#pure fiction although not pure in the moral sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tyxoxo · 2 years

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One Night Only - III.

ch. 1 , ch. 2, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 7.3k

(future) Warnings: pure filth, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction), unprotected sex, choking, slapping, degrading, spitting, dumbification, dacryphilia, oral (f and m receiving), cum play, envy, mdni!

a/n: i somehow managed to injure myself ㅠㅠ and because of that, i didn’t get a chance to include everything that i wanted in this because im in pain. but dw, i’ve divided it up and ch. 4 is in the works!

Chapter 3

The day felt insufferable. Tuesday just had to be one of those slow days. That, combined with Renjun, Jun, and Mark being out, made you want to jab a pencil through your ear.

Only 5 customers had come and gone since the store opened and that wasn’t enough to distance yourself from Jeno. He had decided to take charge for the day…and instead of doing nothing at the register, he decided to be near you. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely trying to help you unbox the new book repairs or just have a reason to constantly brush shoulders with you.

You remained silent as you used the box cutter to slice open the large cardboard lids. It sounded quite appealing to use that box cutter on him, maybe just a nick would be enough to fix his behavior.

Surprisingly, he had been quiet just like you, for now…

“So do you live by yourself?” Jeno broke the silence while the two of you bent down to pry open the cardboard boxes.

Yet again you didn’t look at him. You weren’t even sure if you’ve ever seen the exact color of his eyes since you’ve started working here.

“Uhmm…why is that the first question you ask me?” Fucking weirdo.

“Just trying to get to know you.”

“You’ll never get to know me.” You said it louder than expected. You trailed off with a stack of books in your hand, hoping to be faster than him so you could move onto your next task. Naturally, Jeno was right behind you, with his own stack ready to be put on the same shelves you were going to.

Your body felt tense knowing that the two of you were towards the back corner of the store. There was no telling what else Jeno would try to quiz you on.

“Oh, is that what it is? You’re playing hard to get?”

You could see from your peripheral that Jeno had his tongue poking his cheek with a devilish grin to match. There was no point in replying to his nonsensical quips, he would just have another thought up within the next 30 seconds.

“You don’t have to worry, there’s nothing appealing about you.”

It was amazing how much you tolerated his bullshit, although the heat in your cheeks conveyed otherwise.

“C’mon, say something. I’m bored.”

Silence still.

“Still nothing hm? What if I said I was sorry? Would you forgive me for calling you a basic bitch?”

“Over my dead body.” You spat back at him.

You could hear him trying to hide the chuckle brewing in his throat.

Surprisingly, that was the last of the conversation for the next hour. There were still two huge boxes left to open and every now and then Jeno would have to step away and check out someone at the register. Unboxing was a tedious task but it kept your mind busy. If Jeno was an actual decent person, you wouldn’t mind getting acquainted. It didn’t even feel morally right to ask him anything. How would he feel if you ticked him off just like he did you?

“I feel bad for Renjun.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Did you threaten him with his life and force him to be your friend?” You asked with no sense of playfulness behind your voice. You were dead serious.

“We’ve been friends since we were in elementary school. He’s used to me.”

“What do you mean, used to you?”

“He’s the only one that can put up with my bullshit.”

“Clearly.” You scoffed. It was obvious but you just wanted to hear it from him first.

Of course people acted differently at work versus at home but it seemed that Jeno was a straight-shooter no matter who was around.

“I feel bad for myself.”

You resisted the urge to turn your head and face him because of his statement.

“Why?”

“Because I’m here, with you. I’d rather be sick at home.”

“Who the fuck raised you?”

You deserved an answer.

There was a moment that you considered holding your head high to anticipate his response. But all thoughts of courage were ripped away from you as a flurry of wind swirled around your body. You barely had time to raise your hands and resist as your subconscious dispersed your vision for a split second. Jeno’s hands clasped onto your shoulders as he pushed you into the bookshelf behind you, his hands then settling on either side of your head. Your back arched at the harsh contact of the shelf striking your spine, causing your chest to recoil. There were no defense mechanisms you could muster. You felt trapped, but inexplicably satisfied.

You finally met his eyes, for the first time.

They reminded you of burnt charcoal…a dark, endless, loophole of black.

His cool breath hit your lips as his husky voice singed all the way down to your core.

“Don’t you ever question me about my family.”

He bared his teeth as if he was a predator. A predator petrifying its prey. You noticed that his eyes were no longer burning into your own. They had traveled down to your lips.

You weren’t able to process if a customer had seen the two of you in this position: Jeno…pressed against you. Not out of passion, but out of rage.

“You’re finally looking at me. Don’t… move.” He whispered to you now, but his icy breath still laced into your nose with the same intensity. You obeyed him, hoping that he could see that you still had not moved.

Your clasped hands were beginning to give out. Your knees were buckling. Why hadn’t you slapped him already?

Before you could take a breath, Jeno backed away from you as a grunt fell from his lips.

Through your hooded eyes, you saw him storm off to the bathroom. There was a tightness in your chest that you never felt before.

Your knees gave out, causing you to slide down the shelf. The floor seemed like an acceptable resting place for now.

It took every bit of control Jeno had to not grasp your chin and take a bite out of your lips. That bitch…How dare she.

Those that really knew him, knew to never bring up his family.

“You’re not worthy to be my son anymore.”

Picturing his pig father spit those words made venom pool in his mouth.

It was the same scene that played in his mind during those nights in his room. Knowing that his mother never stood up for him, instead retreating back to watch her husband disparage their only child.

He would make sure your filthy mouth never crossed that line again. All you needed was to be brought down to your knees, and taught how to take a mouthful of cock. It was the perfect way to shut you up.

Jeno shook his head of his intrusive thoughts. It was excruciating how tight his jeans were beginning to feel knowing that you were probably in shock from his treatment. Meeting eyes with you for the first time, seeing that pitiful look on your face. He craved to see that again. You reacted in a way that made him feel like he owned every bit of you.

It didn’t help that Jeno had been practically bitchless for 2 weeks. To others that was standard but to him, it was unacceptable.

A splash of water to the face was enough to cool him off but he was faced with another problem: he had a very visible boner.

He could have tried to stay in the bathroom for a few more minutes but something told him that you were going to be found by a customer and taken away to an urgent care clinic.

“Fuck my life…” Jeno sighed into his hands. Invisibility would have been perfect for this moment as his sense of clairvoyance was predictable. Once he opened the door, you were still slumped against the shelf. A customer was tending to you, patting your forehead with a tissue.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?” You hoped the elderly lady beside you had no idea what happened.

“I’m fine. The books were just too heavy.”

You would just have to use the disheveled floor to your advantage. Surely it seemed that you tried to carry way more than you could handle which caused your body to give out. Atleast, that’s the picture you painted for this caring customer.

“Are you sur-”

“I can help her. I’ll make sure she rests and gets something to drink.”

You couldn’t hide the staggered look on your face. Jeno had appeared on the other side of you, crouched down with his hand on your shoulder; a sizzling afterburn from where they were moments before.

“Here, take this. This should be enough to get her a bottle of water from the store nearby.”

She definitely didn’t see what happened.

How could anyone forget a snake like Jeno, trapping you within his broad frame?

He smiled and reached his hands out to decline the money she offered. You had never seen him smile before. Although he tried to hide his true intentions, seeing his lips turn upwards in a closed-mouth grin was an image you would never forget.

“Thank you for your concern.”

The elderly lady finally gave in. Once she was far enough away, you managed to see through your faltering vision that Jeno’s smile flipped completely. He had that lethal look on his face again.

“Get up.” Jeno’s voice resonated through you. You winced at how tight he squeezed your arm to drag you over to the tables nearby.

“That hurts!” Before you could protest some more, you were already seated. He didn’t even bother saying sorry.

You watched as he returned to where all the books were: you must’ve not heard them drop before he practically manhandled you against the shelves.

Jeno began to gather the books into a single pile while crouched down. You found it strange how stiff he looked while trying to put them on the top shelf.

Was he really that stumped from eye contact? It couldn’t be that. This was “vain Jeno” you were referring to.

One rub of your eyes was all it took to see a tent in his jeans. But a second one was needed for good measure.

The best thing you could do was pretend you were blind. Your eyes immediately fell down to look at your hands.

You had given up your seat at the table a long time ago so you could cover for Jeno while he went to lunch. The only indicator being that he ripped off his badge and stormed outside.

4:45pm

[renjun]: is jeno being nice?

It took you a second to realize that Renjun had indeed texted you. The two of you hadn’t exchanged numbers yet.

[you]: how did you get my number?

[renjun]: i asked mark for it, hope you don’t mind. something just told me that i needed to check on you.

[you]: aren’t you sick? why don’t you rest

[renjun]: thanks for ignoring my question. i’ll just bug jeno later.

Renjun’s sense of perception intimidated you.

There was only about 2 hours left until the end of your shift. It had been excruciatingly awkward since Jeno blindsided you earlier. He kept his distance but if that was only because of his boner, that was a testament to your worth.

You prayed the Mark would be back tomorrow.

One Month Later

“Hey, i’ve been meaning to tell you that there’s a new optical illusion museum that opened up in Seocho. I don’t have anyone to go with, would you be interested?” Renjun asked while the two of you were side by side attaching a huge banner to the ceiling that read “NEW ARRIVALS: Historical Fiction, Military Fiction, and more!!”

“Oh, that sounds cool! When do you want to go?”

“I was thinking this weekend? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah that should work. I haven’t been doing anything interesting lately.”

“Same here. Let’s aim for Sunday!” Renjun said while fanning the banner to get out the wrinkles.

If this was anyone else besides Renjun, you would’ve declined the invite. But the two of you had gotten quite close within the month of meeting each other for the first time. You considered Jun cool too but he spent too much time with Jeno on the clock; so he was a hit or miss most days.

It comforted you knowing that Renjun knew that you and Jeno still weren’t on good terms. You were definitely the more mature one as you didn’t want to ditch Renjun just because he and Jeno were childhood best friends.

Jeno had stopped antagonizing you ever since that Tuesday. There was no teasing, smart remarks, eye rolling, nothing. You knew he was a womanizing edgelord but you never thought he would have a chance to get that close to you. You figured that if nature versus nurture was in his favor, maybe he would’ve turned out different. There was obviously something that wounded him in the past.

“I'm open to whatever time just-.”

“Come down guys. I have a very important announcement!” Mark's clap accompanied with his interruption nearly scared you off the ladder. Luckily, it wasn’t that high of a drop if you did manage to fall.

“Ahhh, Mark you scared me!” Renjun exclaimed as he hung his head low.

You, Renjun, Jun, Jeno, and Mark were all circled around in the back of the store. Mark had a huge grin on his face as he stood and faced the 4 of you.

“I just wanted to tell you all that I have been extremely pleased with your guys’ performance. Lately, we’ve been picking up the pace with a lot of new arrivals and book signings, but that doesn’t stop you all from really outshining our competitors. I wanted to show my appreciation by hosting a dinner at Cornerstone tomorrow night at 7:30pm. You are not obligated to come but I highly recommend it. They have amazing Italian food and I'm paying for everyone’s meal!”

From what you could see, the 4 of you didn’t really have much of a reaction until Mark’s last sentence. Renjun and Jun’s mouth even dropped. You were quite shocked as well. That restaurant was located in Gangnam: one of the richest and most upscale districts in Seoul. You nearly fainted at the fact that casual dress probably wasn’t allowed there.

“Wouldn’t that be expensive though?” Renjun asked while biting his lip. It seemed he was thinking the same thing you were.

“I’m down. It’s free food.” Jun shrugged while giving Renjun a “don’t mess this up for us” expression.

“Jeno, you coming?” Mark signaled him out, most likely because Jeno was usually busy on the weekends with some girl. Everyone was aware of that.

“Since you’re paying, yeah. But I'm not going to stay and chat.” He scoffed while blowing a strand from his bangs out of his face.

“Fair enough! It’ll be at 7pm. No such thing as fashionably late! You guys can resume. I hope you all consider coming.”

“Do you still feel like going to the museum? I would just feel bad if you had to see my face that much outside of work.” Renjun whispered to you while everyone went back to their designated areas.

“Nooo it’s fine. I need more to do with my weekends anyways!”

“Okay good. Thank you for agreeing to hang out.” Renjun bowed with clasped hands.

“Of course!”

There was no reason to be this stressed over an employee dinner. It was currently 5pm and you still hadn’t chosen an outfit.

Searching up pictures of the restaurant didn’t help: it looked expensive just like you imagined. Luckily, you had a few items of clothing that could fit a fancy dining place. It was just a matter of putting together what matched.

You opted for something simple and monochromatic to blend in easier; nothing too flashy nor too plain. Plus, whatever you could do to remain invisible to Jeno, the better.

By the time you showered, washed your face and did your hair, it was already 6:30pm. You were cutting it too close. It took 45 minutes to travel via subway from Hongdae to Gangnam. Taxiing was a faster but more expensive option that you didn’t feel like taking.

“Shit…” you exhaled while rushing out the door with your wallet, keys and phone. The brutality of the winds outside shocked you down to your bones. By the time you realized there was an overcast, you were already boarded on the train to Gangnam.

You felt alienated in this part of Seoul. It wasn’t often that you could visit or sight-see, especially with your salary. Even the people on the train were dressed to impress, but considering it was an incoming Saturday night, there were bound to be people with their own expensive weekend plans.

Walking the 10-minutes from the subway station was half the battle considering the harsh winds. Leaves constantly blew up against your ankles causing you to skip along the crosswalk.

Your phone read 7:29pm by the time you made it to the doors. You hoped and prayed that they weren’t already seated.

It was quite packed inside but that didn’t stop you from observing the interior. There were so many different variations of glass vases placed around, all filled with onyx stones and lillies. Dainty fairy lights hung from the ceiling with a crystal chandelier in the middle. Every table was a polished acacia wood with red velvet booths and chairs.

You were definitely only ordering an appetizer.

Your guilty thoughts of hurting Mark’s bank account was cut short by a hostess that walked up and greeted you.

“I’m looking for a party of 4 under the name Mark Lee?”

“Yes, right this way, miss.” The hostess led the way towards the back, with a runway walk that must’ve been so exhausting to execute during her entire shift. It made you feel self conscious about how poor your posture was.

Mark must’ve lucked out with being able to score a table in the very back that was away from the noisier areas.

To your dismay, everyone was there before you…including Jeno. You technically weren’t late, just right on time.

“Last one to show up eh?” Mark smiled while getting up from his seat. You almost stopped in your tracks from seeing him in a suit. You were only used to seeing him in a white crew-neck with the sleeves always bunched at his elbows, a green apron, blue jeans and tennis shoes.

“I’m so sorry.” You bowed to him as he did to you.

“I’m just teasing. We haven’t even ordered yet, just waters and champagne.” He said while pulling back the chair for you to sit.

Fortunately, you were seated in between Renjun and Jun, with Mark and Jeno on the other side of the table. Your breath hitched in your throat at seeing Jeno. He kept his head down, presumably to text on his phone, not once to look up at your arrival unlike the others. He had a pained look on his face but you had to admit that he looked good. His furrowed brow causing a lump in your throat.

His forehead was showing, which was a first for you to witness. His hair was slicked back, his bangs heavily pomaded. He wore a tucked white t-shirt, rustic-suede jacket, belt, black skinny jeans, and black chukka boots. The only reason you were able to tell what he wore from the waist down was because of how low the table was.

Renjun sported something similar to Jeno but with a black suede jacket and beige oxford shoes.

Jun adorned a black long-sleeved dress shirt, dark blue cuffed jeans, and brown chelsea boots.

“Now that everyone’s here, I can give a proper thanks.”

Renjun cleared his throat to get Jeno off of his phone. It worked.

You watched as he raised his head up slowly before pinching the bridge of his nose. He was irritated with something, probably with the idea of being stuck here.

“As you all know, my parents are entrusting me with ownership of the store. They’re getting close to retirement age so I do have some pressure on my shoulders with taking over but because of you all, I’m able to see through to an ever growing future.”

Mark always astounded you with his way with words. You figured he was young when you first met him but when Renjun confirmed that he was only 23, it explained everything. He had a young yet sovereign spirit.

“I know that you all have your own aspirations and ventures and I don’t expect you all to stay with me forever so why not make a toast to the present? This dinner is for you guys.” Mark beamed while raising his champagne glass for us to follow along.

Who knew that a job at a bookstore would lead to an extravagant dinner hosted by your young, rich, boss?

“Cheers.” The 5 of you said while toasting each other's glass.

A few moments later, the server stopped by and took everyone’s order. You ordered an appetizer, just like you had planned. The same couldn’t be said for Renjun, Jun, and Jeno though.

“I don’t want this dinner to just be about me. Let’s do a round table of everyone’s future plans. Renjun, how about you start?”

This was one way to pass the time waiting on food but it was also nerve-wracking at the same time. You didn’t really have an intricate answer. Even Renjun was caught off guard by the question; his eyes scanning wildly out of control.

“Uh-uhmm. I’m not too sure yet. I’m really happy working at the bookstore. If anything, I want to become a vet tech but we’ll see.”

“That sounds cool. How long is the schooling for that?” Mark asked after taking a sip from his champagne glass.

“Just 2 years at any technical school. That’s better than the 4 years my parents wanted me to do. They weren’t too happy with me not wanting to do university.”

“Makes sense! I hope it goes well for you.”

“Thank you.” Renjun said while graciously bowing in his seat.

“Alright, you’re next.” Mark pointed his glass to you. But you were going to try to dodge this as best as you could.

“I’m not too sure yet either. Jun you’re up.” You covered your eyes at how much you failed to get the attention off of you.

Everyone but Jeno chuckled. You were curious if Mark would try to pester you or leave it be.

“I get it. Don’t worry, I won’t force an answer out of you. But yes, Jun your turn.”

Before Jun could speak, the server came with a tray of everyone’s food. You thought you were familiar with Italian cuisine but judging by how grande these dishes looked, you were wrong. There was no way you could accurately name them. Based on what knowledge you had, you could only recognize Jeno’s dish as carbonara.

Your appetizer was a decent sized portion considering fancy restaurants were usually skimpy on the amount of food given. Everyone began to dig in, undoubtedly hungry since it was around 8pm. You tried your best to keep your eyes glued to your plate but every now and then your eyes would scan Jeno.

How could he possibly not have a headache from how tight his brows were pulled together?

Even the way he ate seemed so mad. He attacked his plate with his titanium chopsticks. Maybe he was just hangry…

Jun continued the round table after taking a few bites from his plate of food. You smiled to yourself seeing Renjun chew his food; every now and then he would pat his own cheek to remind himself not to smack.

“I plan on moving to Germany. I’ve always been so immersed by their language and culture. I guess they’re offering a lot of editorial jobs for authors there.”

Everyone’s eyes got big at his revelation.

“Wow! I had no idea. How long have you been learning German?” Renjun asked while wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“Ever since I graduated high school. So for 8 years now.”

“Could you say a few words for us? If you don’t mind?” Mark asked with a look of amazement on his face.

Jun began talking in German with ease, so fast that you couldn’t tell where the sentences ended and began. Even though you couldn’t understand, you clapped along with the others.

Jun smiled while putting his hands together, bowing twice.

“That’s amazing. Well, certainly don’t give up Jun!” Mark said while the rest of you nodded in agreement.

“Okay, nice guy. Your turn.”

You should’ve pretended to choke on your drink at Mark’s title given to Jeno.

Jeno ignored Mark, choosing to eat his food at a quicker pace. Renjun sighed.

“Jeno?” Mark addressed him in a more subdued tone of voice.

“What?” That was the first word Jeno spoke since you’ve been here. You couldn’t tell the exact nature of his mood from the simple “what” because of the amount of food in his mouth.

“I’ve overheard about your modelling endeavors a couple of times. How’s that going?” Mark attempted to approach the conversation in a way that would get Jeno to open up. You weren’t sure if it would work.

But, modelling?

You were definitely not around when this was discussed at work. Maybe it was before you got there.

Jeno put down his chopsticks after taking his last bite of food. He sat back in his chair, patting down his jacket.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten a few offers here.”

“Oh okay. How soon until you leave us then?” Mark asked with a raised brow.

“It depends.”

You wanted to hear more but he was keeping his responses short.

He indeed had the face, the height and the physique to pull it off. You just hoped that whoever gave him a chance never got to witness his personality, unless maybe he got his shit together by then. The table felt a bit awkward now that everyone was finishing up with their meals. The clacking of utensils couldn’t fill the silence anymore. All of the champagne was gone, and no one seemed like eating dessert.

“I hope to see you on billboards someday, Jeno.” Mark winked while signing off on the bill. Out of respect, you kept your head down so you couldn’t see the price. It was best you didn’t know.

“How’s everyone getting home? Just thought I'd ask since it’s quite dark out.”

“I live in Jongno but the station is only a 5-minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the food.” Jun said while gathering his keys and phone.

“You’re welcome! What about you two? I’m assuming you all are leaving together?” Mark directed his attention to Jeno and Renjun.

“Ye-”

“No. I need to go to the store.” Jeno cut Renjun off to his dismay. You noticed how he darted his eyes towards Jeno, obviously bothered by that decision.

“You can’t just wait until tomorrow?” Renjun asked in a frustrated tone.

“No. Thanks for the dinner Mark.” Jeno lazily saluted Mark and stood up from his seat, already making his way to the front.

“Anytime! What about you?”

“I have about a 10-minute walk to the station.” You said while gathering your belongings.

“Are you okay to travel alone?” You really didn’t mind. Seoul’s crime rate wasn’t a cause for concern.

“Yeah, I’m good! I actually like walking at night.” You made sure your voice sounded more confident so Mark wouldn’t get any ideas about escorting you home.

“Okay! Well, I appreciate you guys coming. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Once you all made it to the front entrance, everyone collectively sighed. The wind was still just as angry as it was an hour ago.

You noticed that Mark, Jun, and Renjun had reached for their umbrellas that were in a caddy underneath a coat rack. Jeno must’ve already walked out.

One look at the weather app was all it took for you to curse under your breath: the forecast showed heavy rain within an hour. You were the only one not prepared.

“See you tomorrow at noon right?” Renjun nudged your arm as everyone exited to go their separate routes.

“Yep! See ya.”

You were shit out of luck thinking you could make it home before it rained. As soon as you got a far enough distance from the group, it began to pour.

If you hadn’t rushed getting out the door, you would’ve remembered to grab your umbrella out of your shoe closet.

This was the longest 10-minute walk of your life.

Although the neon lights from bars and restaurants reflected nicely off the pavement, you weren’t able to see much else around you. The heavy droplets hitting your eyelids felt too much like hail.

Jeno had managed to go to a nearby convenience store to grab a pack of condoms. For some reason that couldn’t wait until tomorrow like Renjun suggested but he figured since he was already dressed nicely, he might as well visit a new girl he began talking to just yesterday.

He managed to get her number within 3 minutes at the grocery store yesterday. Easy.

However, it wasn’t easy planning the hookup. She seemed indecisive, which was why he looked so irritated at the dinner. When he offered to show up, she brought up an excuse.

[grocery store girl #3]: well, i have a roommate

[jeno]: and? we can try to be quiet

[grocery store girl #3]: plus, my roommate has a large dog, wouldn’t that be an issue

[jeno]: no. do you want me to come over or not? why not my place?

[grocery store girl #3]: no it’s raining. come to me instead

[jeno]: i’m gonna stop by the store and then i’ll be there in 10

She was hot, but she was being difficult. At this rate with the weather, he might as well give up. But he was lucky to snatch her that day. He’d gone a month without sex. That was considered taboo.

She conveniently lived in Gangnam to which he automatically assumed she was part of the higher class demographic. Luckily, he brought along an umbrella so he could still scan the GPS on his phone. The “Maps” told him to cross the street at the next light as her apartment was situated on the left side of Apgujeong road.

The streets were still roaring with cars and people skipping along with their umbrellas. Once in a while a passerby would look up and stare at Jeno; how his long legs looked in his black skinny jeans, how he walked with such determination.

Jeno had to stop himself from freezing in the middle of the crosswalk. There in the distance on the left side, he saw you.

No umbrella, no coat…rushing to get home.

What a fucking idiot…

The forecast clearly showed a rainstorm that would last all night.

He thought of leaving you there to get drenched in the rain. Not like you would be able to see him walk past you anyways. After all, he had a girl waiting for him.

A scream erupted from your throat from feeling a tug on your shoulder. Without even seeing who touched you, you swung your arms in a feeble attempt to defend yourself.

“Hey, chill out! It’s me!”

The voice came from Jeno?

“You scared me! Say something next time!”

Once you were able to contain yourself, you saw him. Of course, he had an umbrella and you didn’t.

“I did! You couldn’t hear me.” He spoke loudly to combat the raindrops that sounded too much like firework poppers.

“Oh. Sorry. Well what do you want?”

You made sure to sound annoyed. You saw how he looked at the dinner and the last thing you needed was his bad juju to engulf your already crappy night.

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Your body tensed up. This proposition seemed unheard of coming out of his mouth.

“Y’know what. Forget it.”

He began to stomp along the pavement, leaving you as a statue amongst the storm.

“No! Wait! Yes, you can.”

He stopped and turned slowly, with one hand in his pocket and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He kept his head down as he stepped up to you.

He outstretched his arm, giving up his umbrella without another word; getting drenched in the process.

“We can share. Don’t do that.” You wrapped your hand around his wrist that was holding onto the umbrella. His brow furrowed at the skin contact, but you figured it was from your cold, wet hand.

You stepped under the umbrella and the two of you began walking to the nearest subway terminal.

“Do I need to give directions or are you familiar with how to get to Hongdae from here?”

“No, I’m familiar. Can we just take a taxi? It’s gonna take fucking forever if we take the train.”

Since he had control over the umbrella, you both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as he looked down at you, waiting for your answer. This was only the second time that the two of you held eye contact for this long. You remember the last time being a complete heart-stopper. The way his black eyes scanned your face waiting for a response made your lips quiver. You could just mentally blame it on the temperature outside.

“Yeah, le-let’s take a taxi. I’ll call one.”

“Have them come to this bar over here.”

Jeno pointed over to the nearby bar still teeming with customers. It was better to sit in there than on the wet ledges outside. The two of you continued to stand in the middle of the sidewalk, splitting the wave of oncoming pedestrians while you called.

“They said they’ll be here in 15-minutes.”

Jeno led the way to the bar, shaking his umbrella free of the excess rain once you all made it to the front entrance.

This all felt so strange. You still had a ways to go until you got home, yet here you were, with Jeno. There was no way he would go the entire distance. He would surely give up if this taxi took longer than 15 minutes to show up.

“Are you okay?” You asked while the two of you sat at the bar. It was crowded but you didn’t have to talk too loud for him to hear you.

“Why do you ask? Are you upset that I’ve directed my attention to someone else other than you?”

He totally misinterpreted your question.

Why did you even bother asking?

“Who’s someone else?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell that you’ve dragged this on for too long.”

“I never tried to lead you on. You’re just delusional.” If it was true that he was done aggravating you, then why did he have to announce that? Why was that so important?

“Why were you being disrespectful during the dinner? Being on your phone instead of being a part of the conversation?”

“Don’t ask me questions. It’s none of your business. Plus the last time you asked me something, I made you light headed. So I suggest you tread lightly.”

“I can handle you just fine…” Jeno knew you couldn’t. The lies you told only fueled his ego. If he had it his way, you wouldn’t be able to come into work for a week.

You swallowed that familiar lump in your throat when you saw him shake his head and smirk.

Tonight would only get worse from here.

The rest of the time spent at the bar and the cab ride was mostly quiet. You got plenty of looks from strangers. It made you wonder if they thought you and Jeno were dating. You felt off-color for even thinking such a thing. Jeno did fit the model archetype. It was only right for him to be with someone of the same standard. Hell, he looked like he belonged in Gangnam, as opposed to you.

The taxi was definitely the smarter option, a huge 20-minute difference. You were more than ready to get home, shower, and set your clothes up to dry in the bathroom.

“My apartment is just up here.” You pointed up to your home that was situated on a hill. Jeno didn’t respond, only following behind this time as you led the way to the lobby and then up the elevator to the 5th floor.

You felt a sense of impending doom. The amount of awkwardness that would flood your entire front porch once it was time for him to leave would no doubt drown you. It didn’t feel right to say “goodbye” or “see you later.” Not even a “thank you” seemed appropriate.

You didn’t know how far he lived from here but you figured he would curse at you in his head for having to walk you home, just because you didn’t bring an umbrella. For him to go the entire trip, meant something to you. He could’ve just left you once you got in the taxi. And he definitely could’ve left you in the lobby.

Come to think of it, why was he going up the elevator with you?

There was no way he was “gentleman” enough to walk you all the way to your front door too?

The “ding” of the elevator reaching the 5th floor snapped you out of your raging thoughts. You walked out, he followed.

You had your key ready in hand to open the door to your place. You made it home…finally. There was no amount of confidence you could dig up to face him and say thank you, so you chose to look down at his chest instead.

“Thanks for walking me home.” Your voice trembled again. This happened every time the two of you were alone; it was getting old now.

“You suck at eye contact, you know that right?” Jeno blurted out, completely disregarding your gratitude.

You froze.

“Why is that huh?”

You tried to ignore the rasp in his voice that undoubtedly made your hands sweat.

He took one step forward. You stood in place.

“I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about you. It pisses me off actually.” He whispered.

He took another step forward. This time, his eyes peering at your parted lips, your chest touching his.

The moment you decided to look up at him, he backed you against your door. His arms were on either side of your head. This felt all too familiar.

To an outsider, it would seem that you were readying your clenched fist for a punch. But you were trying your hardest not to kiss him.

The man that always gave you hell.

“What is there to think about?”

You challenged his words.

You didn’t expect Jeno to answer so quickly. On the contrary, the world was still in slow motion as he lowered his head to your level, leaning in further.

“I could corrupt you…and you would thank me for it.”

Your hand clenched your key card so hard that it felt like it was leaving permanent indentations in your palms. Your stomach felt like it dropped to the floor. Jeno’s eyelids fluttered close, covering his pitch black irises.

His pride would be the death of him.

The only action that seemed right in this tortuous game of fight or flight was flight.

Your head turned at just the right moment before his lips made contact with yours, his nose grazing your cheek in the process.

There wasn’t an explanation for why you denied the kiss. Judging by the way he sighed, you figured he was forever done with you.

He stepped back, swiping his thumb along his nose.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t collapse like last time. You would hold your ground and leave him be.

He walked away, like it was nothing. Like you were nothing.

In a daze, you used your key card to unlock your door. There was still a bit of determination left in you to freshen up after being drenched in rain for the past hour.

If you only knew that Jeno would never let you go now.

He’d never been rejected before.

A part of him knew that you would turn your head away from him, but seeing it in real time confirmed that you were different.

This was the first time he ever held his head down in shame. Maybe he did when he was younger but of course he couldn’t recall that.

He felt lost. He needed to gain that control over you again. There just wasn’t another window of opportunity he could imagine besides right now.

By the time Jeno made it outside, there was something inside him that told him to go back up and knock on your door. He twirled his folded umbrella at his hip, opting to let the raindrops cover his body and drown his desertion.

With a quick turn of his heel, he power walked back into the lobby and towards the elevator.

It felt nice to finally sit down in your living room. You felt mentally exhausted from tonight's events but you managed to pull enough energy to set your wet clothes up in the bathroom, dry off your body, brush your teeth and put on pajamas.

The rain had finally calmed down but it was still pleasing to see how the last remaining drops fell down the patio door behind your couch.

Your mind was trying hardest not to linger back to Jeno’s attempt at kissing you. There wouldn’t be another chance like that again. But a part of you wondered why you were regretting letting him walk away.

“I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about you. It pisses me off actually.”

He couldn’t have meant that. It wasn’t plausible. Time and time again he would entertain why you were so uninteresting, so average, so simple.

While scrolling through the streaming service to select a movie, you jumped from hearing two knocks at your door. Luckily, your electric diffuser wasn’t loud enough to drown it out.

You were light on your feet approaching the door, making sure to check through the peephole.

It was Jeno.

The dead giveaway was his suede jacket, but by the looks of it, he looked completely soaked.

He had an umbrella so why wasn’t he using it?

It didn’t take much deliberation in your head on whether or not to open your front door.

Jeno’s head rose from looking at the floor, his slicked back bangs not holding steady anymore due to the rain. The leftover drops on his plump lips caused you to pause mid-swing from opening the door. His umbrella was hung low at his side with the loop handle intertwined in his left hand.

It didn’t seem like he was ready to talk, despite his eyes staring deep into yours.

“Why did you come back?” Your eyes scanned for an answer, but there was only deafening silence. The pause after you spoke seemed to last a few minutes.

You briefly turned to push more of your door open so it wouldn’t close behind you.

Your steps felt way too calculated for what you wanted to do; everything else way too sporadic.

Stepping up to him for once in your life wasn’t as debilitating as you thought it would be. The courage you managed to bring forth, empowered you enough to stand meters away from him.

Jeno didn’t falter. He didn’t step back or curl away. His eyes followed your every move, finally settling at your lips again.

The drop of his umbrella was the last thing you could recall before connecting your lips to his.

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

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shiningstardan · 8 months

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☆ H i

I'm Dan ~ I hope you are doing well!

Welcome to the blog, I mainly write fanfics here, mostly for Nejihina and Mystrade although I hope to write more things from other fandoms in the future.

I don't reblog much stuff here, I have other blogs for that.

Before you scroll down please read the disclaimer.

This is a - m a t u r e - blog. I will write and share things, you may not like.

So... reader discretion and all that jazz ~

☆ D I S C L A I M E R

Hi, in case you stumbled over my little corner of the internet, please be careful. What I write is purely fictional, and its purpose is to fulfill a - f a n t a s y -

I could write about things that don't align with my philosophy, beliefs or values. What I write is not real love and not real sex, don't take it as a meassure of how real life works.

If you have a question, feel free to send an anonymus ask and I will answer to the best of my habilities. But don't take my fanfics as something that can be applied to reality. ALSO, don't display your age on your blog if you aren't an adult. Like I said, be careful on the internet.

I don't consider my blog to be a safe space where you should be exploring, but I can't stop you. Lord knows I started reading +18 content at a young age.

Be aware that some of the pairings I like are incestuous in nature. No, I am not attracted to people that way. Hell, I'm barely attracted to people in real life having like 2 crushes in 4-ish years...???

Anyway, why do I ship them if this is morally wrong?

Because characters are object, not people.

I can do what I like with my imagination, again, this is fantasy and fiction.

For me to ship something it's because it makes sense for me. Maybe I saw something in the narrative or the story that I felt encouraged me to ship a pairing.

That being said:

Morality police isn't welcome here.

Ignore or block me, if you are uncomfortable.

☆ A B O U T M E

She/Her

Level 29

Latina

I'm a sun sag, ascendent sag and moon gemini

I'm aegosexual so Happy Ace Week! (if it's the 3rd week of October)

My favorite drink is hot Chai

☆ S O C I A L S

AO3

Fanfiction.net

☆ S E C O N D A R Y B L O G S

NejiHina Archive

Peculiar considerations for atonement

☆ W O R K I N G O N

Part 1: published!!!

Part 2: published!!

Part 3: May 10th

Part 4: May 17th

Spanish Translations

I will be translating 2 of my own fics into spanish those being:

Peculiar Considerations for Atonemente

A drop is not enough

Another Author's Project!

☆ M A S T E R P O S T S

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ShiningStarDan - Wips

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☆ F I C T A G S

Fanfic: Peculiar Considerations For Atonement

☆ P E R M I S S I O N S T A T E M E N T

Hi! so here is my policy:

Ask permission for:

Translating my fics to other languages (I do my own translations for english and spanish).

Recording podfics.

No need to ask permission for:

Making fanarts

Companion or reimagining fics

Other inspiration works

Big No-nos:

Reposting my works to other sites and accounts under any circumstances, I manage my own works.

Thanks!

Enjoy!

#about myself #ShiningStarDan #writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writerblr #writing community #fanfic writers #fanfic writer #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #fic writing #fanfiction writing #beta reader

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devils-dares · 1 year

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You can delete this if it's offensive, but I was wondering if you could explain how you as a disabled person feels about the portrayal of comic!Matt, specifically in Zdarsky's run. I want to know if there's anything you have that you like/dislike about it, thanks!

hoo boy, okay. well first of all thanks for understanding that talking about disabilities is uncomfortable for some people. i can give you my personal insights. just to preface: i don't have a disability that messes with my senses (sight, hearing, taste, feeling, smell) so i can't approach this question with that angle, however my disability affects a major life activity, which for me is walking.

i'd also highly recommend checking out @briefcasejuice and @mattmurdockspainkink for their takes on comic!matt (highly recommend this piece by ren)

so for me, one big issue i have personally with being disabled and how that information is taken in by others is that it can truly limit my autonomy/make people infantalize me. because my flare ups reduce my ability to function as a human being so much, oftentimes i'll be seen as a child or someone who is helpless, when i am very clearly not. i'd like to think i'm self sufficient, and infantilization of people with disabilities is just humiliating honestly. it's also hard for people to believe that disabled people can be morally wrong?? i've noticed that in a lot of experiences with myself and other people who've never met me before. purity and disability do not go hand and hand, and that is heavily played into the part with the whole infantilism thing.

this is interpreted as a trait that's righteous in matt's core, whether it be through his upbringing or his religious values, but oftentimes the weight of the words feel fake, because almost everytime you see one of these instances where matt's "traits" are involved, either he does opposite of his character development (but we aren't here for that side of zdarsky) or he's with a woman. in this specific run, he's with elektra for obvious reasons, but it feels like elektra is written in such a way that it makes matt feel weak, his decision making childlike, no control over his executive functions, and that's what pisses me off as a disabled person.

there was a lot of hope in vol 6 issue 1 with the whole "don't make my disability your fetish" line or whatever and that got me real excited to read because i wanted to see matt stick up for himself and just be able to, as cliché as it sounds, be himself for once. almost every single cemented iteration of disability in pop culture has a negative connotation, and although i'm not saying that disabilities are fun, you can only shit on them so much (trust me i know). instead we get this baby-man who is stripped of his autonomy whenever he's in a twenty foot radius of a singular woman.

matt's always described as a morally pure person, a good human being, couldn't hurt a fly. it plays into the stereotype that disabled people can't do much for themselves. just because i can't walk some of the time doesn't mean i have the decision making and morality of a four year old, same with matt. he's arguably actually a bad person. he's pretty shitty in the comics honestly, specifically in zdarsky's run. i get that being unassuming is his whole schtick, but holy fuck dude that's not his whole character.

i know that this daredevil, especially with the adventures he's on right now, is meant to be fantastical, and at the end of the day he's a fictional superhero, but god, i'd give anything for an issue of just matt being exhausted. yeah, he's high functioning, but at the base of his character, he's a middle-aged blind lawyer. tell me that doesn't reek of exhaustion.

thanks for asking this question!!

#dev talks #matt murdock #comic!matt murdock #ask me more questions like these i like talking about it!!

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lesbianyosano · 1 year

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what do you think bsd is trying to say about war? do you have any other thoughts about political themes present in the story?

oh i have,,, thoughts,, for sure. also these are more loose threads that have been floating around in my head more than a concrete thesis so sorry if they dont make much sense as a whole

one thing i think is crucial to discussing bsd as a political story is to look at which countries' authors asagiri choses to include in the story.

obviously the main cast is japanese, but the other prominent characters come from usa and russia, and if you also take in characters from the light novels or ones, who have been foreshadowed to be important (like agatha), france and the uk come to mind. those are all states with imperialist past/present, and while there are none morally pure countries this specific selection is still pretty intense all things considered. many of the authors included in bsd were also involved politically one way or another (most had been active during the first half of the 20th century, and wrote about war one way or another)

the imperialism isnt really touched upon, unfortunately so, but ( and maybe this is just me being hopeful) i like to think its less about asagiri not seeing it and more about him not wanting to open another sensitive topic in an already complicated work of fiction.

ultimately i'd say bsd is anti-war. that's the most prevailing political theme, and one that has been slowly revealing itself and becoming more prominent the further we go into the story. worth noting is how elements that could've (and maybe should have) been shown as explicitly political avoided this framing in earlier parts of the story (fukuzawa's old profession, kunikida's ideals), but ig there's still time for that. the anti-war sentiment ties back to a lot of the works that the abilities are named after, esp in the agency. no longer human, thou shalt not die, the makioka sisters (tanizaki's light snow) are all prime examples (and kunikida's ability could technically be put under this too depending on how you look at it, since his war journalism is what made him a prominent literary figure). even if some of the authors had some questionable opinion's irl, the parts that asagiri choses to include always come back to the horrors of war.

decay of angels is another thing, given it's named after mishima's last novel, one that he left to his publisher on the same day he started a coup trying to restore the emperor of japan and commited seppuku. there was a theory i saw a while back that said bram wasnt actually a doa member, and the 5th person is yet to be revealed, and it'd be really interesting if we got mishima in bsd but he's still to this day a pretty polarizing figure (understandably so) and im not sure if asagiri would want to take that step, since it'd be a point of no return in terms of explicit politics in the story. and he's been pretty timid with that i mean look at the way he handles police brutality (cops in yokohama being portrayed as incompetent yet ultimately good people, jouno going from prime example of someone knowingly abusing their power to apparently caring abt the innocents, and this is obv a different, more complicated topic so uhh idk maybe ill talk abt it some other time adgsfgagd). idk it just seems like he's afraid to really push the ideas forwards, keeps them palatable to the general public although idk if this is a concious choice or not. im willing to give asagiri the benefit of the doubt bc of how he handles fukuchi though. people hate him bc??? idk he's not a twink and he killed someone ig but personally i adore him, goofy aah guy imo. it'd be easy to write him off as just an autoritarian crazy guy who wants to take control of the world for unspecified "greater good" but the arguments he makes are generally pretty compelling! and not just to readers, we see atsushi questioning the way world works and government's role after listening to fukuchi explain himself. its fukuchi's methods that are questionable not the ultimate goal of state abolition. and we still dont really know what his ultimate reason for doing all this is, just that he claims it's not revenge on fukuzawa, so im curious how this is going to get handled.

and the last thing is the brief anticapitalism theme in the guild arc but again, its like asagiri gave up on it before it became too prominent. fitzgerald is the ultimate capitalist and we see this esp in relation to steinbeck, whose dislikes list finansists in the enligh translation and capitalists in the polish one (no idea what is listed in japanese exactly). but fitzgerald is ultimately sort of redemed, with his (and poe's) wealth treated as a gag rather than a human rights violation

those are all the things that have been ping ponging around in my head and i hope this is in any way at least a little bit understandable. there are some things here that deserve a post of their own but id have to reread at least the last few arcs to talk about them in depth.

#also sorry this took so long i need to get better at answering things #theres still one more thing in my ask box thats been there for so so long god #ask #i should. try to reread stuff abt fitzgerald and jouno...

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queer-rhetorics · 3 months

Text

The Lesbian Fantastic, Pt. 1

I found this book by Phyllis M. Betz on a display in my schools library - the full title is The Lesbian Fantastic: A Critical Study of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Paranormal, and Gothic Writings. It seemed perfect, especially after I read the "Queer Rhetorics" web page last week, which talked about Pathos (or, the ZAP!). Fiction is, after all, pure pathos.

The first half of this book focuses heavily on the histories and methods of the genres in the title in general, as well as some notes on how lesbians have used these genres, but I suspect we will have more focus on how lesbians specifically use them in the second half of the book.

It seems Betz is referring to these genres broadly as "fantasy", and a defining feature of these genres is that they must evoke some sense of wonder for the reader. This is flexible, depending on the specific gerne - gothic lit, for example, might evoke feelings of horror. The other shared trait among these genres is that they tend to subvert the status quo presented at the beginning of the narrative. However, this is usually in the form of overthrowing a tyrannical regime or something similar - not in the form of flaunting social/cultural structures.

Gothic Fiction

Gothic fiction plays heavily with awareness of things outside the Self, and the desire to seek out fear. It usually plays on various social anxieties, as well as shifting questions of identity for the main character. It is often thought of as a women's tradition, since many of its early authors were women. Common figures are the ghost or the monster, and there are often themes of sanity/insanity, fears surrounding the body. There is often a tension between fear and desire.

Lesbian gothic writers have been very aware of their position in society as outside and their associations with evil, particularly with vampires. While usually these monsters may be killed/destroyed, in lesbian texts the monster often connects with another character. The lesbian ghost/monster deliberately situates itself out of social norms. Evil seduction suddenly becomes mutual.

Fantasy Literature

The allure of the fantasy text is its ability to provide the reader with a feeling of wonder and amazement. The bending of the laws of our nature is expected. They often have a religious or moral foundation. It is typically considered a male genre, although more women have been writing fantasy since the mid-60s.

Lesbian fantasy fiction often reframes heroism to be about more than physical strength or magical ability. There is more emphasis on the heroine coming to terms with her sexuality, and she is usually rewarded with a romantic relationship. She leaves the story with a clearer vision of herself and her society. The society or world is reimagined in the heroine's ability to balance typically masculine/feminine abilities and behaviors.

Science Fiction

The attractice power of science fiction is often the "vision of potentiality". The are often somewhat grounded in facts, although they can be extremely speculative. This genre is also often typically thought of as male, especially when thinking about the more pedantic areas of the related fandoms. There is a heavy focus on humanity and the Other. The Other, usually in the form of alien races, can be stereotyped and lesser, or they can be seen as a superior race. Female characters are often used to symbolize the alien.

Lesbian science fiction, interestingly enough, often have a focus on gay males, although of course there are those who focus on lesbians. Highlighting sexuality allows these authors to focus on that dimension in their explorations of Otherness. Many of these stories take place in societies that still have strong patriarchal tendencies, although women are usually allowed in positions of leadership and the like. They also often include a romantic plotline. Many of these relationships include a human and an alien, altering what it means to be considered "alien". (On a personal note, this seems quite similar to how monsters/vampires/etc. are used in lesbian Gothic fiction)

Early Lesbian Fantasy Fiction (19th and 20th century)

There is some difficulty in picking out exactly what counts as lesbian fiction, since by necessity many authors had to code or tone down the relationships between their characters. However, from what we have seen, there are commonalities. Gothic fiction allowed women to describe restrictions they face and voice desires that were thought of as socially unacceptable. There is often a balance in these stories between physical and emotional desire. There is more difficulty still for fantasy/sci-fi texts, perhaps because of fantasy being thought of as a children's genre, making it difficult for women to write about any type of sexual awareness. However, these genres still did allow women to explore things they wouldn't have otherwise. By framing them as otherwordly and detached from reality, they could, for lack of a better term, get away with more than they could otherwise.

Questions/Ponderings

Now that the history has been gone over, I'm excited to read about more specific examples rather than talking in broad strokes to build a general overview, as well as hopefully getting into some more modern examples. So far, I'm wondering about the efficacy of fiction to change reality. No matter what, it has an importance in that these women were able to express their identities, and their readers were able to connect with them. Still, I wonder if this book will touch on controversy sparked by these novels in real life in the coming chapters.

At the moment, that's about as specific as my questions can get - my head is sort of spinning with literary history facts at the moment.

#lesbians #sapphic #lgbtq+#literature #fantasy #scifi #gothic #academia #foucault #queer rhetorics #queer theory

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mixelation · 2 years

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Worst fandom takes: Itachi had more agency and responsibility for his crimes at thirteen than Orochimaru did for his crimes at thirty/forty-something.

Congratulations, this ask aged me by about ten years and made me go into my 2012-era reaction gif folder.

12/10 for how tired this take makes me, but... hm... 8/10 for rancid. Mostly I won't give it full rancid points because usually the "Orochimaru was just MANIPULATED by _____ factors!" crowd isn't like.... actively arguing what he did was okay (although they're like two steps away from this argument)? Nor do the weird "Itachi should have done XYZ!" people argue murdering children is okay. So I will not give full points.

But jfc, fandom. Why? The narrative does fucking backflips to make the Uchiha Massacre other people's responsibility in addition to Itachi's, and while I won't make the argument he was doing the best possible actions wrt to it, I don't think the story makes sense if Itachi thinks he has other options. He was thirteen, he was taught complete obedience to authority figures, and he was taught violence and murder are acceptable, viable solutions even if he personally doesn't like it. He was told "if you don't stop this, there WILL be a civil war" and "the solutions are either you kill everyone but your brother, or we'll kill everyone AND your brother." Does he hold responsibility for agreeing to murder? Yes. Were there other players actively pushing, supporting, commanding a thirteen year old to do this? ALSO YES, JFC

But, given how some Itachi stans want him to be a 100% morally pure uwu bean, I can kind of see why a person might get frustrated by that and push for Itachi having more culpability than the manga ultimately gave him. Like, the whole situation was deeply fucked up, and I do agree it's weird to completely absolve Itachi of it... especially given every other decision he makes about Sasuke afterwards. (What the FUCK, Itachi?) So while I am tired by less than nuanced takes on Itachi, this isn't driving the high rancid score.

But I do NOT get the fandom push to absolve Orochimaru of planning and then carrying out secret child experimentation projects, and then continuing them in Oto. Like, okay, you want Danzo to also be in on it because life is easier if there's one clear villain guy driving everything, alright. But do you really think Orochimaru, a full grown man and master manipulator, is somehow being brainwashed into.... doing something he genuinely seems interested in doing, and continues to do for the rest of the series? Like, at BEST, maybe Danzo was promising him he'd have support from above for ignoring the normal ethical standards. Orochimaru still chose to experiment on and murder children. You can argue he's Like This due to past trauma, sure, but other people had shitty childhoods and they don't murder children. Come on. The sorts of moral contortions you have to make to go "oh yeah, a full grown man wasn't at fault at all for things he literally planned and carried out while in a right state of mind--" is just exhausting. Also, by denying his responsibility for his own actions, you are just making him a less interesting character. Can we not do this?

Also god forbid you think both things at once. "Thirteen year olds should know better than to listen to the ninja president, but a full grown man should be able to have a hissy fit and murder children when his sensei is sort of mean to him." Actually, full 10/10 rancid if you're trying to argue both things at once, fandom. Please just admit you like one character and dislike another rather than twist yourself up in a pretzel trying to argue one is morally fine and the other is a moral failure.

EDIT: To clarify that last point, it is totally normal for the internal logic of your feelings on fictional people to be inconsistent. I definitely have characters I like because they're fucked up little guys and character I don't like because they're fucked up little guys, where the difference is shit like "one is FUN about it and the other isn't" or "one is pretty." But I think think if, in the same breath, you try to make a moral argument about two characters at once... please admit your standards are inconsistent because you like one more than the other (totally fair; I do this too), rather than trying to argue something that doesn't make sense and potentially just makes you go "children can't be manipulated but full grown men can :("

#ask meme answer #uh general disclaimer that you are allowed to disagree with me on things lmao #this are fictional people and we're debating fictional actions here

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vitos-ordination-song · 10 months

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I’m having one of those Nobody Gets It moments with the Xenogenesis series. I’ve seen people discuss how paternalistic the Oankali are, but no one has talked about the narrative purpose of this, beyond a narrow reading of how it relates to real-world oppression. People are only capable of identifying with the human victimization angle, when Xenogenesis is one of the best works I’ve science fiction I’ve read for how it complicates that classic narrative.

This isn’t the only way the series can be seen, but I think you CANNOT have a good discussion about the story without seeing the Oankali as a purposeful tool that Butler used to reflect on the failures of humanity.

She was concerned about nuclear war, and its deeper cause, the human tendency toward hierarchy, made supremely destructive when combined with our intelligence. That was a worry Butler had that she gave to the Oankali. They have to save humanity from its own self-destructiveness. Their paternalism is, at least in part, a reaction to our flaws. Through the Oankali, two of humanity’s biggest problems are solved: the tendency towards hierarchy and aggression, particularly male aggression.

Reading the series purely in those terms, Xenogenesis is basically a more complicated version of The Day the Earth Stood Still, or Childhood’s End. The aliens were too late to stop us from blowing ourselves up, so it’s back to the nursery for humanity. The species has proven itself irresponsible and until it learns responsibility, it’s going to have to listen to Nanny Oankali.

The story isn’t that simple, of course. Lilith is the embodiment of the unfairness of this arrangement. She leads humanity’s rebirth because of her own strong desire to live, but she wasn’t the one who decided to blow anyone up. Butler points out that the nuclear war happened in the northern hemisphere and most of the survivors are from South America, South Asia, Africa, and Australia. But the Oankali don’t base their assessment on the individual; it’s all in the genes for them. The scariest thing is that they’re almost always right…

Although the books have a complicated morality, and the Oankali are at least as benevolent as they are sinister, what they did is still unjust, and that’s why Adulthood Rites was written. However, Butler provided no answer as to whether the Oankali were right. She really dared to put it out there: the idea that we may be a fundamentally flawed species.

On the other hand, as much as the Oankali talked about the human contradiction, they are an equally contradictory species. There are plenty of things about them which could be called flawed… Only none of those flaws are bad for their survival. In fact, in terms of sheer biology, they are the closest thing to a perfect species it’s possible to imagine. Thus, their paternalism is also just a result of them having a natural advantage. Because they’ve achieved such omnipotence, it’s easy for them to justify themselves, and their abilities even allow them to make things “pleasurable” for their targets.

When I was reading the books, I kept having this horrible sense that the Oankali were right about things, but also completely out of touch with deeper, more core issues. They have no regard for consent, because they think, if they are “doing no harm” in the literal sense, then whatever they do is fine. If our human biology causes us to behave violently, their Oankali biology causes them to leech off of and use everything they come into contact with. They have absolutely no boundaries, meaning they throw in their lot with their symbionts, but also that they colonize them. They enrich, but alter, the life they encounter, and this in turn works to their own benefit.

I think the Oankali failed thoroughly to get the humans to cooperate in Dawn, but equally, the humans show themselves to be stupid, ignorant brutes in the face of the graceful and merciful Oankali. Lilith frequently assumes the Oankali will behave in a way consistent with the violent, hierarchical humans, but they don’t. What they do is, in a way, not as bad, but is highly humiliating, invasive, and disrespectful. On top of that, they force closeness and give pleasure until resistance is barely an option. Lilith behaves admirably and understandably, but she never regains full agency; she symbolizes the best of humanity being lumped in with the rest. But her desire to live is what allows all of life, human and Oankali, to continue.

After the degradation of humanity in the first novel, the reader is likely to feel negatively about the Oankali. The second book introduces Akin, who is very Oankali. In fact, since his difference has made him a target of human scrutiny and possible violence since he was an infant, he identifies more with the Oankali side of him. So the audience begins to identify with and understand the Oankali better through Akin. Following this, the reader experiences the development of Akin’s identification with his human side. With advice from his mother, he helps to set her free, along with the rest of humanity. Butler skillfully uses Akin’s arc to argue that even if humanity sucks a lot of the time, it deserves to try to go on existing, no matter what doom the Oankali speak over it.

However. Nothing is simple with this book series. The only reason Akin comes to the conclusion that humans deserve life and is able to fight for them is that he is also Oankali. His Oankali nature allowed him to sympathize with the humans, more than his humanity. He observed the humans and wanted to prevent their suffering, no matter what they did to him. That is an Oankali trait, by no means one inherent to humans. Akin is treated HORRIBLY by almost every human he meets outside Oankali territory.

The only reason he was even left with the humans for a long period is that the Oankali sacrificed him to them so he could observe them. The Oankali were surprised by his conclusion, but they had wanted to know more about human resisters in the first place. Then Akin is able to convince them to help him—they’re not unreasonable and come to understand the moral argument he’s making. They don’t actually oppose individual autonomy; again to return to their contradiction and biology, they have to join with other species for their own survival. Humans were wiped out in huge numbers and they were only able to save a small percentage of the population. Things would have been different without the war—they could have done the trade differently. As it was, they had to mate with a bunch of traumatized, xenophobic, unhappy captive humans. It may not be morally right, but it’s certainly logical.

Adulthood Rites offers some solace, with Akin ultimately being embraced by humans who have recognized his personhood and acknowledged that he not only means no harm but is trying to help them, no strings attached. And perhaps, looking at the biological angle, the fact that he wasn’t programmed to have mates and bond might be part of that—he’s more able to care about consent, less tied down. His development shaped him too—during the crucial times when he was meant to be bonding with his family, he spent all his time with humans. Ironically this is what caused him to end up looking so Oankali…

Imago brings things full circle, but it presents a scarier seduction than the one in Dawn. The human Ooloi are even more powerful; the Oankali, by joining with humans, have reached new heights of omnipotence. They share that omnipotence with their part-human offspring, but there’s something real about that scene towards the end of the book, when one of the elder humans is so overwhelmed by the Oolois’ power that he damns them while not being able to stop loving them. There’s a sense that, for humans who end up sticking with the Oankali, there will always be some neurosis lurking underneath the surface. Neurosis caused by deeply buried resentment. The Oankali seem to view this as an illness to be cured—that’s one of my least favorite of their traits, just coming over and drugging someone if they’re “too upset,” even if that Oankali is the cause of the distress in the first place. Equally disturbing is how the human Ooloi are able to become sexually appealing to humans, “normal looking,” thus exponentially increasing their ability to entrap others into unbreakable, lifelong sexual bonds.

Still, the books aren’t hopeless. No one wants to envision all life on earth being stripped away, becoming a part of the Oankali worlds. And yet, all of life on earth will one day cease when the sun explodes. Through the Oankali, it’s possible to live as close to forever as possible. They help anything they come in contact with to live up to its full potential. If I, as a human, joined with the Oankali, I would have a long life and live extremely well. I would have many kids, but not as some kind of breeding stock—as part of a family. All my births would be easy and successful. I wouldn’t be in pain or get sick, many of the world’s problems would be solved for me, I could do most of what I wanted, and I would be considered valuable beyond belief. I wouldn’t be able to have normal sex (lol) but I could have awesome alien sex whenever I want it. The only thing I really worry about is getting bored; I’m not sure if I want 100 kids and to live 300 years. I feel like humans can offer a lot to the Oankali, like hobbies. Maybe we could infect them with our frivolities. They seem pretty contented to just gather biological data forever, but I think the Oankali need to listen to some kickass music and smoke weed. Maybe if they did they’d be less scary. Genuinely that passage with Akin watching Gabe perform King Leer was so good… If the Oankali don’t start doing arts and crafts I riot.

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mollytatlisu · 1 year

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Gothic Literature & the Victorian Era

Alongside the 19th century revamp of gothic architecture that I previously discussed, was the birth of some pretty influential literature that contributed heavily to the goth movement. This fiction / literature spout took place in the Victorian era of England; with the corrupt societal norms of this time being a huge factor in its development.

Gothic Literature is defined by fiction that typically explores themes of life & death, romance and the supernatural conjouring up intense emotion, with the novels being set somewhere gloomy and mysterious; coupling the eerie story lines with cynically picturesque backdrops. Gothic literature was first coined gothic by Horace Walpole in 1764 in his “gothic story” the castle of otranto; in which he used the term to communicate the barbaric nature of his novel; taking influence from the Middle Ages, the Roman Empire and its architecture as a result. Although this was almost a joke to begin with and didn’t particularly kickstart the gothic literature period; fast forward to the 19th century and gothic novels were appearing left right and centre, with some of the most famous examples being Bram Stokers 1897 novel Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein which she wrote in 1818, and 1886s Jekyll and Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. The gothic style of literature gave 19th century writers an outlet to explore taboo themes such as sexuality, race, religion and the repression that came along with these; that was particularly prominent in the Victorian time period.

The Victorian era was a time of many advancements such as the industrial revolution and Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution; but along with this came other scientific theories that caused harsh moral and social implications; particularly for women living in the patriarchal society at the time. Scientists began to make a link between a reduced amount of sperm causing a reduced amount of blood; which was believed to cause not only physical illness but a sense of lack of moral sanity. This theory “sanguine economy” in turn lead to sexual drive and intercourse being viewed as immoral and evil; placing men and women in strict gender roles in which women should have no sexual desires. The corrupt state of Victorian society was reflected heavily in gothic literature; with everyone’s new found fear of the unknown due to all these daunting theories popping up being demonstrated meticulously throughout the novel Dracula.

Draculas author Bram Stoker challenges societal expectations and the roles that were allocated to men and women; fully addressing the taboo topics of this time period, by portraying his characters in ways that were unfamiliar, abnormal or wrong to his audience. For example the first 3 women that are introduced in the book known as “the weird sisters” that Jonathon encounters at the beginning of the novel at his stay at Draculas Castle; are a symbol of female sexuality; demonstrated by his line “there was something about them that made me uneasy … i felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips”. Here stoker begins to dissolve the idea that women are not of a sexual nature, which is furthered by Jonathon actually expressing his desire to be penetrated by the weird sisters. The gender rules society had been brainwashed with also created a stigma around homosexuality; and the pure thought of these gender roles being reversed was complete madness to Victorians; which Stoker almost scrutinises during this passage. Not only does this novel tackle sexuality; but it also references the religious fears held by Victorian society; that stem from the idea of being able to be “sexually impure”. Those that would “waste” sperm through sexual acts would be described in religious passages as “the pale bodied” and having “pale countenance” . These phrases combined with “bloodless body” create a link between Draculas pale complexion and his thirst for blood and the intense sexual desire of victorians; but the difference is Dracula would sucombe to his urges; almost encouraging victorians to do the same.

In conclusion, the novel and Count Dracula himself is a metaphor for societies anxieties in this era such as sexuality and religion, which as pointed out by Radcliffe (Unknown Year) are still fears that exist in western society today. This research has really reinforced to me how the term gothic is used all the way throughout history; and helping me begin to understand what has informed goth today; for example their overt approach to sexuality. Although this novel is just one example; all other examples of gothic literature follow the same narrative in which they tackle time relevant taboo topics; such as Jekyll and Hyde in which Stevenson explores the implications of repressing and disguising sexual desires, many of which are still relevant and can be applied to today. Conducting this research has also given me a potential article idea, as i particularly enjoyed looking at Dracula; im considering writing an article that delves into its theme of sexuality further and also links it to the approach to sexuality in the gothic periods that came after the Victorian era such as the 1980s.

Not only was Victorian period significant in relation to the goth subculture because of its literature but its fashion was quite the influence too, particularly their mourning attire. Due to the high mortality rate throughout the Victorian period death was an ever present thing; so they utilised the way they dressed as a way of expressing their sadness. This way of dressing was representative of an outward expression of emotion fitting perfectly with the romantic period which gained its name because of how its writers were able to conjure intense emotions through their writing.

As you can see here there are clear links between victorian mourning attire and elements of goth fashion; corsets for example; as well as the engrained theme of the colour black.

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xtruss · 2 years

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Page-Turner: The Cute and Horrifying World of Jim Woodring

In “One Beautiful Spring Day,” the cartoonist takes his orders from the imaginary world that he creates.

— By Sam Thielman | August 9, 2022

“I don’t trust my mind for everyday thinking,” Woodring writes.Photograph by RL Rejmaniack/Courtesy Fantagraphics Books

“Where do you get your ideas?” is a question that most authors dread. The cartoonist Jim Woodring has a simple answer, although it’s likely to elicit more and stranger questions. Woodring has published four book-length comics and an enormous collection of short stories that follow the distressing adventures of his hero, a woodland creature called Frank, who lives in a dreamlike world filled with deserts, forests, minareted castles, hot-air balloons, a devil, and the occasional cylindrical chicken. Woodring calls this place the Unifactor, and says that it tells him what to draw, and how. The Unifactor allows him to draw and write about it only in a certain way; if he tries to go against its instructions, the Unifactor may interfere or abandon him. The process is painful, but its results are unique—the Frank stories are both utterly foreign and purely lucid, a set of gnomic parables that always end in a puff of irony or ambiguity. They leave behind not broad moral lessons but the harsh laws and uncrossable boundaries that apply only in a fictional world unlike any other.

In Woodring’s huge new graphic novel, “One Beautiful Spring Day,” each panel is drawn in a style that looks like an eccentric woodcut. The figures are outlined in clean, straight, black lines, but Woodring has hatched in the shadows with a series of perfectly parallel, shallow waves that vary in thickness. Their amplitude, however, never changes—it’s the frequency at which the Unifactor seems to vibrate. The effect is something like Doré meets Dalí: stories of pure dream logic rendered as reverently as an etching of the infant Christ. Every surface emits a kind of otherworldly specificity, both resoundingly weird and as reassuringly solid as a drafting table.

Frank himself could easily be a habitué of an old Max Fleischer cartoon—a cousin to Bimbo the Dog, perhaps—with his rubbery black limbs, white gloves and shoes, and cute, bestial, species-nonspecific features. In personality, Frank is generally childlike, but without parents to keep him in check. If there is a button, he will push it. If there is a vase, he will break it, sometimes by accident, but not always. If something looks good to eat, Frank will at least try a bite. He first appeared in 1991, in the second and final issue of Mark Landman’s anthology comic “Buzz,” alongside strips by the caricaturist Drew Friedman and by Charles Burns, the author of “Black Hole” (and, briefly, an MTV darling). Landman asked Woodring to produce “a comic that looks normal, but isn’t.” Woodring drew “Frank and Manhog,” a silly, queasy story based on a corny joke: Frank, finding part of a worm in his apple, is so devastated by the experience that he builds a statue of the half-eaten creature.

Woodring seems to enjoy baiting the reader’s suspicion that he is compelled against his will to draw Frank, and this heightens the corresponding sense that the Unifactor somehow exists, whether or not it defies laws of physics and logic. In one especially gruesome tale, Woodring writes narrative captions under the panels—an unusual tic in the mostly wordless Frank stories—but, before the action has gone on for more than a few pages, the narrator finds the events of the story so upsetting that he decides to talk about something else. “I wonder how many grains of rice there are in a fifty pound sack,” he muses, as Frank’s occasional nemesis, Manhog, whom Woodring has said is based on his father, flays his leg and daubs silver paint on the exposed gore.

Frank himself often seems confused by the caprice of the world around him, which frequently punishes him for breaking its rules. Frank has two pets, Pushpaw and Pupshaw, who look like the fraternal-twin offspring of a dachshund and a footstool. Although they tend to understand the laws of the Unifactor a little better than their master, the three of them have endured a number of bewilderingly violent escapades, often involving flying, symmetrical creatures who seem to be made out of a sort of flexible pottery. Woodring, who admires Hinduism, calls these beings “jivas,” jiva being the Sanskrit word for “living substance,” or soul, in Hinduism and Jainism; they often grow more complex as Frank beholds them, developing organic-looking flanges and frills and bulges until they overwhelm and chase him. But they are also a part of Frank and his neighbors—occasionally, Frank himself will hit his head so hard that one of them flies out of the wound, like Daffy Duck’s ghost might in a Looney Tunes short. Only Frank and Manhog seem truly disturbed by the jivas and their kin. (Some Unifactor denizens seem to be jivas themselves; others contain them; still others look distantly related to them.) Everyone else, including Frank’s pets, has some sort of commerce with them, often including strange and beautifully inventive magical powers.

In structure, Frank’s escapades have a sort of mathematical precision. The status quo must always be reëstablished at the end of each story, and Frank must never learn anything. (Occasionally, Frank dies.) “One Beautiful Spring Day” is four hundred pages long, a series of narrative nesting dolls that begins and ends on more or less the same note, but with a symphony of uncanny menace in between.

Art work by Jim Woodring /Courtesy Fantagraphics Books

Since he was three or four years old, Woodring has hallucinated. “I’d be lying in bed and I’d see large, silent, rotating faces hovering over the foot of my bed, faces that were very cartoony, actually,” he told The Comics Journal, in 1993. “Big, horrible, grimacing, deeply-lined faces with their mouths open, yelling at me silently, moving their mouths rapidly.” By his own estimation, Woodring has painted one hallucination in particular hundreds of times: “a large, bulbous, rubbery-looking froglike creature,” as he describes it in the introduction to “Jim,” a collection of his early work. The creature first appeared before him in an art-history lecture during his not-quite-a-semester at Glendale Community College. Now it adorns the covers of a book of his charcoal drawings, “Seeing Things,” and several issues of his comics. “I don’t trust my mind for everyday thinking,” Woodring writes, in the introduction, “but I am convinced that it has one very great function, which is to eventually make me aware of astounding things.”

For as long as there has been art, artists have sought to depict astounding things and thus purge them from their troubled minds. Goya expressed his fear of madness through scenes of paranoia, terror, and supernatural persecution in the Black Paintings. In the lifelong depressive Walker Percy’s novel “Lancelot,” about a depressed murderer confined to a psychiatric hospital, the plot advances as his depression recedes, allowing him to recall his crimes. The Frank corpus, for its part, coheres in one hapless creature’s attempts to amuse himself in between horrifying encounters with monsters that are both unknowable and the building blocks of the world around him.

Woodring was the opposite of an overnight success. His family was poor, and his twenties were lost to alcoholism and occasional homelessness. By the early nineteen-eighties, though, his life stabilized: he had met his wife, Mary, and he was drawing storyboards for Ruby-Spears animation, where he worked on “Turbo Teen,” about a kid who turns into a car, and a “Mr. T.” cartoon. It was dreck, but down-at-heel genius was everywhere at Ruby-Spears: among his co-workers were Jack Kirby, who had brought “The Fantastic Four” and “Captain America” to life; Alex Toth, the prolific cartoonist, Hanna-Barbera designer, and Space Ghost creator; and the influential superhero artist Gil Kane, who introduced Woodring to the comic-book editor Gary Groth. The audience for Woodring’s work grew slowly—throughout the nineteen-nineties, his name appeared on paycheck gigs like the “Alien” and “Jabba the Hutt” comics—but his early devotees included Francis Ford Coppola, who wrote the introduction to “The Frank Book” in 1995, and the fellow-cartoonist (and New Yorker cover artist) Ivan Brunetti. “I look at your stuff and I get really depressed because I could never, ever, in a million trillion years do what you do with a brush and paper,” Brunetti wrote, in a fan letter published in Woodring’s “autojournal” comic book (also called “Jim”) that same year. (Woodring uses not a brush but a pen—sometimes a very large pen.)

Though a late bloomer, Woodring managed to avoid a dead-end career in corporate comics, and, by 2010, he’d reached wide acclaim, hadn’t had to write anything set on Tatooine or Dagobah in a while, and had published his first stand-alone book, a hundred-page Frank fable called “Weathercraft.” It was a longer, more complex story—Manhog is tortured by witches who extract his soul remotely, and he learns the true nature of the universe before being kicked back into his place by a satanic creature called the Whim—but it was classic Frank, which is to say, pure Unifactor, and it made several end-of-year lists.

In Woodring’s next book, “Congress of the Animals” (the first of three incorporated into “One Beautiful Spring Day”), Frank’s house falls down; he hires a builder to fix it, but can’t pay him, so he goes to work at a factory, where he must pour a slurry made of crushed-up birds into a machine that looks like a printing press—and then, every day, as he leaves work, he has to hand over his payment to the angry builder. (You could be forgiven for seeing some parallels to Woodring’s time at Ruby-Spears in these pages.) Frank escapes, and, at the end, meets Fran, apparently the female of his species. He has perky ears; hers are droopy and prehensile. He has a rounded tail; hers is pointy. He has chubby cheeks; she has a slightly heart-shaped face. (It’s remarkable how economically Woodring communicates nonhuman femininity; the panel where Fran first appears is viscerally shocking.) Fran changes Frank’s life for the better; they wake up in bed together, and seem to live happily ever after. Until this book, Frank’s pleasures had been carefully circumscribed—a delicious meal, or a ride on a dangerous contraption—but in “Congress of the Animals,” Woodring gave his avatar lasting happiness.

That simply wouldn’t do. In the lidless eye of the Unifactor, it seemed, Woodring was in error. He had planned to draw a graphic novel about Pushpaw and Pupshaw, called “Poochytown,” but he couldn’t—his muse had forsaken him, he said, and now he was obligated to draw “Fran,” in which Frank and Fran break up, and Fran is revealed to be something like a goddess. In this installment, she can now take many forms, not just that of a female Frank. She is more than a person but also, somehow, less—yet another vector of the terrifying and hallucinatory world around Frank, and not even a reliable companion, like Frank’s pets. When Woodring got around to drawing “Poochytown,” he redrew six pages of panels from “Congress of the Animals” in his careful style, with one disorienting difference: on the sixth page of “Poochytown,” Pupshaw opens a different box than the one he picked two books earlier. Woodring also fixed small flaws in parts of the copied pages, in an effort to get the vibe even closer to perfect—as pleasing to the Unifactor as possible. (It was, he told me in 2015, “a pain in the ass, ” but these were “the terms of my employment.”)

Art work by Jim Woodring /Courtesy Fantagraphics Books

For “One Beautiful Spring Day,” Woodring has added a fourth narrative layer and a new character, a travelling magician. The new book replaces and expands on “Congress of the Animals,” “Fran,” and “Poochytown,” adding exactly a hundred new pages of material. Whereas “The Frank Book” simply reprinted old stories, “One Beautiful Spring Day” weaves its component books together into a single dizzying tale: Frank’s momentary happiness with Fran is now one of several picaresque episodes, including an incident from “Poochytown” in which he happens across a steering wheel and a pedal that control the rotation of the planet. (He immediately wrecks it.)

Its repairs complete, Frank’s world—Woodring’s world, the Unifactor—remains ambiguous, ominous, and, more often than not, cute. But its ambiguity is now within the parameters that Woodring’s muse has set for him. Fran is gone by the end of the story. The magician makes most of the story disappear, as part of one of his tricks, then moves on, presumably to do the same to another citizen of the Unifactor. Like most of Woodring’s work, this twist is both charmingly eccentric and very sad. Woodring has become a monumental artist, but Frank can never change. He must always be the same odd little person who was horrified over the half-a-worm in his apple, three decades ago. “One Beautiful Spring Day” contains some of the most beautiful pages that Woodring has ever drawn, and some of the images, like the magician’s giant foot stepping into one vast double-page spread, are indelible. But the Unifactor has decreed that Frank himself may not grow at all. ♦

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inknopewetrust · 3 years

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Eden // Druig x Reader

Summary: The peace you’ve built is about to be disturbed.

Pairing: Druig x Eternal!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sex, fluff, impending battle, parallels to the Garden of Eden, spoilers for the film.

Quick Links: Masterlist // Request Guidelines

For centuries you lived in a bubble. A perfected bubble of community and gathering—a signature of his as war became fiction and peace became reality. However, it was that. A life spent in peace without conflict; a tale of love and harmony for the ages.

It was your Eden thanks to Druig.

Tenochtitlan had become a wasteland. The wrath of man overtaking an advanced civilization for a claim to be had; fires raging against the darkened skies–a sign of times changing. What was happening in front of your eyes would alter the course of the Eternals forever. The unit was fractured, split into pieces based on morality and loyalty.

Ajak promised a heaven to exist once the Deviants were destroyed and here you all were, at the precipice of your purpose to mankind, not truly believing that such a place could exist. Olympia was beginning to sound less and less like a real place and one of fiction. There was no home for all of you. You had to create that space for yourself. Everyone did. All of you had to create lives you could be content with, otherwise the complications of your duties would overtake everything else.

You had seen glimpses of it before. Small moments in time were pure, unbridled joy had eclipsed the thoughts of famine, war, and death. When Sersi and Ikaris solidified their union, Sprite fascinating crowds with her storytelling, Phastos inventing brilliant tools to help civilization thrive, and the first time you experienced love.

119 BCE - China

You weren’t sure how history would remember this era of Chinese history, but at the time, it felt majestic. A grand empire that was building upon industry and innovation that felt earth shattering. It was an era that everyone felt humanity was beginning to turn for the better. While wars still plagued from time to time and increasingly frequent crisis impacted limited amounts of people, it did not feel that there was a constant threat to their existence, so, Ajak settled the ten of you beyond a city into the rolling land of China where you could watch from a distance and draw away Deviants should they return. It had been twenty-five years since one had shown its face.

Although you were instructed to remain independent from human interference, the pleasures and wonders of their lives was increasingly difficult to separate.

Beyond the city and in the home Ajak had created for you all, night had fallen and the sounds of bamboo stems being lit and exploding were filling the air. Whatever was going on behind the city walls, it was a celebration. You had taken to sitting out in the grass trying to imagine what people were doing in their joy as the quiet residence remained void of such occasions.

Feeling the grass on your fingertips, the light swells of wind brushing your skin, the night was peaceful. It was one step closer to Eden.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Druig’s voice cut through the silence from the doorway about 8 feet away. You glanced over your shoulder to see him in a common black frock and a hint of smirk on his face. He always looked as though he was plotting some grand scheme of vengeance, yet he may have had the softest heart out of all of you.

“What do you think is going on behind there?” He took a seat on the ground next to you. Shoulders bumping your own, your heart beat twice as fast and your stomach filled with imaginary butterflies at the contact.

“A birthday, perhaps. Or a tribute to their Emperor. That seems most common these days.”

“What are they exploding?” You sensed a fear in him that within the celebration violence was taking place, but you knew exactly what they were doing. You had created it.

“Bamboo. They shouldn’t, but they are.”

Unlike Phastos, you did not create technology and unlike Sersi, you did not manipulate matter. You created it. New and old, adapting landscapes to help humanity grow based on the surrounding material they believed came natural to their region. Nothing was natural, though you created it to be.

“Does that upset you? That you give and they destroy?” Druig asked and you shook your head, gesturing to the land around you.

“I provide just as Phastos does. It is not my duty to feel sad when they take their resources and blow it up.” Druig did not truly believe you, though he needn’t press to understand that. It was something you shared—the ability to calculate the emotions of each other but knew when not to advance the topic further.

“It bothers me, you know.” He commented, turning away from your face to look at the barely lit wall in the distance. The light flames of fire glowing ember in the distance. “That one day everything we’ve helped build for them will be destroyed by their greed. It’s inevitable.”

“It’s not a good feeling, no.”

“And we are supposed to stand by and let conquerors kill the conquered for what?”

“Fairness is cruel, it is. Can we go against our purpose of creation because humanity has struck our hearts and minds? I doubt Ajak would allow us to do such a thing and if we went on our own, I imagine Ikaris would be pleased to end a traitor's life.”

Druig turned his head to yours again, watching as your eyes couldn’t be drawn to meet his own and your fingers plucked strands of uncomfortable grass from the ground only to be replenished in its place. He could feel that you were on the same level as him. That your minds were more connected than you both believed and your belief in your purpose was the same. You loved humanity, you both did. It was an innate reaction from spending so much time helping cultivate it from the sidelines. Druig’s hand worked subconsciously to grasp your own.

“If the time were to come, what would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“If Ajak let us go. What would you do? Where would you go?”

You didn’t need to think. Looking into his eyes, feeling his skin on yours, you knew the answer without even realizing it.

“Wherever you go. Our own haven. Our Eden.”

“We could have our own community. Something to build from nothing and people who do not fight wars.”

“Would you control them?”

There was an ethical conversation to be had at a later date. For now, the dreams of the future you could share were more than enough to quell the complicated feelings of your born instruction. A life together in complete peace where the world was perfectly in sync with the good in what life can provide.

“I cannot answer that, my love.” Your heart melted to pieces when he spoke to you like that. When he gazed at you with such adoration that you felt your purpose on earth wasn’t to be a protector from Deviants or a creator of unconscious life, but to be loved by Druig. “Whatever Eden we create; the most content I could ever be is with you beside me in peace.”

“Is it bad that I wish the day would come more soon?” A hypothetical day. A dream in the field beyond a great Chinese city where they celebrated lives lived and people loved. Druig brought your hand to his lips, kissing it softly on its back.

“We can dream it for as long as it takes to become real. But we have this for now, our love, that will sustain us until then.”

That day was the first day Druig had called what was happening between the two of you ‘love.’ It had simmered for a long while with forlorn glances and minute conversations about the world around you until it spiraled into something more. The frequency for many years with the Deviants around increased the risk everyone faced. Moments of terror drew the two of you closer when the team would reconvene with a sigh of relief that the Deviants hadn't taken one of you away. Glances that lingered too long, a hand that brushed your own. Those grew and grew to the point where they no longer could be contained.

"Take me to that place one day, Druig. Where we can live our lives in peace."

"I will. I promise you that I will."

You head fell to his shoulder, looking beyond to the city of mortal beings that did not need to worry of the difficulties of eternal life. How your purpose was tied to their success and the inability to truly protect them from the harm they can cause one another was a dire consequence of it.

Tenochtitlan brought that dream to life.

At the destruction of others, Druig was finally motivated to separate himself from the Eternals and with Ajak's permission, you knew it was time as well. The revelation that Mahd Wy'ry had overtaken Thena was startling and sent everyone into a sadden state of disbelief that the Deviants were gone, the risk of falling into a madden state was upon you, and your purpose was nearing completion.

When the fighting stopped and you walked hand and hand down the temple steps with Druig, it was the last time you would all be together. It would be centuries before you'd see any of them again but for a little while, that did not matter. Tucked away in the Amazon, you and Druig built a community that was completely self-sufficient and safe. No violence or hatred, no pressure from the outside world to bend to a higher power of political deviance.

You had the ability to create Eden. A sacred, beautiful place with a natural ability to release the pressure that centuries of fighting had done to the both of you. Your minds had not been subject to the same disease as Thena, but the memories were always present. The terror, the torture, the evil that humanity could produce. In the bubble, it was safe to talk about it. Druig understood better than anyone else and in the safety net of love, it was the greatest partnership you could ask for.

Beyond the hut you had grown to call home, you cultivated a garden full of plants that were not native to the landscape. It was a task to keep you busy, keep the plants alive while the others made food and clothing, shelter and kept resources from wearing thin. The peace came from the distant chatter of people, the laughter of children, the serene sounds of the forest moving with the wind. Trees that swayed from side to side with a bristling of their leaves.

You could breathe in and nothing felt heavy.

"These are blooming nicely."

"They take more water than the others. I won't plant them again because it seems like a waste."

You brushed off your hands, wiping the dirt on your loose pants and stood. Druig was carefully holding one leaf in between his thumb and index finger.

"You don't have to worry about the water."

"But I do and no matter what you say, I am always going to go with my gut when it comes to my plants."

"Your plants? I am pretty sure I helped with at least... at least this one here." Druig searched the small garden and pointed to a rose bush that hadn't yet bloomed. He smiled back at you when you let out a laugh and walked toward him.

"You did. And they are growing absolutely wonderfully."

Druig held out his hand for you to take, pulling you closer with a smile on his face as he was able to wrap his arms around you in the comfort of the space you created together. It was transparent happiness.

"Please tell me you've interrupted my gardening with lunch because I am famished."

"If I say yes will you stay inside with me for the rest of the day?" He quirked a mischievous brow, unable to contain the intent as he ran his hands up and down your back, squeezing your side to make you squirm.

"If you are implying what I think you are..." You did indeed squirm but resettled and gazed at him knowingly.

"And if I am?"

"Then yes, absolutely."

He let out a cheer of success and pecked your lips briefly before setting off to the hut. Seeing him like this, all... free and content, you knew it was what you had both been dreaming of that day in China. Following behind him, you closed the small gate to the garden and as you looked up, you swore something off in the distance moved.

It was that heart pounding, nervous feeling that rose within you without explanation as the vegetation moved in unnatural forms but after a moment, it stopped. Returning to a stillness that was most common during the early afternoon hours you were familiar with. Druig halted at the back door, waiting for you, calling out your name as you stared off hesitantly at the vast distance before you. Eventually, you responded.

"Hm? Sorry. I thought–" You thought about mentioning it but decided against it. The feeling lingered although the sight told you nothing more was there. "–never mind."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

And you joined him inside.

In several centuries, only one had come to your home. Ajak came nearly twenty years before calling out to her "college friends" that she had come baring gifts. Now, 'gifts' was a wind-chime made out of the antlers of an Elk but you appreciated the sentiment in the end. It hung from the ceiling of the huts porch and she had instructed Phastos to make it chime when a friend was near.

Twice it had chimed with no one else there. You recalled looking out at the common grounds to see no familiar face waiting for reunion, just locals who waved hello.

After you had redressed that afternoon and finally ate lunch, you heard those chimes. A swift, melodic repetition of the woodwinds coming together only to be separated and brought together again. You stood in the small kitchen with a banana half cut when Druig sensed it to. They were here, for real this time.

You never discussed what you would do if they all came knocking.

Friends from college.

"They're there." He spoke quietly, as though they would be able to hear the conversation through the thick walls of the hut.

"Yeah... they're here."

Druig got up from his stool and finished the contents of his drink, tightening the tie of his robe, and nodding his head to the door.

"What do you think it's about?" He asked you.

"Something bad, I'm sure."

"Is it ever anything good?" Even in this moment of impeding change, he offered a supportive smile. "I guess we couldn't stay in this paradise forever."

"It was a nice dream though."

"The best dream, my love. My beautiful, Y/n. We will see this paradise again."

Druig did not lie to you then, he would not lie to you now. You would see this place again–in a dream, in the flesh, when the world was in shambles or peace had finally become real. Whatever endgame your life was destined to, it would return to this home.

Druig opened the big, wooden doors to the hut and descended the stairs to where Ikaris, Sersi, Sprite, Kingo, Gilgamesh, Thena, and an unknown man with a camera pointed at him stood. You leaned up against a post beside the stairs and gazed over the faces of your family. A distant, unique family that came searching for the two of you.

"Welcome to Eden, my friends." You spoke aloud to them for the first time in centuries. "What evil have you brought here?"

Not Proofed. Apologizes for any errors atm. Thanks for reading! As always, any likes, reblogs, or comments are always encouraged :)

#eternals #marvels the eternals #the eternals #druig #druig x reader #druig x gender neutral reader #druig fanfic #druig x you #Druig x Makkari is still endgame but this is just self-indulgent #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #eternals fanfiction #jesus christ i hope chloe zhao never sees this

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very-grownup · 3 years

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Conventions of Fantasy Monarchs, Queens, and the Subversion Thereof

I think a lot about Megan Whalen Turner’s use of monarchy in her novels and how that compares to royalty as presented in children’s fantasy fiction (as well as adult fantasy fiction, although I think there has been a strong turn away from rulers as absolute moral arbiters in the past twenty-five years, maybe, in favour of portrayals that are not necessarily more nuanced or realistic but are certainly more corrupt and far from divine) and Turner as a feminist writer and how these two aspects of her writing are interlinked. The nature of her approach to her Queen’s Thief series, however, requires a finer focus to begin from the wide view. While other authors world build with brick and mortar, Turner’s books create their world through origami. Each book is a separate piece and is folded into the next.

In "The Thief", Turner starts by establishing the three kingdoms of the Little Peninsula: Sounis, Eddis, Attolia. King, Queen, Queen. Although “The Thief” is wholly Gen’s story, the King of Sounis appearing briefly at the beginning, the Queens of Attolia and Eddis appearing at the end, they are established as the powers that be, the decision makers, the three figures trying to maintain their country and their identity in balance with the martial and economic pressures from all out sides. We know little about any of the monarchs, beyond that Sounis is older and Eddis and Attolia are both young. That the young women are queens, not princesses, is immediately a quiet triumph, an eyeshiver of subverting the unquestioned status quo (you think now, as an adult, of all the uninterrogated eternal princesses in your media, the young women without fathers or with fathers specifically deceased, and the refusal to permit their ascension to an adult title).

Indeed, in “The Thief” it is impossible to envision them as princesses for they are not given names. This is not an oversight on Turner’s part, not a diminishment of their personhood or, at least, not a diminishment of personhood that is not considered part of the parcel of governance. The three monarchs are frequently referred to simply by the name of their country, even dispensing with King/Queen of [Country]. Of course this implies a degree of the individual as their country, their country as the embodiment of the individual, the placing of country before self which, in and of itself, calls on the typical mythos found coupled with a hereditary monarchy. But it also shapes the reader’s understanding of the dynamic between the three monarchs as equal. Queens instead of princesses is adult and the further step of country in lieu of title degenders them, allowing the reader to move beyond their expectations for these titles, these roles, based on previously consumed media or even an awareness of those monarchies which continue today.

It is easy to overlook these socially conditioned expectations; the woman who is a doctor but regularly addresses as “Ms.” without second thought versus the rudeness of anyone forgetting to address a man by his professional credentials. Turner lifts the reader away from expectations they may have for such archetypes as ‘king’ and ‘queen’ without any fanfare given for what she is doing.

Moving beyond the scope of the three monarchs, into the matter of Eddis and Attolia, the only female characters in "The Thief". When the women appear, Turner sets up a familiar feminine binary between the two queens. Eddis is ugly but kind. Attolia is beautiful but cruel. Subsequent books prevent this from being a reductive portrayal of women without invalidating the initial descriptors. Eddis is never described as particularly attractive, but in certain eyes she is beautiful, without it ever seeming like a case of a perceptive/quality man perceiving a non-traditional beauty. Her kindness is tempered, prevented from being a weakness as she makes hard, sometimes ruthless decisions in “The Queen of Attolia” and those decisions are not motivated by possessing greater kindness than Attolia. Instead, she is equal to Attolia in her fierce love and protection of her country and its people. Attolia, the supremely beautiful woman who is cruel, is not the beautiful but evil queen not because she is not truly cruel, but because her cruelness is an expression of her ruthlessness. It is not petty, this is not a governmental expression of a Madonna-Whore dichotomy. It is two women who are physically very different operating in very similar roles with identical goals.

The physical difference is not significant; it is fact.

The important difference, the real dichotomy, is not a question of which of these women is good and which is evil, which woman is ugly and which is beautiful, which woman is pure and which is corrupt. It is, in fact, not a reflection of the women at all, but a reflection of the society and men around them.

More than the other books, the complete understanding of how Turner has taken superficial expectations of kings and queens and the portrayal of two women who, by existing in the same text will always in some way be positioned against each other, is achieved in “The King of Attolia”. Not, as might initially be thought in “The Queen of Attolia” in which the Wicked Queen is given the history and explanation that Explains her; for once we understand why she is wicked, will her actions not seem more understandable and forgivable? Turner in fact says no, Attolia’s cruel acts remain cruel; the nightmare consequences of one particular action continue throughout the series in the form of literal nightmares. “The Queen of Attolia” also gives Attolia a stand-in for someone who appears to be filling the role the evil advisor who leads a good woman astray for his own power and gain in the form of Nahuseresh.

“The King of Attolia” has a protagonist who is not of the nobility and from his perspective the reader gains a deeper understanding for how Attolia the country has been affected by Attolia the queen, the disruption of tradition rippling out to a disruption in the land and its greater politics. Initially, Attolia is a queen governing without a king, contrary to tradition. As a result, Attolia is surrounded by men wishing to control the country through her, their own schemes kept at bay by Attolia making ruthless example of a few individuals and setting the survivors against each other, focusing their attentions on the immediate threat of their peers rather than the abstract threat of not having direct control of Attolia yet. There is a sense given that the history of Attolia’s reign has been a steady escalation of ruthlessness as the scheming and the impatience of her barons persists and under the distraction of infighting, spies, beheading, and torture she secures alternate sources of power which strengthens the tie of loyalty binding the lower classes to her by instituting policies of a non-traditional nature like: meritocracy in the military, terms of indentured servitude having finite limits, and financial compensation for people working for the crown.

Attolia’s political actions, once the reader comes to understand them, are actions which elevate the powerless in her country and in doing so it enables to cement her own power: the power of one who, traditionally, would also be powerless. That we only become aware of this, truly appreciating the impact of Attolia as queen, instead of just the difficulties and hardships personally suffered, from the point of view of an insignificant young soldier and guard, who both fears and is loyal to the queen, imbues this interpretation of Attolia as one of greater truth than what is shown in the previous books. The narrator of “The King of Attolia”, Costis has a simpler view of the matter, a man on the ground view. He has no experience of living under the rule of anyone but this queen. He is not affected by the wider inter-country politics, his position is one formed by experiencing Attolia’s rule. It does not read as propaganda or apologia for the actions of this woman which are influenced by our ancient history and the politics therein.

Turner’s series has now come to an end and the number of main female characters never expanded beyond Eddis and Attolia but, in a genre that frequently fails women, even now, Eddis and Attolia are nuanced characters, powerful characters stretching the expectations of their archetypes and growing beyond them. The way Turner constructs her novels builds slowly and subtly into works that are feminist, despite the predominance of male characters, and strong with class solidarity and an anti-monarchial bent, despite the majority of the protagonists and point of view characters being members of the nobility. The genre and demographic do not need to steer the politics and ideas of a narrative and, in turn, those aspects cannot be accurately represented by simple numbers and Megan Whalen Turner demonstrates this often overlooked truth with each of her books.

#this would just be a first draft in my uni days #sometimes you need to write until you find the point #the thief #the queen of atolia #the king of attolia #megan whalen turner #The Queen's Thief series #maybe i'll revise this later

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wh6res · 3 years

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three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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hopeymchope · 2 years

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See, that previous ask is exactly what this anon was talking about. That person doesn't like Mikan, so they either hold her responsible for what she did while brainwashed, or outright make up stuff that never happened (like you said, the story never used her past to justify anything bad). When anon said that fans don't make principled judgments, just decide who they like and who they don't like and then decide morality based on that, that previous ask is what anon was talking about.

IT'S THE MIKAN TSUMIKI QUINTUPLE-ASK EVENT!

Note: This first ask is a reaction to this previous ask. And actually, the last two asks at the end of this post are replying to that post, too.

And I can't say for sure whether that person was actually some kind of "Mikan Anti" or whatever, but it does read that way. Of course anyone is entitled to dislike whoever they want... but let's not kid ourselves about the who the actual villain is here.

Or, as this anon put it:

Exaaaactly.

And there's ANOTHER anon who has thoughts on the matter of Mikan Tsumiki being "annoying" or not.

I certainly hope not. Although... they're entitled to still find such a person "annoying," I suppose, so long as they don't lose sympathy for those people/actively hurt those people, y'know? Like, I can find someone "annoying" without actually trying to drive them away from me, because I'm capable of discerning between my gut feelings and my conscious knowledge/thoughts. So even if someone may feel awkward and "annoyed" by a person who's been reduced to a quivering mess due to their years of suffering, I'd only ask that said' "someone" not give that kind of person any additional emotional baggage by trying to brutally reject them or ghost them, y'know? Just... be gentle with them, please.

And that's an interesting statement you make there about people viewing some things in fiction the opposite of how they see them in real life. I think I tend to see things in fiction pretty similarly to how I see things in reality, although I'm probably more forgiving in reality than I am in fiction. Because in reality, people tend to be far more complex than fictional characters. After all, we're not following a fictional character throughout every single step of their days - most of those moments don't even exist. They're defined only by the moments they're written in, whereas I can be more forgiving of someone in reality when I remember there are "off-screen" details in their life that I are not privy to.

She does nervously admit at one point that she enjoys the feeling of taking care of someone who is reliant upon her partly because it gives her a sense of control and power. And given how powerless and out-of-control she usually feels, I can see why that kind of thing gives her a high. I can't really fault her.

And as for the other thing... yeah, ok, I did forget about that moment where she suggests that. At least she backpedals on it almost IMMEDIATELY.

Even so, perhaps I should've said she's pure of heart. .... Even if she isn't pure of mind, because there's some obvious damage there.

#mikan tsumiki #danganronpa #asks #anon #anons #danganronpa screenshots

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here? It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

#lorraine warren x reader #vera farmiga x reader #lorraine warren

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impostoradult · 3 years

Link

This is time that was allotted to these storylines by canon, offering an expectation of meaning and importance, offering what results in a promise—not time the fans imagined or made up, not something they feel nebulously entitled to, but time they spent on plots the canon gave to them. (Cas means something to Dean after all these years and a love confession. Bucky means something to Steve after all these years and a snap. Jaime’s project of growth and his meaningful relationship with Brienne is something worth investing in.) But instead of saying, yes, you spent all this time watching these scenes, feeling these moments, taking this in—you grew with this character, with these relationships (grew in many cases away from the set starting point)—here is your promised meaning, again and again, these properties snatch the rug away and then pretend blithely they cannot understand why “entitled fans” are so upset.

I’ve been meaning to write my version of this argument for a while now, and I suppose this article is just as good a reason as any.

My thesis, in short, is that lack of queer representation actually isn’t what is creating ~the problem~ here. What’s creating the problem is the overriding power of heteronormativity as a kind of ‘trump’ story logic that is allowed to steamroller everything else into oblivion. (And yes, there actually is a substantial difference between those two things)

Sub-thesis 1: Representation Actually Isn’t A Strong Argument for Destiel (or any particular ship/character)

Controversial, I know. The representation argument (while an extremely valid argument as applies to popular culture in general) is actually not a very good argument when it comes to why Dean should be explicitly queer and Destiel should have been consummated.

For one, there’s no reason -- exclusively from the standpoint that it is a moral imperative that queer people are represented in media -- why any particular character or set of characters should be that representation. The ethical cultural mandate to represent marginalized groups does not mandate that any one character or set of characters in any particular given story be that representation*. Yes, even if you as a member of that marginalized group happen to identify with that character. Even then, it isn’t OWED to you. (I think writers should take those trends of identification seriously, and think about what it means to marginalized groups, and act accordingly. But I don’t think it creates an OBLIGATION)

*I’d argue the primary caveat to this would be in stories where the character’s situation or arc is directly related to struggles experienced by that marginalized group (i.e., casting mostly white actors in stories where those characters are experiencing racial oppression)

For another, if representation of queer characters were primarily dictated by fandoms, 90% of queer characters in media would be white, conventionally attractive men. (That might be overstating it a bit, but fandoms have serious biases when it comes to shipping and what kind of characters they latch onto for queer interpretation, and that’s one of the reasons I’m grateful queer representation is not primarily linked to our tastes/preferences).

The representation argument is a very valid argument when examining popular culture as whole, and when looking at broader trends for example, within a genre, or a whole network. But no particular TV show is obligated to make particular characters within it queer just because representation is a moral imperative as a broader cultural issue.

Sub-Thesis 2: Heteronormativity Creates Stupid/Badly Constructed Stories

The actual problem here is how heteronormativity creates a kind of trump logic that overrides coherent storytelling.

I’m not upset about what happened on Supernatural because I think we missed out on representation. There is actually plenty of ~better~ representation elsewhere, and there will continue to be more as time goes on. The representation issue is peripheral at best when it comes to analyzing what went ‘wrong’ with Supernatural.

The key issue here is that stories need to make sense, not just in terms of plot (although that matters), but in terms of character growth, emotional arcs, etc. The ending of Supernatural is bad because it treated massive pieces of character growth and one of the most significant emotional arcs of the whole show as if it was ultimately inconsequential -- which is bad storytelling and doesn’t make sense.

And YES, we are ‘owed’ stories that make sense. It’s not entitled to want a story to be coherent, because coherence is what makes a story a story, and not just a series of random meaninglessly assembled plot points/fictional anecdotes.

The problem is, Hollywood writers keep writing themselves into situations where emotional coherence basically requires an explicitly queer dynamic (or at least a strongly subtextual one), and then just being like...but these characters aren’t queer so we can’t do that. Instead, let’s end Steve’s arc by sending him back in time to live a heterosexual life with Peggy, disregarding the HUGELY significant plot points related to Steve/Bucky which grounded multiple entire movies within the MCU (Winter Solider, Civil War). Let’s end Sherlock by inventing a random, long-lost Holmes sister never remotely hinted at or foreshadowed and make that incomprehensible plot point the finale, when the entire series has been grounded in John and Sherlock’s relationship.

Let’s make it canonically clear Cas’s love for Dean is the one single act of pure free will in a world with a malevolent God trying to manipulate everyone’s lives for his own amusement, and that Cas’s love for Dean is the only thing keeping the primary story-universe of Supernatural intact, because every other version of Sam and Dean in every other universe kill each other as God intended. Let’s make it clear that Cas’s betrayal of heaven due to his love for Dean is literally propping up their entire universe, but then end the story by pretending like it’s not that important after all. Castiel who?

And it’s just like...THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE! It doesn’t make fucking sense. It’s bad writing. So why would you do it? (I mean, I being a bit facetious here. I know exactly why. Because the precious feelings of homophobes will be hurt, and companies don’t want to lose out on their money)

It’s not entitled to want a story to make sense. It’s not entitled to want major plot points and character arcs and emotional dynamics to have resolutions that follow from what came before in the story.

And I’m sorry, but you are a ridiculous person if you watched Dean grieve Castiel’s ostensible deaths in s7 and s13 (both times becoming nearly catatonic, nihilistic, more self-destructive than usual, and borderline suicidal over losing Cas) and try to argue to me that his shrug-it-off attitude towards Cas’s death/loss in the finale makes any goddamn sense at all.

It is utterly inconsistent with everything that has happened before in Supernatural regarding Dean and Castiel’s relationship. It’s incomprehensibly incoherent and just stupid. (And that is just the absolute tip of the incoherence iceberg because to fully explain why the ending of Supernatural re: Destiel doesn’t make sense we’d have to review over 300 episode’s worth of content, and there isn’t time for that)

I’m just so sick and so tired of being asked to pretend to be stupid because you know, man, heterosexuality. They’re not gay!!1!

The exhaustion I feel, as a queer viewer, in fact is not borne out of lack of representation. The representation issue is very much on an upward trajectory and I’m not worried about the future of TV not being queer enough. I’m not.

The exhaustion and frustration and anger I feel as a queer viewer is borne of having to repeatedly watch stupid endings to good stories because the story can only make sense if you make it queer (you cowards). I’m tired of being asked to develop dumb amnesia disease in order to consume endings to stories that had to blow everything up at the end to (re)enforce a heterosexuality that can only stand on a foundation of utter incoherence and contradiction to monumental things that came before it.

I am JUST SO TIRED of being asked to sacrifice my intelligence, my basic logic and critical thinking skills, and my ability to remember basic narrative beats at the alter of almighty Heterosexuality, supreme ruler of all cultural output and destroyer of good queer things.

Heterosexuality isn’t owed my stupidity, and I’m not entitled for wanting stories to make sense. YOU are entitled for demanding my stupidity when you wrote that dumb shit and expected me to act like it wasn’t dumb simply because it was heterosexual.

No, the heterosexuality is exactly the reason it IS dumb.

#Supernatural #Sherlock #Destiel #Johnlock #Stucky #MCU

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