illness, and to just ~be a cis woman~!

and if assumed cis, I would 100% be assumed radfem terf, and everything I say would immediately be dismissed because of the genuine damage terfs have done. but terfs would still probably flock to this post and berate me for daring to validate trans people At All, because to them, being transgender is a mental illness akin to an eating disorder, and "giving in" to it is "self harm". clearly I don't believe that, so hopefully you'll give me at least some benefit of the doubt.

so, does my identity matter? i have a feeling you'll say yes, because it gives us a good idea of experiences I do and don't have expertise in, and thus room to talk about. but I refuse to directly identify what I actually am because I want the focus of any resulting conversation to be my message and not my self identification. if you read between the lines and figure it out that's just fine, but I would like to be heard first and foremost.

my profile is thus an attempt at being cis female coded, somewhat out of comfort, and that is likely what I'll be assumed to be due to the beliefs I am expressing, even though there is a substantial risk of getting misgendered and dismissed, no matter what my birth sex may actually be. i will give you a hint about my identity: I am transgender, on HRT and everything, and I have been personally affected by all of this. rest assured, this is well within my lane to speak about, and it does matter if you misgender me.

I want you to really think about that. before you respond, really think about if someone saying words on tumblr, talking about their OWN experiences and their take on recent history that applies to themself, really more worthy of being misgendered and harassed than... someone who said they transitioned so they could date lesbians, and then raped their own mother with dementia.

is that fair or just? or is this just a new way of letting people with penises do whatever they want? I personally think it's the latter. we need to hold people like Chris chan accountable without getting caught up on something as minor **in comparison** as misgendering and self identification. Is it sad and confusing that someone who self IDs as transgender became 1:1 with the most dangerous stereotypes that exist for trans women? Of course it is. But it doesn't mean that self identification is suddenly more important than a literal crime being committed.

I would normally dismiss it as a fluke or outright trolling if the evidence weren't so damning that this is in fact a real event that happened. If I hadn't seen this happen to other people, and if I didn't literally know another mtf person who used their dysphoria as an excuse for date rape on multiple occasions and never got any consequences for it.

It's not a one time thing, it's a developing problem that we need to stop before more people have their lives ruined. I can't even imagine how traumatizing and messed up it is for an FTM person to be date raped, by another transgender person no less. When I, an abuse survivor, told people of this MTFs red flags, people violently silenced me. People who didn't know I was trans called me a terf and transphobic. We, as a community, could've protected someone from getting date raped, and we didn't. Trans women can be awful, horrible fucking people, because they are people. Protecting them at all costs is wrong. Protecting them from transphobia is what we should be doing.

That being said, misgendering is still skeevy, and I haven't done anything like raped a disabled woman who is no longer able to consent, or date raped my own partner. if you give a shit about respecting my identity, please use they/them for me. if not, use visual perception and make assumptions that will most likely be incorrect, skew your own argument, and put me on the same level as a rapist, and arguably a fetishist. And I do need to remind you that calling someone transgender a rapist and a fetishist without evidence is still definitely classic transphobia, to the letter, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that.

as someone who is same sex attracted, I also want to bring this up as well.

in the US in the past 15 years, the movement as a whole pretty much went "YEAH BORN THIS WAY" with Lady Gaga, and then jumped ship to prioritize mostly mtfs at every angle. do mtfs need support? absolutely. but they don't need misguided toxic positivity, and that's what it's turned into.

it's gotten genuinely homophobic to the point where actually homosexual people are constantly being erased and demonized via "genital preferences are a fetish uwu", and vulva havers, especially the trans ones, are constantly being told to shut up about their experiences.

as much as you want to deny bioessentialism, its still very much well and alive with newer trans movement sentiments when we classify ftms as not worthy of speaking about their own issues with terms like "TME". it's also incredibly ignorant towards FTMs who pass, but dress feminine for comfort, and get mistaken for MTF, and treated like garbage because of it. They are not remotely exempt from misogyny, transphobia, or the intersection of the two, and it is not anyone's job to tell them they don't ever experience that when they do. Turning ftms and biological homosexuals into our enemies-- especially when the actual cause is transphobia and harmful gender stereotypes-- does nothing good or healthy for our movement.

Dont be mistaken, though, passing isn't the focus or end all be all here, it's the perception of others that ends up drastically effecting your experiences. There are words like misogyny that imply treatment via birth sex, however this too can be reliant on external perception. If an MTF individual either transitions very young, has an abundance of resources to transition, or just gets lucky and passes well, chances are she will experience a lot more misogyny than people may give credit to. inversely, someone who just started questioning yesterday, but lived as a male their whole life up until then, they genuinely cannot speak about misogyny with that much room because they simply haven't experienced it at an accurate enough angle or for enough time to understand it as a repeated and sociological force.

It works the other way as well, though; someone who's known that they're trans for a long time and haven't had the resources to transition, or do not or cannot pass in the eyes of society; these people suffer pain that we don't neccesarily have a word for yet, imo. It makes dysphoria worse and it makes living seem hopeless. And as a community, we deal with this is in a really messed up way by over-validating them instead of solving the core issue at hand. and people who suffer from this, but also acknowledge they can't claim what they haven't experienced, are left with nowhere to go.

And its important to acknowledge these things because they're integral to the over-encompassing trans experience. Instead of lying to everyone and telling everyone they pass/giving out unconditional positive regard, our focus should be making it so that it **doesn't matter if you pass**. that you're still worth respect and dignity if you're transgender, no matter what passing is or what it means to you, and no matter how you present. But also, if you do something awful, you still need to be held accountable, especially if you use yourself, your body, or your trans status to contribute to other axi of oppression.

Transphobia is a word that encompasses and addresses all of that, regardless of birth sex. "TME" shuts that down in favor of only letting MTF's speak. Which is still very bio-essentialist, and I can't help but feel like we've gone full circle.

Once upon a time you couldn't even get married if your partner had the same genitals as you. in the US, this was less than 7 years ago. and if you care about human rights activism, you know damn well that legal modification is not the end all be all. people who are genuinely homosexual are still oppressed, but the trans movement has started stepping on them to make ground we don't deserve. homosexuals are ok and valid. it's not a genital preference, and the prescence of trans people doesn't make conversion therapy sentiments ok, ever.

we've gone full circle, and it's not right.

#trans rights #homosexuality #human rights #lgbt #lgbt community #trans #tw: rape #transphobia

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loveislattes · 4 years

Text

Patience Is Key (Darkiplier/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2 (End)

Commission prompt: Reader only knows that sex is pain, so Dark shows her otherwise…?

Mentions past abusive relationship but doesn’t go into any detail!

Content: Smut, smut, smut, smut! Some demon tentacle/tendril play, dom/sub themes, biting, and mentions of praise!

A/N: I hope it was worth the wait, guys! Love you all! Also! I was listening to Two Feet- Momentum EP on repeat while writing the smut. If you haven’t heard it, I would DEFINITELY encourage you to! Its sultry and enticing and just lovely.

@heapass0

@underthedark13

@moriimae

@oi-fischfuck

@beck384

@book-of-roses

@therealcap

It was a strange arrangement, living with a literal demon, but it wasn’t bad. Knowing there was a badass immeasurable force protecting the house kept my anxiety to a bare minimum. Not to mention, for his talk of being around more, we weren’t usually in the house at the same time. Oftentimes the only way I’d know he’d even been in the building was the fact my closet door was open. On the rare occasion that we were actually home together, it was just like being with any other roommate. Sometimes he’d stay in what was now designated as his bedroom and other times he’d read beside me on the couch while I watched movies.

No matter where he was or what he was doing, he was quiet; which was a pity because he had such a beautiful voice but it was also probably for the best considering how much I’d come to enjoy it. Hell, I just enjoyed being in his presence in general. Serene though he was, he was good company. He was always such a good listener and found ways to keep my talking about myself which usually was a topic I avoided. He made me feel comfortable, important, despite the fact he was leagues above me in the order of the world.

I let out a little sigh and rolled onto my back, letting my tablet fall to the bed beside me in favor of wrapping up my stomach. Anytime I thought about him I got those annoying little butterflies in my gut. Why did he have to be so damn attractive? Not just physically, either, although I’d be the first to admit his looks alone could bring me to my knees. Our personalities meshed so well together. I’d never met another person- being- who actually enjoyed sitting in another’s company in silence. Everyone always felt the need to be doing something, but I preferred just being side by side with our own activities. Mixed with that fact he was undeniably genius-level smart and courteous in a way most human men weren’t- I didn’t stand a chance.

“What a perfect asshole,” I huffed quietly.

It was late and I knew I had to try to get some sleep before work tomorrow. Unfortunately, that would mean I’d have to stop daydreaming and actually sleep but once I started thinking about Dark, it was almost impossible to stop. Work was already a hellish land without exhaustion so it was with much grumbling and sighing that I rolled over onto my side and forced my mind quiet.

Think of something calming. Rain; Watching a storm through the bedroom window at night. Listening to the raindrops and staring out at the dark sky. Dark… Would he be the kind of person who enjoyed watching storms too? Or even stargaze? Damn, how amazing would it feel to cuddle up to him on the roof and stare up at the sky? - Fuck, no! Stop it brain.

Despite burrowing under the covers and wrapping up like a human burrito, I just couldn’t get my mind to shut up. My body was nearly humming with thoughts of him. After half an hour of tossing and turning, I gave in to my baser instincts. It was the one thing I knew would knock me out easily. Throwing my blankets aside, I snagged my trusty toy from the bedside table and switched it on.

The instant I felt the vibrations on my clit my body nearly melted in place.

“Fuuuuck, yeah. This was a good idea,” I mumbled weakly.

Legs falling aside, I let the vibrator go to work in all the right places. The stress of the day, of my crush on my demonic roommate, slowly ebbed away to be taken over by that familiar pleasure. Unbidden fantasies of Dark slowly danced their way into my thoughts and an overwhelming shudder wracked my form; How he’d look over me, how his fangs would feel against my skin, how his voice would echo in the throes of passion.

“Oh Dark! Shit!”

Mewls of his name filtered out over and over as I quickly neared the edge of bliss. It was so close I could practically taste it, the tendrils teasing up my calves in anticipation. A dreamy giggle escaped my lips as I felt an unexpected tickle behind my knees. It wasn’t until what I thought were the imaginary tingles of my impending orgasm solidified into a bruising hold that I realized it wasn’t just my mind.

“Wha-!!”

Before I could even protest, I was jerked towards the edge of the bed with a force almost inhuman.

“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account. I just wanted a… better view.”

That voice. Mortification rolled like bile up my gut as I jerked upright. It was with burning cheeks that I jerked my blanket over my lap, earning a chuckle from the intruder.

Dark smirked from his spot against the closet door, looking way too casual for someone who’d just caught me moaning their name.

“You know I could just remove that if I really wished to,” he hummed lowly.

I was trying to find some snappy retort when suddenly I felt the thing holding my right leg let go and push up the blanket before dropping it once again symbolically.

“Wait, these- that’s you?” I whispered in disbelief.

Without a second thought, I jerked the blanket away and stared in awe at the smokey black vines wrapped around my legs. I tried to follow them to the source but they ended up blending it with the darkness of the floor halfway to Dark.

“Yes, they are a part of me,” he finally replied.

I knew I most likely resembled a fish out of the water with how I gaped at him but it was taking my brain a little while to catch up. While I knew he had powers beyond my comprehension, I hadn’t even imagined something like this.

“O-Oh,” I whispered.

His amused chuckle brought my attention back up to him, only now he was much closer and I was reminded of just how obscenely I had been saying his name minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

He put up a hand and I went silent immediately, unsure of how this was going to play out. Those damned butterflies were going crazy in my belly again under the weight of his stare and I couldn’t resist the need to look away, finding a particularly interesting bit of carpet to the right instead.

“You were calling for me. I was concerned that your former lover was back causing trouble, but imagine my delight at walking in on such a beautiful sight,” he sighed, head tilting with a little grin, “I also couldn’t help but notice that I seemed to be the cause of your desires.”

A small part of my pride still felt disgruntled by the shock but overall I was stunned by his admission. He liked that he walked in on that? He called it beautiful… Oh fuck. Swallowing thickly, I tilted my head back and met his gaze nervously. There was a flash of fang as his grin widened into a sly smirk and I instantly felt my pussy throb in need; To have those teeth around my throat, in my skin, god what I’d do.

“You seem to be having some trouble there, darling. Would you be oh so kind and allow me to help you?” he purred, a low growl rumbling in his chest when he stepped closer.

I couldn’t manage a verbal response so instead, I nodded, probably a little too emphatically if his snicker was telling. Any embarrassment I felt evaporated the moment his hand cupped my jaw. I was so keyed up and touch starved that just that action caused my thighs to clench shut. His skin was cool against mine but not uncomfortably so. There was a small bit of callus on his thumb as it rubbed across my face and the texture sent shivers down my spine.

Suddenly his other hand came up and quickly tangled in my locks, jerking my head back as his other hand slid around my throat.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, “Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?”

Gulping, I nodded and managed to whisper, “I trust you. I know you won’t be like him.”

I didn’t even need to say the name. There had been an awkward discussion a few weeks back about what had actually gone down between my ex and I, without all the intimate details of course. The implication of what my ex had done now hung heavy in the air between us, thick and harsh, and I worried for a moment that I’d ruined the mood. His sharp sigh was the only warning I got before suddenly his mouth was on mine. I wasn’t even given time to respond before he pulled away just as quickly.

“This will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced, darling. I am nothing like anyone you’ve ever known. There are things about me that no human could compare to.”

As if offering an example, the tendril around my thigh slowly moved its way further up my thigh until it was mere centimeters from my aching core. It made my heart race but more than anything I just wanted him to continue.

“Even so, there will never be a moment that your consent will be in question, do you understand that? Sex is meant to be enjoyable for everyone involved. Even a demon like me lives by that principle,” he explained, “As such, I’ve grown rather fond of having you around these past few months and I’d rather not scare you off now. So if there is something I do that you’re not comfortable with, you will tell me.”

“Y-Yes,” I agreed softly.

There was that domineering attitude again. Not that I minded in any sense. It just added another layer to the safety I felt around him. Hell, I wanted him to be in control. It made things so much easier when I didn’t have to second guess if I was doing the right thing or if I was going to regret it.

“Now, lay back and continue while I get undressed,” he demanded huskily.

A little niggle of anxiety wormed its way through the comfortable haze around my mind when he pulled back and stared me down, but I shoved it away with a calming breath. I could do this. After steeling my nerves, I reached up and pulled off my nightshirt, tossing it to the floor and leaving my body completely bare- save for the teasing tendrils still wrapped around my legs like a wicked kind of ribbon.

Thankfully he started moving in suit, making me feel more at ease and less scrutinized. With a pillow propped under my head, I snagged the vibrator again and started it back up. It felt strange to indulge myself with the man of my desires mere feet away but there was also a strange sort of thrill to it. There was also the undeniable boost of confidence, the fact that a powerful demon wanted to see me; hell, that he wanted me at all!

I was slowly getting back into the rhythm when I became distracted by the sound of cloth dropping. When I looked back up, he was completely shirtless, suit jacket, shirt, and tie across the room on my dresser. He was already working on his slacks when our eyes met. Nervously my gaze dropped back down only to get enraptured by the sight of his pants opening. God, he had nice hands; big, veiny, strong.

With a shake of my head, I cleared my thoughts and solely focused on the vision before me. He took his time, inching his slacks down teasingly until his cock bobbed free. With a snap of his fingers, his pants were suddenly across the room with the rest of his clothes.

“Keep going,” he demanded.

I realized, with much chagrin, that I had completely stopped using the vibrator in lieu of watching him. I managed a soft apology before bringing the toy back to my clit. My eyes shut instinctively under the waves of pleasure that buzzed through my limbs, only to open once more in shock as I felt the smoky appendages on my thighs moving once more.

They moved slowly as if giving me time to rebuke their advances but eventually joined my hand between my thighs. They were neither warm nor cold, just about the same temperature as my body as they gently prodded between my lips.

My eyes sought out Dark once more only to be graced by the most stunning sight, the statuesque demon shamelessly stroking his cock slowly.

“O-Oh fuck!”

He smirked but didn’t say a word in reply, instead letting a little grunt fall from his lips.

Oh and how delicious it sounded. I couldn’t help the little whimper than escaped in return as the tendrils thrust in. It was both strange and enthralling, having something that should not exist touching me in such a private way. They moved much more dexterously than fingers, quick and flexible that more mimicked a tongue. It didn’t take long for him to find that erogenous patch of nerves deep in my core and set on a full assault.

“D-Dark, please!” I gasped needily.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered stiffly, slowly making his way toward the edge of the bed.

He was devastatingly gorgeous. Just the sight of his toned, naked body nearly sent me over. My fingers trembled in their hold of the vibrator when I finally caught sight of his bare cock, hard, thick, and standing centered perfectly between that drool-worthy adonis belt. As if sensing my faltering, he sped up the thrusts with a smirk.

“Fuck me!”

There was that arrogant chuckle again, “If you insist.”

The bed dipped by my feet and instinctively I threw the vibrator across the bed, spreading my legs as I heard the telltale thunk of the plastic hitting the floor. Cool hands ran up my calves and around my thighs before resting on my waist as he came to rest in place over me. I couldn’t hold back a whimper as I felt warm drops of his precum pool on my belly as he leaned in and kissed me hard. The sensation of his velvety smooth head rubbing against my stomach did awful things to the desire eating me up inside.

Thankfully he appeared to be affected just as much because it wasn’t long before he reached between us to situate his tip between my lips. Oh so devastatingly slowly he worked his way in, every inch better than the last.

“Ahhhha, god damn,” I gasped, fingers clutching at his solid forearms in search of stability.

It had been so long. So fucking long. Not to mention, the size difference between him and any other man I’d slept with was astronomical. Part of me basked in the care he was taking not to injure me, but the other part of me just wanted him to get it over with and fuck me into oblivion, no matter the consequences. Not that I could get the words out to ask for it; Struck dumb and useless by the overwhelming satisfaction wreaking havoc with my senses. After what seemed like forever, his hips finally came flush to mine and I was finally able to force my eyes open.

“Hello, darling,” Dark purred.

Goosebumps prickled every inch of my skin and my stomach flipped in shock at the depth his voice reached, the echoes mimicked by an ethereal blue and red glow pulsing around him. It only served to remind me that there was so much about him- and his kind- that I knew nothing about. How much power and ability he had hidden in the most beautiful body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I gasped without much thought.

There was a twinge of confusion across his face for only a moment before he leaned back in and stole a brutal kiss. My lips ached under the pressure but I didn’t dare complain as his taste infiltrated my senses. Just as I was starting to run out of air, he pulled away and let out a huff of a laugh.

“You are, by far, the most curious and provocative human I’ve ever met,” he muttered.

In the next movement, quicker than I could fully comprehend, he had my legs jerked upon his shoulders and his hands on my hips. It was debilitating, the sudden change in position, and how perfectly full it left me. I wasn’t given long to marvel over it before his nails were biting into my skin, holding me still when his hips began slamming into mine. Hard. Demanding. Dominating. Every thrust burned his control into my mind like a branding.

It was almost too much of a good thing, so much raw energy, and emotion bouncing around like lightening in my veins. I couldn’t- wouldn’t- stop it though. My skin felt on fire and my cunt abused, and yet I had never felt anything so paradisiacal.

“Open your eyes. Let me see you,” Dark snapped suddenly.

The sight above me was one I’d give anything to see again and again for the rest of my life: his monochrome skin bathed in those celestial lights, the flex of his trim muscles with each thrust, the peek of fangs with every grunt and groan he unleashed. I felt a wave of indescribable emotion twitch in my heart when our eyes locked, and had to look away instantly.

“No, no, darling,” he grunted huskily, “Don’t shy away. The expression in your eyes is absolutely delicious. I want to see you, need you to see me, when I make you come.”

God, the way his voice reverberated in my head made everything else slip away. It was so easy to just listen to him. Meeting his gaze once more, I was blessed with the sight of pure adoration.

“There we go. Good girl.”

A zing of pleasure shot down my spine at the little admission of praise and tore a whimper from my lips.

“Now, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

He paused until I finally realized he wanted some sort of response.

“Y-Yes, fuck, of course. A-a-anything,” I moaned, ankles framing his neck as he gave a rough thrust of his hips.

Another smirk graced his lips when he said, “Come for me. Let me hear you say my name again so sweetly.”

Cheeks flushing, I managed a half-assed nod before my world went into chaos with a brush of my clit. It took a good few moments before I realized it had to be one of his shadows since both of his hands were bruising on my hips. That realization mixed with every little movement culminated into the start of an earth-shattering end. It was so hard to keep my eyes open under the building waves assaulting my core. I needed to though. If not for his satisfaction, then to see the way his face contorted in bliss. It was captivating and there was a sense of contentment that came with knowing he was feeling even a modicum of the pleasure he caused.

The brush of the tendril solidified into a movement almost tongue like at the same time that his hands moved from my hips. I nearly whined at the loss of his hold only to be placated by his grip resurfacing under my knees. Without warning, he suddenly sent my legs back towards me, holding them spread as he leaned over me and took up a brutal pace. It wasn’t but moments later that everything snapped.

I couldn’t hold back the scream that tore up my throat as my world shattered. Shocks of whites danced behind my lids with every pulse of bliss that rang through my core, radiating from my head to my toes behind every thrust of his hips. In a moment of weakness, I blindly reached for and snagged his hair, jerking on the silky locks needily.

“Pl- Fuck, god, Dark, please, wanna feel you bite me!”

His response was in a language that was both terrifying and beautiful, resonating in my chest heavily until he finally dropped my legs and leaned down over me. His scent was overwhelming as he surrounded me in nearly every sense. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in his neck and breathe it in but I was quickly reminded of my more pressing desires the moment his lips brushed my neck.

“I need to know where you’d like me to come first, darling. Wherever you want,” he moaned, voice catching near the end.

The rumble of his voice sent my thoughts scattering once more with another wave of pleasure washing through my body, but I managed to focus enough to stammer out, “I-In me. I’m on the sh-sh- fuck!”

My words were cut off by blinding pain. It almost felt as if his teeth broke the skin, a throbbing burn emanating from the bite, but it was quickly encompassed by bliss. I felt my eyes rolling back as his husky moan reverberated against my throat and he buried his cock deep in my core with a final thrust. The aftershocks of his cock throbbing had me quivering weakly but I fought through the mind-numbing bliss and fulfilled the last of my thirst, brushing my nose against his cheek and soaking in the scent of his woodsy cologne and natural musk.

Laying under him, though uncomfortably hot, was the best feeling; The sensation of his strong body mimicking the comfort of a weighted blanket.

“That was… Dark, I don’t even have words,” I whispered finally.

With careful movements, he slowly pulled back until our eyes could comfortably meet and I realized belatedly that I still had a steely grip on his hair, releasing it with a nervous giggle.

“No regrets, then?” he asked, obviously amused.

I shook my head as I bit my lower lip before offering him a little smile.

“The only regret would be if it was a one-time thing,” I admitted softly.

His eyebrow twitched up and said, “Not at all, darling. I’ve been patient for so long, waiting for the right moment to claim you. The only thing that could keep me from you is you yourself.”

#Patience is key #darkiplier/reader #chapter two #smut #biting #dom/sub #kind of tentacles but not really #demon dark

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grubbyduck · 4 years

Text

No Man’s Land - an essay on feminism and forgiveness

I have always proudly named myself a feminist, since I was a little girl and heard my mum proudly announcing herself as a feminist to anyone who would listen.

But I believe the word 'feminist' takes on a false identity in our collective imagination - it is seen as hard, as baked, severe, steadfast, stubborn and rooted. From a male perspective, it possibly means abrasive, or too loud, or intimidatingly intolerant of men. From a female perspective, though, these traits become revered by young feminists; the power of knowing what you think and never rolling over! My experience of being a feminist throughout my life has been anything but - it has been a strange and nebulous aspect of my identity; it has sparked the familiar fires of bravery, ambition, rage, sadness and choking inarticulacy at times, sure, but at other times it has inspired apathy, reactionary attitudes, bravado and dismissivness. And at other, transitive times, it caused me to rethink my entire outlook on the world. And then again. And then again.

In primary school, I read and re-read Sandi Toksvig’s book GIRLS ARE BEST, which takes the reader through the forgotten women of history. I didn’t feel angry - I felt awed that there were female pirates, women on the front line in the world wars, women at the forefront of invention, science and literature. I still remember one line, where it is revealed that NASA’s excuse for only hiring six women astronauts compared to hundreds of men was that they didn’t stock suits small enough.

When I was 13, I tried to start a girl's rugby team at my school. I got together 15 girls who also wanted to form a team. We asked the coaches if they would coach us - their responses varied from 'maybes' to straight up 'no's. The boys in our year laughed at us publicly. We would find an old ball, look up the rules online, and practise ourselves in free periods - but the boys would always come over, make fun of us and take over the game until we all felt too insecure to carry on. I shouted at a lot of boys during that time, and got a reputation among them as someone who was habitually angry and a bit of a buzzkill. Couldn't take a joke - that kind of thing.

When I was around 16, I got my first boyfriend. He was two years older (in his last year of sixth form) and seemed ever so clever to me. He laughed about angry feminists, and I laughed too. He knew I classified myself as a feminist, but, you know, a cool one - who doesn't get annoyed, and doesn't correct their boyfriends' bulging intellects. And in any case, whenever I did argue with him about anything political or philosophical, he would just chant books at me, list off articles he'd read, mention Kant and say 'they teach that wrong at GCSE level'. So I put more effort into researching my opinions (My opinions being things like - Trump is a terrible person who should not be elected as President - oh yeah, it was 2016), but every time I cited an article, he would tell me why that article was wrong or unreliable. I couldn't win. He was a Trump supporter (semi-ironically, but that made it even worse somehow) and he voted Leave in the Brexit referendum. He also wouldn't let me get an IUD even though I had terrible anxiety about getting pregnant, because of his parents' Catholicism. He sulked if he ever got aroused and then I didn’t feel like having sex, because apparently it ‘hurts’ men physically. One time I refused sex and he sulked the whole way through the night, refusing to sleep. I was incensed, and felt sure that my moral and political instincts were right, but I had been slowly worn down into doubting the validity of my own opinions, and into cushioning his ego at every turn - especially when he wasn't accepted into Oxford.

When I was 17/18, I broke up with him, and got on with my A Levels. One of them was English Literature. I remember having essay questions drilled into us, all of which were fairly standard and uninspired, but there was one that I habitually avoided:

'Discuss the presentation of women in this extract'

It irritated me beyond belief to hear the way that our class were parroting phrases like 'commodification and dehumanisation of women' in order to get a good grade. It felt so phony, so oversimplified, and frankly quite insulting. I couldn't bear reading classic books with the intent of finding every instance that the author compares a woman to an animal. It made me so sad! I couldn't understand how the others could happily write about such things and be pleased with their A*. As a keen contributor to lessons, my teacher would often call on me to comment in class - and to her surprise, I think, my responses about 'women's issues' were always sullen and could be characterised by a shrug. I wanted to talk about macro psychology, about Machievellian villains, about Shakespreare's subversion of comic convention in the English Renaissance. I absolutely did not want to talk about womb imagery, about men’s fixation and sexualisation of their mothers or about docile wives. In my application for Cambridge, I wrote about landscape and the psyche in pastoral literature, and got an offer to study English there. I applied to a mixed college - me and my friends agreed that we’d rather not go if we got put into an all female college.

When I was 19, I got a job as an actor in a touring show in my year out before starting at Cambridge. I was the youngest by a few years. One company member - a tall, handsome and very talented man in his mid-twenties - had the exact same job title as me, only he was being paid £100 more than me PER WEEK. I was the only company member who didn’t have an agent, so I called the producers myself to complain. They told me they sympathised, that there just wasn’t enough money in the budget to pay me more - and in the end, I managed to negotiate myself an extra £75 per week by taking on the job of sewing up/fixing any broken costumes and puppets. So I had more work, and was still being paid 25% less. The man in question was a feminist, and complained to his agent (although he fell through on his promise to demand that he lose £50 a week and divide it evenly between us). He was a feminist - and yet he commented on how me and the other woman in the company dressed, and told us what to wear. He was a feminist, only he slept with both of us on tour, and lied to us both about it. He was a feminist, only he pitted me against and isolated me from the only other woman in the company, the only person who may have been a mentor or a confidante. He was a feminist, only he put me down daily about my skills as a performer and made me doubt my intelligence, my talent and my worth.

When I was 20, I started at Cambridge University, studying English Literature. Over the summer, I read Lundy Bancroft’s book ‘Why Does He Do That’ which is a study of abusers and ‘angry and controlling men’. It made me realise that I had not been given the tools to recognise coercive and controlling behaviour - I finally stopped blaming myself for attracting controlling men into my life. I also read ‘Equal’ by Carrie Gracie, about her fight to secure equal pay for equal work at the BBC in 2017-2019. It was reading that book that I fully appreciated that I had already experienced illegal pay discrimination in the workplace. Both made me cry in places, and it felt as though something had thawed in me. I realised that I was not the exception. That ‘women’s issues’ do apply to me. In my first term at Cambridge, I wrote some unorthodox essays. I wrote one on Virginia Woolf named ‘The Dogs Are Dancing’ which began with a page long ‘disclaimer for my womanly emotions’ that attempted to explain to my male supervisor how difficult it is for women to write dispassionately and objectively, as they start to see themselves as unfairly separate, excluded and outlined from the male literary consciousness. He didn’t really understand it, though he enjoyed the passion behind my prose.

The ‘woman questions’ at undergraduate level suddenly didn’t seem as easy, as boring or as depressing as those I had encountered at A Level. I had to reconcile with the fact that I had only been exposed to a whitewashed version of feminism throughout my life. At University, I learned the word Intersectionality - and it made immediate and ferocious sense to me. I wrote an essay on Aphra Behn’s novella ‘Oroonoko’, which is about a Black prince and his pursuit of Imoinda, a Black princess. I had to get to grips with how a feminist author from the Renaissance period tackled issues of race. I had to examine how she dehumanised and sexualised Imionda in the same way that white women were used to being treated by men. I had to really question to what extent Aphra Behn was on Imionda’s side - examine the violent punishment of Oroonoko for mistreating her. I found myself really wanting to believe that Behn had done this purposefully as social commentary. I mentioned in my essay that I was aware of my own white female critical ingenuity. For the first time, I was writing about something I didn’t have any personal authority over in my life - I had to educate myself meticulously in order to speak boldly about race.

As I found myself surrounded by more women who were actively and unashamedly feminist, I realised just how many opinions exist within that bracket. I realised that I didn’t agree with a lot of other feminists about aspects of the movement. I started to only turn up to lectures by women. I started to only read literary criticism written by women - not even consciously; I just realised that I trusted their voices more intrinsically. I started to wish I had applied to an all female college. I realised that all female spaces weren’t uncool - that is an image that I had learned from men, and from trying to impress men. The idea that Black people, trans people, that non binary people could be excluded from feminism seemed completely absurd to me. I ended up in a mindset that was constructed to instinctively mistrust men. Not hate - just mistrust. I started to get fatigued by explaining basic feminist principles to sceptical men.

I watched the TV show Mrs America. It made my heart speed up with longing, with awe, with nerves, sorrow, anger - again, it showed me how diverse the word Feminism is. The longing I felt was for a time where feminist issues seemed by comparison clear-cut, and unifying. A time where it was good to be angry, where anger got stuff done. I am definitely angry. The problem is, the times that feminism has benefitted me and others the most in my life is when I use it forgivingly and patiently. When I sit in my anger, meditate on it, control it, and talk to those I don’t agree with on subjects relating to feminism with the active intent to understand their point of view. Listening to opinions that seemed so clearly wrong to me was the most difficult thing in the world - but it changed my life, and once again, it changed my definition of feminism.

Feminism is listening to Black women berating white feminists, and rather than feeling defensive or exempt, asking questions about how I have contributed to a movement that excludes women of colour. Feminism is listening to my mother’s anxieties about trans women being included in all-female spaces, and asking her where those anxieties stem from. Feminism is understanding that listening to others who disagree with you doesn’t endanger your principles - you can walk away from that conversation and know what you know. Feminism is checking yourself when you undermine or universalise male emotion surrounding the subject. Feminism is allowing your mind to change, to evolve, to include those that you once didn’t consider - it is celebrating quotas, remembering important women, giving thanks for the fact that feminism is so complex, so diverse, so fraught and fought over.

Feminism is common ground. It is no man’s land. It is the space between a Christian housewife and a liberated single trans woman. It is understanding women of other races, other cultures, other religions. It is disabled women, it is autistic women, it is trans men who have biologically female medical needs that are being ignored. It is forgiveness for our selfishness. It feels impossible.

The road to feminism is the road to enlightenment. It is the road to Intersectional equity. It is hard. It is a journey. No one does it perfectly. It is like the female orgasm - culturally ignored, not seen as necessary, a mystery even to a lot of women, many-layered, multitudinous, taboo, comes in waves. It is pleasure, and it is disappointment.

All I know is that the hard-faced, warrior version of feminism that was my understanding only a few years ago reduced my allies and comrades in arms to a small group of people who were almost exaclty like me and so agreed with me on almost everything. Flexible, forgiving and inquisitive feminism has resulted in me loving all women, and fighting for all women consciously. And by fighting for all women, I also must fight for Black civil rights, for disabled rights, for Trans rights, for immigrant rights, for homeless rights, for gay rights, and for all human rights because women intersect every one of these minorities. My scoffing, know-it-all self doing my A Levels could never have felt this kind of love. My ironic jokes about feminists with my first boyfriend could never have made any woman feel loved. My frustration that my SPECIFIC experience of misogyny as a white, middle-class bisexual woman didn’t feel related to the other million female experiences could never have facilitated unity, common ground, or learning to understand women that existed completely out of my experience as a woman.

My feminism has lead me to becoming friends with some of those boys who mocked me for wanting to play rugby, and with the woman that was vying with me over that man in the acting company for 8 months. It is slowly melting my resentment towards all men - it is even allowing me to feel sorry for the men who have mistreated me in the past.

I guess I want to express in this mammoth essay post that so far my feminist journey has lead me to the realisation that if your feminism isn’t growing you, you aren’t doing it right. Perhaps it will morph again in the future. But for now, Feminism is a love of humanity, rather than a hatred of it. That is all.

#Feminism #yooo i have written a thesis lol #didn’t mean to do that it all kind of flowed out #intersectional feminism #forgiveness #carrie gracie #mrs america #why does he do that #lundy bancroft #equal pay #equal rights #literature #university #school #oroonoko #aphra behn

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

emerald dreams: REDACTED | kth

⇢ pairing: taehyung x reader

⇢ genre: series, blackmirror!au, angst, fluff, artist!taehyung, strangers to lovers, set sometime in a dystopian era of technology, taehyung is s o f t

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, memory loss, mentions of death, themes of grief/depression

⇢ summary: in a technologically advanced utopia where a memory can be stored as a data file in a chip inserted in your head, it was entirely impossible to forget anything. when you met taehyung, a young at heart yet talented artist, he garnished an odd familiarity, raising suspicion that some of your memories had been lost in the digital cloud, or worse, erased from your memory chip.

♪ playlist: IDK you yet - alexander 23 • 4 o' clock - v & rm • jamais vu - bts • the story - brandi carlile • moonlight - ariana grande ♪

╰ episode index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: if you don't watch black mirror then just imagine that everything is technology based, even the inner mechanisms of your thoughts/mind/memories and social culture has centered around the automation of the human body. also the government is sleazy and controls literally everyone in this au >:) also, i'm going to try and update this weekly!!

Scenario No. 2: Re-test

You didn’t expect to be spending your weekly visit at your favorite coffee shop gasping for air in the single occupancy commode. An unsettling familiarity had reached into your chest and compromised the body of your lungs, now savagely hyperventilating for air, and seized control on the reins of every sensory neuron in your body.

First, it was the sensation of sound. That voice, that unusually specific coffee order, the soft lilt of politeness riding through his etiquettes of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ struck right in your chest with a shockwave of deja vu, like you’ve heard that order before, a million times before perhaps. No part of you would let go of the fact that for some reason, this stranger was someone you knew very well.

And yet you had no idea who he was.

“Hi, how are you?” He smiled to ease the nerves of the overworked barista on this Sunday afternoon. Your ears picked up his husky, sweet tone through the scuttle of customers walking in and out of the shop and a commotion of side conversations that filled the room. It was quite noisy, enough so that it muffled any specific utterances, but the bass of his voice had met your ears with a strong posture of familiarity.

You looked over to the sweater draped over his frame that fit snugly against his broad shoulders. That was when your visual senses were overrun with the muted forest green of the knitted jumper. You’ve seen this color green. To be fair, green was always secured in your life abundantly through your own will. You had always loved this color and demonstrated this through small displays such as picking the green straw from a bundle of multicolored ones, or scanning over a set of shirts to find which one had the most green in it.

You surrounded yourself with a life full of green, but when this green sweater was paired with the voice there was a strange jolt of reminiscence.

It was not just a sweater, it was a sweater that you have touched, even worn before. And when he wore it, it wasn’t just any green. It was his green.

His figure drew closer to you as he waited at the side bar for his drink to be called, sending a waft of his scent to nullify those of fresh brewed coffee and pastries. Along with your eyes and ears, your nose now fell to the magnetism of this stranger.

He smelled of fresh evergreen with a bit of pinewood, mixing into an overwhelming oaky aroma. As the smells that resembled a tranquil forest ruminated through your lungs and your bloodstream, it weakened your body to a state of paralysis. Your motor skills were numbed to endow a series of mental backflips to figure out where this estranged attraction was coming from, and why it was him who provoked it.

Standing comatose in the middle of a populated coffee shop meant the clash of your body into another's was bound to occur. And of course, it was his body that bumped you out of the trance of obscured memories. It was his arms that held your shoulders steady so you wouldn’t topple over and spill your latte over yourself.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there. Are-” His eyes studied your aghast expression, “Hey, are you okay?”

This marked the compromise of your visual sensory. You looked right into his eyes, kind and concerned, and your surroundings had melted away into a whirl of unidentifiable colors. Your body was transported to a purgatory that rested between reality and a dream-like setting, which eventually molded itself into actuality before your eyes.

Redacted File No. 6

Suddenly you turned your head side to side and the territory that was once a café was no more, and had alchemized into a zone of unparalleled comfort. To your left, you were warmed by a wood-burning fireplace with stones crested along the frame of the pit. Your body was covered in a blurred canvas of forest green, and there were two hands holding your body gently and lovingly. It was a vision so incredibly clear and intricate it couldn’t be conjured through imagination or illusion, but a very real and vivid memory.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry… You’re okay right?” His jostling hands fainted the memory that swept you from the cafe. You blinked a few times before your eyes could refocus and land you to your present circumstances.

The man’s firm grip hadn’t abandoned your shoulders even though you regrounded your balance, which quickened the pace of your heart. They you earnestly, that even though you were certainly not going to fall over, he wouldn’t have let go. Without more than an array of unintelligible stutters to confirm you were okay, because you weren’t okay, you hobbled backward quite ungracefully to the privacy of the bathroom. After your rushed retreat, you tried to analyze the string of memories that pervaded your mind.

How do you know this man? Were these your memories? Or perhaps your memory chip glitched and downloaded files that didn’t belong to you?

The blunder of confusion racked your head with a slight tension headache. What was once a temporary occupancy of the restroom turned into a marathoned hideout until you could safely assume the stranger’s drink was made and he would leave the vicinity.

You checked your phone to count the duration of time spent. It had been about ten minutes since you pathetically holed yourself up, and it would be about five more minutes until you felt you could confidently emerge and escape.

You knew him, and for some reason it sent you into a fearful sequester.

Luckily, just last week you downloaded an upgraded storage plan which gave you access to all your past memories.

You activated the chip residing in your temple to trace every single unit in the archives, even the ones from as early as your birth, to see if anyone, including the likes of a passing stranger, a waiter that took your order three weeks ago, even a student from your high school class, resembled the man in the café. There were no records in your memory files of someone who echoed the same unsettling familiarity that this man had.

If the advanced technology that contained each capsule of every moment in time that you have ever experienced couldn’t give you the data on this man, then perhaps it was just an unusual coincidence.

One of those Twilight Zone-esque occurrences that isn’t deployed through factual evidence. Though you weren't entirely met with closure for this reasoning, it was enough to cope through the rest of your lengthened stay in the restroom.

What battered your precisely timed and nearly successful plan to avoid further interactions with this man was the light knock against the door. And it was the feeling of guilt that there must be other customers who planned on using the bathroom for its intended purpose that hoisted you up and had you reluctantly vacating the protected area.

Though, it was punishingly ironic that the one who had torn you from your sanctuary was the same person who put you there in the first place.

“Sorry,” He apologized about three times within the small window of time he’d been confronted by you and you already caught on to his habit of perpetual remorse, “Um, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I bumped into you and you kinda… freaked then ran and hid in the bathroom.”

If he weren’t so considerate to a stranger that was acting oddly evasive, this would have been easy. But he was considerate, and this was unbelievably difficult.

“Yeah um,” Your eyes sank down to rest on the comforting hue of his sweater, “I’m, uh, I'm okay. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, dislodging the nervous laugh blocking his words.

“Okay well, I was just wondering if you were all good. You seemed a little shaken up back there.” Frankly, he still sensed something about him was off-putting to you, but he tried to deny it for the moment.

Your assurances fell gravely short of convincing since you couldn’t even bring your eyes to level with his. The soft-spoken gesture of kindness made you feel like a helpless animal that would surrender at the slightest sign of danger. It was a fair assessment for you acted as though his accidental collision into you through a crowded space was the end of the world.

“Yeah, sorry. Thank you!” You chirped to imitate a normal reaction despite this tremendously abnormal situation. “I was just um… It's just one of those days, ya know?”

Then, it was his smile that cluttered your sensation of touch. He was standing a respectable distance from you, however, his smile touched you. It cornered you into blurting out something even more peculiar than the overwhelming deja vu that had been commencing the moment you noticed him.

“Do I-” You paused to lower your voice that could have outsourced to the collection of ruckus in the café. Now in a whisper, you continued, “Do I know you?”

He didn’t offer a voiced response, but an equally bewildered expression. You couldn't quite read what this implied so you assumed he thought you were crazy, maybe even a bit creepy.

“Sorry! Fuck, that’s so creepy. I’m just gonna go.” Before you had the chance to push past him and the billowing clouds of regret, he obstructed your path to the doorway with his body.

“No! I think I know you too. Like, I’ve never seen you but I remember you. Like… Like a dream.” He scaled the length of your body with his eyes, which only manufactured his intuition into an undoubtable certainty. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“Hell if I know. I’m just as confused as you.” You felt your body slumping into itself under his gaze. He was attentive to every detail of you, from the length of your hair to the twitch of your fingertips, making you feel over exposed to this stranger that wasn’t a stranger.

“Well, do you wanna maybe sit? Have a coffee with me?” He propagated his interest like there was no reason to be afraid which only intimidated you further. There wasn’t a real threat in his invitation, however accepting it felt like you were walking on thin ice.

The government agent standing guard with a perfect earshot of every conversation wiring through the small café didn’t help ease your nerves either.

“I really should be heading home soon.” Guilt worked quickly to try and compensate for the discouraged expression on his face, “But… if you give me your number I’ll call you and maybe we can go out for lunch or something?”

He traded his grim with excitement while pulling a pen from his pocket and walking over to the condiments bar to write his number on a napkin. You had no clue as to why, but the fact that he had a pen on hand was strikingly nostalgic, much so as every other detail you had acquired from him.

Although entirely unheard of, you felt like this new knowledge of him was not adding to the collection, but rather dusting old artifacts that had simply been forgotten. You weren’t learning things about him, but instead remembering them; the more you stood watching him scribble his name and number on the napkin, the deeper you entrenched yourself in this theory.

Not to mention, you couldn’t recall the last time someone favored using a pen over a keyboard and a paper napkin over a digital contact entered on your phone.

What kind of person carries around a pen in the age of modern technology?

“Thank you. I’m ___, by the way.” Your hand wavered a bit before holding out to greet him, and when his hand made contact, you could have sworn on your own life that this wasn’t the first time it happened.

This was no introduction. It was a reunion.

The fix of his gaze had suggested he too felt reminiscent with the feeling of your hand.

A shared inability to let go held your hands together, trying to harness a bit of recognition or recall a social function where you two might have met in passing. Neither one of you had shown any intention to pull away, which dragged the formality of shaking hands into a gesture of mutual wonder; now you were not so much exchanging a handshake but rather holding each other. Holding tightly, as if you were rediscovering a mass of feelings that would give you an answer.

However, the answer was not generous enough to make itself available to either of you.

It could have been hours until you were able to unriddle this strange sensation, so you made the preventative move of pulling away before the warmth concocting between your hands would produce a light sweat on your palm.

He too seemed to retract upon regaining his sensibilities, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he would have held on for longer, maybe even forever if necessary. If it would regroup the unattainable and partially inexistent memories into cognizance.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Redacted File No. 12

You clung with desperate persistence onto the flaccid hand. Trailing up the arm was an indiscernible figure that had no features, no notable detailing, not even a vague outline of facial structure; just an ethereal glow that projected throughout the entire room. The nebulous haze terminated any identifiable aspect of the room except the hand you were holding, so you focused on the scant detail your eyes offered.

There was no specified context, no real evidence that you had to hold on, but something deep within you was urging for it. Some omnipotent instinct which prophesied that if you let go of the hand, you would in turn be letting go of the world.

You had to hold on.

However your hands wouldn’t obey you. Each time you tried to tighten your fingers, it felt as if the hand would continue slipping from your grasp. Or maybe, your hands weren't gripping at all.

They were numb, or paralyzed, and unable to execute your urgencies. The more force you exerted into your dire intentions, the easier it was for the hand to grow limp and melt through your fingers like liquid. It was frustrating, your willful attempts to hold on seemed to elicit the opposite effect as the hand, unowned by a certain being, resigned from yours.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.” You chanted through the tears, feeling as though that would somehow ignite a stronghold on the lifeless hand falling away.

But even so, it did fall away.

Perhaps the pain of it was that it wasn’t you who was letting go, but the hand that was being taken away from you. That you had been fighting a losing battle far beyond the prospects of your own decisions or control.

You begged for mercy, but were bestowed with your hands clean of what it was trying so desperately to hold onto. The hand slipped and when you peaked through the glaze of tears, your knuckles and fingers were gripping airy, cold emptiness.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.”

Soon you were captured in a perpetual aria of pleas to the ears of a God that would not listen. Unsettling despair had mutilated the illuminating glow of the room to bleak darkness. The world of colors had fallen absent akin to the cold hand vaporizing alongside the dispersal of light.

Then, everything was black.

Your eyes shot open with deep distraught.

The full moon flashed against your dampened face; half of the moisture sourced from a cold sweat and half from the heavy tears pouring from your eyes.

You knew the only explanation for this dream, which resonated more closely to a memory than a figment of sleepful imagination, was curated by the peculiar events that took place earlier today.

Soon, the dream drifted from your mind as consciousness took its place. Your tardy response to write the sparse remnants of it had left you with nothing but a distorted plot of what transpired during your slumber.

Widening your awakening through long sips of water had forced you into an obsessive rewinding of your memory files. It was a shame there wasn’t technology yet to store memories of your dream, or you’d have been replaying the one you just dreamt about a hundred times.

You scanned through a collection of moments in the afternoon when you first met Taehyung. The clear, digital picture of him glassed over your eyes, taking the place once inhabited by the moon, as you pressed the play button on the handlebar of functions.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

You rewound no later than a second after he introduced himself back to the beginning.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Rewind. 0.5 x speed.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.” Said in a distorted voice from the ‘reduce speed’ function you equipped.

“Kim Taehyung.” You muttered to the empty room and the bright moon.

Sleeping was abstracted to an impossibility, and for the sake of your sanity, you walked over fish out the napkin in your coat pocket. It took you a while to move on from meticulously inspecting Taehyung’s handwriting.

The aimless effort to recall if it was the penmanship of some classmate had slackened to yet another unmet hope. Taehyung didn’t reside in your memories, but claimed quite an existence in your intuition. However, that wasn’t satisfying enough. You settled with the unsolved familiarity, though not before a lengthy wrestle between your eyes and the seven numbers scribbled into the napkin.

After dancing with the idea of it, you resolved some courage to finally dial. Each ping of the phone had you dreading for the automated message to inform you the recipient was not available at the moment, that you would have to hang up or wait for the tone to leave a message. Little by little your spirited nerve had depleted as you were now practicing what message you would leave Taehyung in his voicemail box, praying that it wasn’t full.

“Hello?” The sound of his voice interrupted the seventh or eighth ring, along with your rehearsal of the voicemail you assumed you’d have to leave being that the moon had been aging the sky into midnight.

“Oh! Oh, sorry I didn’t expect you to pick up.” After the chaotic pounding in your chest settled, you realized how nonsensical you sounded. Everything you methodically planned to say had been scattered by his unprecedented answer.

Instead of asking why you would call if you expected him not to pick up, he asked with a kind curiosity:

“Who is this?” He didn’t sound tired, in fact it sounded as if he had been hard at work preceding this call.

“Oh yeah! It’s ___, from the coffee shop. You remember me right?” Though you powered through, the worry was quite deafening. Taehyung seemed to pick up on it and diffused it with a gentle chuckle.

“Of course I remember.” On the other end of the line, he had been penciling a sketch on a blank page in his notebook.

The serenity of the stars and moon pinned on the navy blue sky never failed to spark inspiration. Taehyung was the type to refuse passing up a surge of an artistic muse, even if that meant he would shed a few hours of sleep from his routine. No matter the time or place, he always had a pen on hand to honor his heart’s unremitting passion.

He loved the moon and stars. He loved it so much as one would love a dear friend. He wished to be a part of the scenes of lights that hovered just out of reach, but could only settle on capturing a piece of the starry heavens on paper with his trusty pencil, sketchbook, and emerald-tinted muse.

“It’s late to be calling, but you’re lucky I was awake.” He said to hide how ecstatic he was you had actually called.

For someone you had just met, or at least you thought you just met, he threaded a flirtatious coyness in his response. It difficult to hush the winged eruption in your stomach because of that.

“Lucky, huh.” You repeated through a mumbled laugh, “I was just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” He had placed his phone on speaker mode and laid it next to his sketchbook.

There was a new inspiration that bore a louder siren than that of the moon and the stars. He sifted through the memory files throughout his day to the minute he first bumped into you, and though your face had been ingrained quite clearly behind his eyelids with each blink, he relied on the accuracy of a reference to perfect his drawing of you; not to mention he projected the image of your face to delight his undeniable attraction and to moderate the wildly romanticized version of you in his head.

Perhaps if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to discern your face from the arena of glimmering stars scattered along the shaded skies.

“Just about how I think I was too quick to pass your offer.”

“Really?” That endearing lilt hope in his voice, the excitement expressed, acted as some puppeteer that manipulated the corner of your lips to lift into a smile.

No muscle in your body could ever be moved with the same conviction as it did when he was the reason for it. It bewildered you, almost to the point of frustration, as to why he had this power over you.

I just met him. I'm already getting this worked up? You thought how absurd it was you'd fallen this quickly, hoping it would ground you to the reality that he was still a stranger you hadn’t exchanged more than two conversations with.

Though, reality and memories and data files had all been obscured ever since you met Taehyung which was fascinating more than it was disorienting.

“Would you want to, maybe, grab coffee? Say next Thursday?” Your hand was subconsciously gripping the bed sheets, just like the way you gripped the disembodied hand in your dream, and awaited his response with full-blown suspense.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, ___.” Taehyung's confirmation put all your anxiety to rest, as well as your tightly clamped hand around the cotton fabric.

“I’ll see you.” You mimicked as if that would make the idea of seeing Taehyung again any less surreal. He laughed at this and brushed up a few finishing touches on his drawing.

“So just to clarify.” His pause gave entry for curiosity to wire through your head.

“Yes?”

“When you said you were thinking… you were thinking of me?” You wanted the upper hand to be reinstated with you, but your shy chuckle was no match to the smirk adopted on his lips that you couldn’t see, but you knew was there. You knew he was prideful when he swept the rug right out from under your feet, and you were right.

“Perhaps. And what if I was?” You framed your question to render your intimidation as flattery. Though, you had no idea how convincing this facade actually was and that it came off more suggestive than you had expected. There was a part of you that had fraternized with the romantic idea of Taehyung which might have registered your motive to reciprocate an undertone beyond platonic.

“Then that would be one thing we have in common.” He sounded responsive to your flirting and raised the bar significantly.

Your eyes and smile were directed towards the scenery displayed by your window, but they were not dedicated to the moonlit beauty of the diamond encrested sky. Though the midnight glades of stars were the ones to witness your smile, it was, without a shadow of a doubt, dedicated to Taehyung.

He was staring at the same moon, the same plot of stars, so perhaps you were looking into each other. When the moon twinkled, it looked awfully similar to a smile. Your smile.

For the moment, there was a radio silence that splintered through the two speakers of your and Taehyung’s phones. Even if the use of his hands weren’t engaged by his needful recreation of your face through his art, if his hands were left unused, he wouldn’t have mustered the discipline to end the call. Your unoccupied hands were trying to find any employment so you could have some excuse for not hanging up as well, not that there was anything else to be discussed.

Again, it felt familiar. The feeling of hesitance to be the first one to hang up despite the conversation’s recoil.

The cohesive idleness of you and Taehyung was unprovoked and ran out for about a minute. Neither of you had the intention to sever the virtual communion quite yet. The awkwardness of sitting in silence on the phone with a newly acquainted stranger was a delicacy compared to preemptively ending the call.

At one point, you were about to question if he had hung up; but the rhythmic and light breathing told you otherwise. And because of that mutual need to stay on the line, it seemed to be unreasonable to hang up, save for the yawn that eventually trimmed the call to an end.

“You’re tired.” He stated, now prompted with a yawn of his own upon hearing yours. “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” Saying his name out loud sent you into that same blend of reminiscence and nostalgia.

His name was not unexplored by your tongue, that much was certain, and the thought of putting your entire life on hold to discover why it felt that way was a tempting venture. Why when he said your name, it felt like sitting in front of a wood-burning fireplace under the security of a green sweater and wrapped in safe arms.

More than that, you wanted to know if he felt all these things too.

“I’ll see you?” You asked instead of saying that dreadful word 'goodbye'.

“I’ll see you.” He repeated before reluctantly hanging up.

“___.” He whispered your name, hoping the inky sky would design it in the stars for the world to remember forever.

Hoping that the next hours, which would surely be spent on multiple sketched renditions of your face, would amount in some revelation of the mystifying familiarity. He believed shedding a few graphite imitations onto the surface of his sketchbook, soaked by the glow of moonlight, would somehow make him remember everything hidden in the dark compartments of his heart.

However, if it didn’t, he would be okay with it. Because at least he knew he would see you again.

“Meeting place: Silver Lining Café.”

“Thank you, Agent Park. Heighten surveillance on the two subjects.”

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