#I don’t want different rules or to be held to a higher standard

[courtjestersanonymous]

Yesterday at work made me so upset I’m playing hooky because I feel like if I walk back into that office I will dissolve into a puddle of tears and violence. Which is generally frowned upon in a work setting.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Jake's Destiny: New Client

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader, stripper!reader Summary: Jake has finally reached his breaking point and just needs a distraction, even for just an hour. Which is how he finds himself at The Hard Deck Gentlemen's Club. But while he expects this to be just a one-time thing, everything changes when Destiny walks through his door. Word Count: 4855 TW: Grinding, Light Thigh Riding, Stress, Panic Attack, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Strip Club, Reader's clothes are described Note: Thank you to @green-socks for all of your help and the beta read! Love you!!! 💕

Series Masterlist (but can be read as a one-shot)

Jake wasn’t sure why he was here. While he had been to strip clubs in the past, they weren’t really his thing. If he wanted to see naked girls all he had to do was go to any bar, flash his black Amex as he bought a round of drinks, and he’d have at least three of them begging him to take them back to his place within the hour. But tonight was different. Tonight he was looking for a distraction and he was hoping he could find one here.

He had never been to The Hard Deck Gentlemen’s Club but it had excellent reviews online as well as having a reputation for being incredibly discreet which was a must. The last thing he needed was for his family to find out he was here. He already heard enough about how he was a disappointment who had tarnished the family name; he didn’t need to add any further fuel to that fire.

Looking around, Jake was surprised at the small crowd gathered around the stage. At this time in the afternoon, he had expected the place to be basically empty, however there were at least a dozen men watching the girl currently performing and another four or five standing around the bar. 

Hunching his shoulders and ducking his head in case there was anyone around who might recognize him, Jake searched for where he needed to go. His eyes landed on a shorter man leaning against a podium by the side of the stage. He didn’t necessarily look like the sort of guy to work at a higher-end place like this, but Jake could just make out the staff shirt peeking out from beneath his leather bomber jacket. So, Jake took a chance and walked over to him.

As he got closer, the man looked over to see Jake approaching. He smiled and asked, “Hey there. Anything I can help you with?”

“Who do I see about booking a private room?” Jake asked, forgoing any pleasantries. 

“That’d be me. I just need to see your ID.” The man picked up a clipboard from off the podium. “Anyone or anything in particular you were looking for? A specific girl or request?”

“I don’t care,” Jake grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets to pull out his wallet. “Just send me whoever you have.”

The man nodded as Jake flashed him his ID. “You got it. Looks like I can have someone ready for you in about ten minutes. Until then you can go back to the room and just get comfortable. Your hour won’t start until she comes in so don’t worry about that.” 

He wrote something else down on the clipboard and then offered it to Jake along with his pen. Jake skimmed the page quickly but it just seemed like a standard waiver with a set of rules he was supposed to follow. Although, Jake did raise his eyebrow at the price at the bottom of the page. Now he remembered another reason why he usually stuck to bars rather than places like this. Yet money had never been a concern for Jake Seresin so he just silently pulled out his wallet and counted out the correct cash. Then he signed the form ‘Jake’ and held it and the money out to the man.

The man took a quick look at the form and shook his head. “Full name on the signature. First and last.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “I thought this place prided itself on discrepancy and anonymity?”

“We do…. from other people. But one of the ways we keep our girls safe and protected is by knowing exactly who we are sending in to be with them. This way if anyone tries to get out of hand or does something we don’t approve of, we know who did it. However, we don’t share that information with anyone, except the police if they have a warrant but that’s never happened before.”

He gestured to the form once again and Jake reluctantly signed his last name as well. This seemed to be acceptable since this time the man took the clipboard and the money from Jake. 

The man quickly did a count of his own before stuffing the money into his pocket. Then, he stuck out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Jake blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Seems like you didn’t read those rules before you signed them– no one ever does,” the man muttered under his breath. He held out the sheet Jake had just signed and pointed to a bullet point near the bottom. “There’s no phones allowed in the private rooms.”

Jake scoffed. “Yeah, well, I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Yeah, well, then you’re not going back there.”

“I already paid you!”

The man dug into his pocket and pulled out the cash Jake had just slipped him. He held it out for Jake to take, but Jake hesitated. Would it really be so bad to get an escape from all the numerous texts, calls, and emails that were constantly blowing up his phone? Maybe a single hour of reprieve would be good for him.

Seeing his indecision, the man sighed. “Look, kid. You either hand me your phone or you take your money and go. It’s up to you.”

Jake’s mind quickly flashed to those boring safety seminars all company employees were mandated to take that emphasized never letting your phone out of your sight in public or never allowing anyone else to see it. Especially if your phone contained any sensitive company information– which was about 90% of what was on Jake’s phone. Yet, it didn’t stop him from pulling out his phone, double-checking it was locked, and reluctantly handing it out to the man.

The man took it with a nod. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He slipped Jake’s phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and gestured to a hallway on the far side of the bar. “Now, go down that hall and into room 3. One of the girls will meet you there in a few minutes. When you’re done, come find me and I’ll give this back to you. If I’m not around, just ask any of the girls for Maverick and they’ll know where to find me.” 

Jake scowled. He couldn’t believe he just handed over his entire life to a man named ‘Maverick’. “Just so you know, that phone has the highest security protection money can buy so don’t even think of trying to break into it.”

Maverick chuckled as he shook his head. “Kid, I’ve got better things to do than to sit here and try to break into your phone. So whatever it is you think you have to hide from the world, believe me, it’ll still be safely hidden when you get back.” He glanced at the stage as the song came to an end and the spotlights dimmed signaling the performer to walk off stage. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have to get back to those better things. And so do you. Room 3, your girl will join you shortly.” And with that, Maverick turned and left.

Jake watched him walk away and duck through a door marked “Employees Only” before he headed towards the hall. Walking down it, he was soon met with a dead end. To his right was a single metal door with the sign “Security Office” on the front and to his left was another hallway lined on both sides with doors. Each door had a number painted on it in fancy calligraphic font so Jake turned left and headed for the one at the end of the hall labeled 3.

Opening the door, he was pleased with how clean and well-furnished the room looked. Various chairs, an ottoman, a couch, and several tables were scattered around the well-lit room. There was a floor-to-ceiling pole off to one side in front of one of the larger chairs and a small platform that was probably a kind of mini stage on the other side of the room. But Jake ignored all of this in favor of the large red velvet couch.

As he sat down, he eyed the glasses and various liquors displayed on the table across from him. Maverick hadn’t mentioned anything about drinks being provided but then again, Jake had paid a pretty penny for this room. The least they could do is comp him one drink. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a small taste of the whiskey. It wasn’t top shelf by any means, but it was smooth enough and Jake wasn’t in the mood to be picky so he filled his glass and eased back into the cushions to wait. 

It didn’t take long.

A moment later, the door opened and Jake’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat as you walked in and closed the door behind you. 

You were wearing a pale pink sheer robe with matching pink feathers all along the edges that fell to the floor and brushed against the top of your ridiculously tall heels. Though it was tied loosely around your waist, he could see a set of lingerie a few shades darker than the robe showing through. He was slightly surprised by its style. In the clubs he’d been to before, all the girls wore very skimpy clothing– practically just a tiny piece of cloth held up by a string. But while yours was still revealing, it was also much more suggestive. Clinging perfectly to your body, the material was cut in such a way that it gave a tantalizing tease of what was just beneath without showing off too much. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off where it was molded over your breast or hugged your hips. 

However, whatever hold you had on him shattered the second he glanced up at your face. While you were breathtaking, your blank doe-eyed expression and big pouty lips were an instant turn-off. Jake had been dealing with enough immature babies recently. He didn’t need to pay to deal with another one. 

But before he could say anything, you batted your long eyelashes at him as you bent over slightly- pushing out your breasts as you did so –and bit your lip cooing, “Hey there, baby. What brings you in to see me today?”

Your voice was breathy and dripping with a saccharine charm that Jake was sure worked on some people, but to him just sounded condescending and demeaning. Rolling his eyes, he drained his glass and reached for the bottle in front of him. “You can drop the act. I don’t want it.”

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes wide and innocent. But then your entire demeanor shifted as you straightened up to your full height. No longer this meek, innocent girl looking to please her client, you met his gaze with a self-assured confidence and smirked at him. Now it was his turn to be surprised. It was like he was staring at a completely different woman than the one who had walked in. 

“Oh, thank god,” you sighed in what almost sounded like relief. The breathy quality of your voice was now replaced by a strong, smooth tone that he found very pleasing. “I hate doing the naive little girl thing.”

Sauntering across the room with a flutter of your feather-trimmed robe, you paused in front of the ottoman to the side of the couch. Lifting the top, Jake could see it was actually a storage unit filled with small bottles of water. You picked one up and quickly downed it in a few large gulps. 

Wiping your hand across the back of your mouth, you said, “Before we get started, there are a couple of ground rules you need to know. Are you alright with that?”

“Ye-yeah. I guess,” Jake stuttered, still thrown off guard by your complete 180-degree shift in personality. 

You nodded in confirmation then began to ramble off the rules in a way that made Jake feel as though you had given this speech many times before. “To start with, anything you say while in this room is confidential and I am not allowed to share with any third party so you are free to discuss anything without the fear that it will get back to anyone else in your life. Please remember that I am a stripper, not a prostitute so there is no kissing or sex of any kind. If you have some kink or fetish you want me to perform, you are more than welcome to ask but it is up to my comfort and discretion if I’ll do it. I do allow some touching above the belt but if you try to go too far, you’ll get a warning. On the second warning, we’re done. If that happens, I’ll leave no matter how much time you have left in your hour. If you try to stop me or do anything I or the club does not approve of–” you pointed towards the corner of the room “–the person monitoring the cameras will send security to escort you from the club and you will be banned for life. Also, I don’t date or fraternize with clients once I am off the clock so don’t even ask. Are there any questions or concerns?” 

“No,” Jake muttered.

“Good. Then we are ready to start.” You selected another water bottle before returning the lid to the top of the ottoman.

With the bottle still in your hand, you crossed the remaining distance and stood before Jake. “Sorry about before. They didn’t tell me what you wanted when they sent me in here and usually, men who look and dress like you want one of three types of girls so I took a guess.”

“And what type of girls would that be?” Jake asked.

Dramatically swishing your robe behind you, you sat down on the edge of the table across from him, crossing one leg over the other so your foot just barely avoided skimming his knee. “Oh, you know. Either the sweet, empty-headed young thing who just wants to make daddy happy after a long day at work. Or the submissive who loves being called all those dirty, filthy things a man should never call their wife or girlfriend. Or the dominatrix who loves calling the man all those things a wife or girlfriend should never be asked to call them.” You chuckled ruefully as you shook your head. “If guys would just grow some balls and tell their significant others what they really wanted, what got them off, I would be out of a job in a second. But there is still too much of a stigma about admitting what you want so… here I am.”

Opening your water bottle, you took another small sip. Then, you ran the toe of your shoe up and down Jake’s thigh. “So, which is it? What kind of girl are you looking for tonight?”

Jake shook his head. “None of those. I mean, that’s not… I..”

Putting the bottle down, you leaned forward and gently took his hands between yours. Then, in a soft, kind voice, you said, “It’s alright. I told you, I’m here so you can ask for whatever you need. You paid for this to be a safe place and I won't judge you. But believe me, whatever it is, I’ve seen weirder.”

Looking deep into your eyes, Jake got the strangest feeling that you were right and he could trust you. He might come to regret it later but right now he didn’t have anywhere else to turn. So, taking a deep breath, he muttered, “I don’t know what I want. Or even what I need. I just… I just need a break from it all. It’s just too much.”

Your sweet smile shifted to one of understanding. "Ohhh. You’re right. You aren’t here for one of those kinds of girls. The fancy suit threw me off but you’re just here looking for what everyone really wants.”

“And what is that?”

"Someone to listen. To really hear what’s wrong and tell you it’s all going to be alright. You're a talker. But that's okay. Those are my favorite kinds of clients." You slipped forward off the table and onto his lap so you were straddling one of his legs. Wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding your fingers into his hair, you asked, "So, what is it you wanna talk about, baby?”

Jake flinched and tried to pull back but you held yourself firmly in place. “No. Not that. Don’t.. Don’t call me that.”

“Alright… then what should I call you?”

“Jake. Just…. Just call me Jake.”

You smiled and scooted down his leg closer to his chest. “Okay, Jake. You can call me Destiny.” He snorted at the name before he could stop himself. But luckily, you didn’t seem offended. Instead, your smile widened. “Alright, you’re not a fan of that either. How ‘bout you call me Des? Normally I only let my friends call me that. But I think I can make an exception in your case.”

It was still ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t such a blatant reminder of where he was or who you were. “Yeah, okay, fine. I guess it’s nice to meet you, Des.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jake.” 

All the snark and attitude from before had melted away and you had once again transformed into another person. Where before the sweet breathiness of your voice had been cloying, it was now calming and reassuring. Almost as if you were whispering each word so only the two of you could hear. And the way your eyes locked onto his with such compassion and interest, he truly felt as if he were the only person in the world at that moment.

Slowly, you began to rock gently against his thigh while at the same time, your nails began to scratch at the base of his neck. “Now, Jake, do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Jake felt all the tension and stress of the last few weeks slowly ebbing from his body and you continued to lightly caress his head and grind down on his leg. The repetitive motions were soothing and relaxing and he soon found his eyes growing heavy until he was unable to keep them open any longer– not asleep but just more relaxed than he remembered feeling in a long time.

You continued your gentle grinding for what seemed like an eternity before leaning closer and brushing your nose against his ear. With a soft coo, you asked, “Come on, Jake. What’s wrong? You came here for a reason, so what is it?”

Jake opened his eyes to see your face hovering just inches from his. If he tilted his head slightly, his lips would brush against yours. But instead, he took a deep breath before letting it out really slowly. Then he opened his mouth and everything he had been holding back suddenly came flooding out. “It’s everything. It’s my work, and my family, and my life, and just… just all of it! I can’t get two seconds to myself where I’m not being hounded for answers or opinions or I’m expected to put out another fire yet being told I always do it wrong! I can’t breathe! It’s too much and I– I can’t–”

“Shhh, shhhhhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Jake didn’t even realize his voice had begun to rise to a frantic pitch and he was hyperventilating until you placed your hands on the side of his face and forced him to look at you. Your voice maintained its same soothing tone and though you were no longer scratching the back of his head, you continued to rock against his leg as if nothing had changed. 

With the same understanding gleam in your eyes, you smiled softly. "You can breathe here. It's just you and me. No one else. No other demands or expectations, no one asking you for anything. Just whatever you want and you need. That's all."

Jake’s eyes darted up to the corner where you had pointed out the camera earlier, but you turned his face back to face you. “It’s okay. Believe me, they try to avoid watching what happens in here as much as possible. Just enough to make sure us girls are safe. And I can tell I’m safe with you. In fact–” You turned towards the corner and gave a thumbs up before flipping off the camera. Turning back to Jake, you said, “There. Now they’re not even watching.”

“What was that?” Jake asked with a small anxious chuckle.

Grinning, you gave him a thumbs up. “It means ‘I’m all good’—” You put your thumb down and stuck your middle finger straight up “—‘now fuck off’.”

“Clever system.”

“Thanks. We think so.” You skimmed your fingers lightly up his cheek to brush a fallen strand of hair off his face. “Now… back to you. I meant it, Jake. Whatever you need. And if that is for us to just sit in silence while I continue to do this, that’s fine. Or, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, I’m here to listen. It’s whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Jake admitted. “And I guess that’s part of the problem.” He hesitated as he considered his next words carefully so as to not give too much about himself away. “My family owns a very large, very successful company based here in Texas. It was started by my great-great-grandfather and has since become very…. profitable. And with all of that comes a lot of responsibility to not fuck it all up. And yes, I made some stupid mistakes in my past, but since my dad had a heart attack last year and I’ve taken over, I’ve tried everything I can to grow up and do what’s best for the company. But nothing I seem to do, no decision I make, is ever right in my family’s eyes. I’m trying everything I can to live up to my family name and expectations but…. I keep failing. And I just…. I don’t know what to do.”

Jake knew this was ridiculous. You weren’t some strategic advisor or psychiatrist. You were just someone he had paid to be currently grinding against his thigh. And yet, you quirked your head and began to chew on your bottom lip like you were deep in thought. Like you actually wanted to help him solve his problems. And once again, Jake was hit by a wave of emotion at actually being seen and listened to by someone.

After pondering his predicament for a moment, you finally spoke. “Let me ask you a question. Are you happy with the work and choices you’re making? Like, do you think they were the best ones you could have made at the time?”

“Yes,” Jake reluctantly admitted.

“And how do others outside of your family think you’re doing? Co-workers, employees, others in charge, people like that.”

Jake shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I mean, they mostly seem happy with how things are going.”

“Then sweethear– Jake. I don’t think the problem is you. I think the problem is your family.” Seeing Jake’s furrowed brow, you explained. “It sounds like you’re doing a great job so maybe your family’s constant criticism and degradation is their fucked up way of trying to remain relevant or in control. That they don’t like the fact you are succeeding without them or their help. Or that they don’t want to admit you’ve grown from your mistakes in the past and become someone worthy of this position you’ve been given.”

It felt as if you had just punched him in the chest. For a minute, Jake actually struggled to catch his breath. It was a thought that had frequently nagged at the deepest corners of his mind but he had refused to entertain. But hearing someone else say it, hearing the words uttered out loud, he was no longer able to pretend it wasn’t possible. Maybe he wasn’t the fuckup his father seemed to think he was. Maybe he wasn’t leading the company into failure and ruin like his mother always loudly whispered to her friends when Jake walked in the room. Maybe Javy hadn’t just been a great friend when he told Jake the rest of the board was very pleased with his latest decisions and changes. Maybe this wasn’t all on him after all.

As Jake opened his mouth to share this revelation with you, a large red light above the door lit up but you ignored it as you continued to stare at Jake expectantly. He nodded towards the light. “What does that mean?”

“That means your hour is up. But we’re not done talking so we’re ignoring it for now. It seemed as if you just had a breakthrough of some kind.”

Jake gave you a small smile. “I think I did. But, uh, I think for now I need to process things first before I talk about it. Can I… Can I come see you again when I’m ready for that?”

You smiled back as you ran your hand down his face and lingered over his lips. “Jake, you can come see me anytime you want, whether you’re ready to talk about it or not. I’m sure we can find other things to occupy the time.” 

You rolled your scantily-clad body into his one final time and stood up off his lap. Holding out your hand, you helped him to his feet. Then, looping your arm through his, you walked with him towards the door. 

When you both reached it, you slid your arm out of his and took a step back. “I have to stay and straighten up a few things but just head back down the hall and you’ll get back to the main room. And I do honestly hope to see you again sometime, Jake.”

“Me too, Des.” Jake reached for the door handle, but he paused just before opening it. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “You’ve known who I was since you walked in here, haven’t you?”

You winced as you grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve known who you were. It’s hard not to recognize Jacob Seresin when his face is plastered all over the tabloids every few months. But I promise you, it doesn’t change anything. What we say or do in here will always be completely just between us. I promise my clients a safe space, and I mean it. It doesn’t matter who you are.”

Well, thank you for being the person I needed tonight.” Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out three bills that he held up. “Just my way of showing my appreciation.” Then he placed them on the table near the door and walked out into the hallway.

As Jake exited into the main room feeling lighter than he had in almost a year, he noticed the man with the clipboard from earlier standing at the other end of the bar laughing with the young brunette bartender. As he approached, the man – Maverick, Jake suddenly remembered – caught his eye and turned to him. “Well, you look like you had a good time.”

Jake smiled softly to himself. “Yeah. I actually did.” Though he had planned on never returning to this place after tonight, his mind flashed to the tender look in your eyes as you promised him he could relax with you. “In fact, I’m going to be making this a weekly thing.”

Maverick chuckled as he picked up his clipboard off the bar. “Sounds like you really enjoyed your time. Alright, I’ll mark you down as one of our exclusive Platinum members. Basically, it guarantees you a room and discounts on drinks and dances, that sort of thing.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, fine, whatever. I don’t care about any of that. However, when I come in, I only want Destiny.” 

Maverick paused mid-note with his pen still pressed against the clipboard as he looked up at Jake. “Sorry, kid. I can’t promise that. It all depends on her schedule and if she’s in the middle of seeing someone else and–”

“I’ll pay triple her rate.”

The other man raised an eyebrow as he continued to stare at Jake. “Damn. I’ve seen plenty of guys hooked before but it usually takes more than one dance.” Shaking his head with a grin, Maverick scribbled something else on the clipboard. “Alright. I’ve made the note.” He looked back up at Jake. “You must see something really special in her, huh?”

Yeah. Jake thought as he remembered your smile and your soft, soothing whispering in his ear and the way you really seemed to see him instead of just a tool to be used despite knowing who he was and the feel of your nails scratching at the base of his neck as you rocked back and forth against his leg and— Oh fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

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[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Jake's Destiny: New Client

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader, stripper!reader Summary: Jake has finally reached his breaking point and just needs a distraction, even for just an hour. Which is how he finds himself at The Hard Deck Gentlemen's Club. But while he expects this to be just a one-time thing, everything changes when Destiny walks through his door. Word Count: 4855 TW: Grinding, Light Thigh Riding, Stress, Panic Attack, Family Issues, Strip Club, Reader's clothes are described Note: Thank you to @green-socks for all of your help and the beta read! Love you!!! 💕

Series Masterlist (but can be read as a one-shot)

Jake wasn’t sure why he was here. While he had been to strip clubs in the past, they weren’t really his thing. If he wanted to see naked girls all he had to do was go to any bar, flash his black Amex as he bought a round of drinks, and he’d have at least three of them begging him to take them back to his place within the hour. But tonight was different. Tonight he was looking for a distraction and he was hoping he could find one here.

He had never been to The Hard Deck Gentlemen’s Club but it had excellent reviews online as well as having a reputation for being incredibly discreet which was a must. The last thing he needed was for his family to find out he was here. He already heard enough about how he was a disappointment who had tarnished the family name; he didn’t need to add any further fuel to that fire.

Looking around, Jake was surprised at the small crowd gathered around the stage. At this time in the afternoon, he had expected the place to be basically empty, however there were at least a dozen men watching the girl currently performing and another four or five standing around the bar. 

Hunching his shoulders and ducking his head in case there was anyone around who might recognize him, Jake searched for where he needed to go. His eyes landed on a shorter man leaning against a podium by the side of the stage. He didn’t necessarily look like the sort of guy to work at a higher-end place like this, but Jake could just make out the staff shirt peeking out from beneath his leather bomber jacket. So, Jake took a chance and walked over to him.

As he got closer, the man looked over to see Jake approaching. He smiled and asked, “Hey there. Anything I can help you with?”

“Who do I see about booking a private room?” Jake asked, forgoing any pleasantries. 

“That’d be me. I just need to see your ID.” The man picked up a clipboard from off the podium. “Anyone or anything in particular you were looking for? A specific girl or request?”

“I don’t care,” Jake grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets to pull out his wallet. “Just send me whoever you have.”

The man nodded as Jake flashed him his ID. “You got it. Looks like I can have someone ready for you in about ten minutes. Until then you can go back to the room and just get comfortable. Your hour won’t start until she comes in so don’t worry about that.” 

He wrote something else down on the clipboard and then offered it to Jake along with his pen. Jake skimmed the page quickly but it just seemed like a standard waiver with a set of rules he was supposed to follow. Although, Jake did raise his eyebrow at the price at the bottom of the page. Now he remembered another reason why he usually stuck to bars rather than places like this. Yet money had never been a concern for Jake Seresin so he just silently pulled out his wallet and counted out the correct cash. Then he signed the form ‘Jake’ and held it and the money out to the man.

The man took a quick look at the form and shook his head. “Full name on the signature. First and last.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “I thought this place prided itself on discrepancy and anonymity?”

“We do…. from other people. But one of the ways we keep our girls safe and protected is by knowing exactly who we are sending in to be with them. This way if anyone tries to get out of hand or does something we don’t approve of, we know who did it. However, we don’t share that information with anyone, except the police if they have a warrant but that’s never happened before.”

He gestured to the form once again and Jake reluctantly signed his last name as well. This seemed to be acceptable since this time the man took the clipboard and the money from Jake. 

The man quickly did a count of his own before stuffing the money into his pocket. Then, he stuck out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Jake blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Seems like you didn’t read those rules before you signed them– no one ever does,” the man muttered under his breath. He held out the sheet Jake had just signed and pointed to a bullet point near the bottom. “There’s no phones allowed in the private rooms.”

Jake scoffed. “Yeah, well, I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Yeah, well, then you’re not going back there.”

“I already paid you!”

The man dug into his pocket and pulled out the cash Jake had just slipped him. He held it out for Jake to take, but Jake hesitated. Would it really be so bad to get an escape from all the numerous texts, calls, and emails that were constantly blowing up his phone? Maybe a single hour of reprieve would be good for him.

Seeing his indecision, the man sighed. “Look, kid. You either hand me your phone or you take your money and go. It’s up to you.”

Jake’s mind quickly flashed to those boring safety seminars all company employees were mandated to take that emphasized never letting your phone out of your sight in public or never allowing anyone else to see it. Especially if your phone contained any sensitive company information– which was about 90% of what was on Jake’s phone. Yet, it didn’t stop him from pulling out his phone, double-checking it was locked, and reluctantly handing it out to the man.

The man took it with a nod. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He slipped Jake’s phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and gestured to a hallway on the far side of the bar. “Now, go down that hall and into room 3. One of the girls will meet you there in a few minutes. When you’re done, come find me and I’ll give this back to you. If I’m not around, just ask any of the girls for Maverick and they’ll know where to find me.” 

Jake scowled. He couldn’t believe he just handed over his entire life to a man named ‘Maverick’. “Just so you know, that phone has the highest security protection money can buy so don’t even think of trying to break into it.”

Maverick chuckled as he shook his head. “Kid, I’ve got better things to do than to sit here and try to break into your phone. So whatever it is you think you have to hide from the world, believe me, it’ll still be safely hidden when you get back.” He glanced at the stage as the song came to an end and the spotlights dimmed signaling the performer to walk off stage. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have to get back to those better things. And so do you. Room 3, your girl will join you shortly.” And with that, Maverick turned and left.

Jake watched him walk away and duck through a door marked “Employees Only” before he headed towards the hall. Walking down it, he was soon met with a dead end. To his right was a single metal door with the sign “Security Office” on the front and to his left was another hallway lined on both sides with doors. Each door had a number painted on it in fancy calligraphic font so Jake turned left and headed for the one at the end of the hall labeled 3.

Opening the door, he was pleased with how clean and well-furnished the room looked. Various chairs, an ottoman, a couch, and several tables were scattered around the well-lit room. There was a floor-to-ceiling pole off to one side in front of one of the larger chairs and a small platform that was probably a kind of mini stage on the other side of the room. But Jake ignored all of this in favor of the large red velvet couch.

As he sat down, he eyed the glasses and various liquors displayed on the table across from him. Maverick hadn’t mentioned anything about drinks being provided but then again, Jake had paid a pretty penny for this room. The least they could do is comp him one drink. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a small taste of the whiskey. It wasn’t top shelf by any means, but it was smooth enough and Jake wasn’t in the mood to be picky so he filled his glass and eased back into the cushions to wait. 

It didn’t take long.

A moment later, the door opened and Jake’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat as you walked in and closed the door behind you. 

You were wearing a pale pink sheer robe with matching pink feathers all along the edges that fell to the floor and brushed against the top of your ridiculously tall heels. Though it was tied loosely around your waist, he could see a set of lingerie a few shades darker than the robe showing through. He was slightly surprised by its style. In the clubs he’d been to before, all the girls wore very skimpy clothing– practically just a tiny piece of cloth held up by a string. But while yours was still revealing, it was also much more suggestive. Clinging perfectly to your body, the material was cut in such a way that it gave a tantalizing tease of what was just beneath without showing off too much. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off where it was molded over your breast or hugged your hips. 

However, whatever hold you had on him shattered the second he glanced up at your face. While you were breathtaking, your blank doe-eyed expression and big pouty lips were an instant turn-off. Jake had been dealing with enough immature babies recently. He didn’t need to pay to deal with another one. 

But before he could say anything, you batted your long eyelashes at him as you bent over slightly- pushing out your breasts as you did so –and bit your lip cooing, “Hey there, baby. What brings you in to see me today?”

Your voice was breathy and dripping with a saccharine charm that Jake was sure worked on some people, but to him just sounded condescending and demeaning. Rolling his eyes, he drained his glass and reached for the bottle in front of him. “You can drop the act. I don’t want it.”

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes wide and innocent. But then your entire demeanor shifted as you straightened up to your full height. No longer this meek, innocent girl looking to please her client, you met his gaze with a self-assured confidence and smirked at him. Now it was his turn to be surprised. It was like he was staring at a completely different woman than the one who had walked in. 

“Oh, thank god,” you sighed in what almost sounded like relief. The breathy quality of your voice was now replaced by a strong, smooth tone that he found very pleasing. “I hate doing the naive little girl thing.”

Sauntering across the room with a flutter of your feather-trimmed robe, you paused in front of the ottoman to the side of the couch. Lifting the top, Jake could see it was actually a storage unit filled with small bottles of water. You picked one up and quickly downed it in a few large gulps. 

Wiping your hand across the back of your mouth, you said, “Before we get started, there are a couple of ground rules you need to know. Are you alright with that?”

“Ye-yeah. I guess,” Jake stuttered, still thrown off guard by your complete 180-degree shift in personality. 

You nodded in confirmation then began to ramble off the rules in a way that made Jake feel as though you had given this speech many times before. “To start with, anything you say while in this room is confidential and I am not allowed to share with any third party so you are free to discuss anything without the fear that it will get back to anyone else in your life. Please remember that I am a stripper, not a prostitute so there is no kissing or sex of any kind. If you have some kink or fetish you want me to perform, you are more than welcome to ask but it is up to my comfort and discretion if I’ll do it. I do allow some touching above the belt but if you try to go too far, you’ll get a warning. On the second warning, we’re done. If that happens, I’ll leave no matter how much time you have left in your hour. If you try to stop me or do anything I or the club does not approve of–” you pointed towards the corner of the room “–the person monitoring the cameras will send security to escort you from the club and you will be banned for life. Also, I don’t date or fraternize with clients once I am off the clock so don’t even ask. Are there any questions or concerns?” 

“No,” Jake muttered.

“Good. Then we are ready to start.” You selected another water bottle before returning the lid to the top of the ottoman.

With the bottle still in your hand, you crossed the remaining distance and stood before Jake. “Sorry about before. They didn’t tell me what you wanted when they sent me in here and usually, men who look and dress like you want one of three types of girls so I took a guess.”

“And what type of girls would that be?” Jake asked.

Dramatically swishing your robe behind you, you sat down on the edge of the table across from him, crossing one leg over the other so your foot just barely avoided skimming his knee. “Oh, you know. Either the sweet, empty-headed young thing who just wants to make daddy happy after a long day at work. Or the submissive who loves being called all those dirty, filthy things a man should never call their wife or girlfriend. Or the dominatrix who loves calling the man all those things a wife or girlfriend should never be asked to call them.” You chuckled ruefully as you shook your head. “If guys would just grow some balls and tell their significant others what they really wanted, what got them off, I would be out of a job in a second. But there is still too much of a stigma about admitting what you want so… here I am.”

Opening your water bottle, you took another small sip. Then, you ran the toe of your shoe up and down Jake’s thigh. “So, which is it? What kind of girl are you looking for tonight?”

Jake shook his head. “None of those. I mean, that’s not… I..”

Putting the bottle down, you leaned forward and gently took his hands between yours. Then, in a soft, kind voice, you said, “It’s alright. I told you, I’m here so you can ask for whatever you need. You paid for this to be a safe place and I won't judge you. But believe me, whatever it is, I’ve seen weirder.”

Looking deep into your eyes, Jake got the strangest feeling that you were right and he could trust you. He might come to regret it later but right now he didn’t have anywhere else to turn. So, taking a deep breath, he muttered, “I don’t know what I want. Or even what I need. I just… I just need a break from it all. It’s just too much.”

Your sweet smile shifted to one of understanding. "Ohhh. You’re right. You aren’t here for one of those kinds of girls. The fancy suit threw me off but you’re just here looking for what everyone really wants.”

“And what is that?”

"Someone to listen. To really hear what’s wrong and tell you it’s all going to be alright. You're a talker. But that's okay. Those are my favorite kinds of clients." You slipped forward off the table and onto his lap so you were straddling one of his legs. Wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding your fingers into his hair, you asked, "So, what is it you wanna talk about, baby?”

Jake flinched and tried to pull back but you held yourself firmly in place. “No. Not that. Don’t.. Don’t call me that.”

“Alright… then what should I call you?”

“Jake. Just…. Just call me Jake.”

You smiled and scooted down his leg closer to his chest. “Okay, Jake. You can call me Destiny.” He snorted at the name before he could stop himself. But luckily, you didn’t seem offended. Instead, your smile widened. “Alright, you’re not a fan of that either. How ‘bout you call me Des? Normally I only let my friends call me that. But I think I can make an exception in your case.”

It was still ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t such a blatant reminder of where he was or who you were. “Yeah, okay, fine. I guess it’s nice to meet you, Des.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jake.” 

All the snark and attitude from before had melted away and you had once again transformed into another person. Where before the sweet breathiness of your voice had been cloying, it was now calming and reassuring. Almost as if you were whispering each word so only the two of you could hear. And the way your eyes locked onto his with such compassion and interest, he truly felt as if he were the only person in the world at that moment.

Slowly, you began to rock gently against his thigh while at the same time, your nails began to scratch at the base of his neck. “Now, Jake, do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Jake felt all the tension and stress of the last few weeks slowly ebbing from his body and you continued to lightly caress his head and grind down on his leg. The repetitive motions were soothing and relaxing and he soon found his eyes growing heavy until he was unable to keep them open any longer– not asleep but just more relaxed than he remembered feeling in a long time.

You continued your gentle grinding for what seemed like an eternity before leaning closer and brushing your nose against his ear. With a soft coo, you asked, “Come on, Jake. What’s wrong? You came here for a reason, so what is it?”

Jake opened his eyes to see your face hovering just inches from his. If he tilted his head slightly, his lips would brush against yours. But instead, he took a deep breath before letting it out really slowly. Then he opened his mouth and everything he had been holding back suddenly came flooding out. “It’s everything. It’s my work, and my family, and my life, and just… just all of it! I can’t get two seconds to myself where I’m not being hounded for answers or opinions or I’m expected to put out another fire yet being told I always do it wrong! I can’t breathe! It’s too much and I– I can’t–”

“Shhh, shhhhhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Jake didn’t even realize his voice had begun to rise to a frantic pitch and he was hyperventilating until you placed your hands on the side of his face and forced him to look at you. Your voice maintained its same soothing tone and though you were no longer scratching the back of his head, you continued to rock against his leg as if nothing had changed. 

With the same understanding gleam in your eyes, you smiled softly. "You can breathe here. It's just you and me. No one else. No other demands or expectations, no one asking you for anything. Just whatever you want and you need. That's all."

Jake’s eyes darted up to the corner where you had pointed out the camera earlier, but you turned his face back to face you. “It’s okay. Believe me, they try to avoid watching what happens in here as much as possible. Just enough to make sure us girls are safe. And I can tell I’m safe with you. In fact–” You turned towards the corner and gave a thumbs up before flipping off the camera. Turning back to Jake, you said, “There. Now they’re not even watching.”

“What was that?” Jake asked with a small anxious chuckle.

Grinning, you gave him a thumbs up. “It means ‘I’m all good’—” You put your thumb down and stuck your middle finger straight up “—‘now fuck off’.”

“Clever system.”

“Thanks. We think so.” You skimmed your fingers lightly up his cheek to brush a fallen strand of hair off his face. “Now… back to you. I meant it, Jake. Whatever you need. And if that is for us to just sit in silence while I continue to do this, that’s fine. Or, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, I’m here to listen. It’s whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Jake admitted. “And I guess that’s part of the problem.” He hesitated as he considered his next words carefully so as to not give too much about himself away. “My family owns a very large, very successful company based here in Texas. It was started by my great-great-grandfather and has since become very…. profitable. And with all of that comes a lot of responsibility to not fuck it all up. And yes, I made some stupid mistakes in my past, but since my dad had a heart attack last year and I’ve taken over, I’ve tried everything I can to grow up and do what’s best for the company. But nothing I seem to do, no decision I make, is ever right in my family’s eyes. I’m trying everything I can to live up to my family name and expectations but…. I keep failing. And I just…. I don’t know what to do.”

Jake knew this was ridiculous. You weren’t some strategic advisor or psychiatrist. You were just someone he had paid to be currently grinding against his thigh. And yet, you quirked your head and began to chew on your bottom lip like you were deep in thought. Like you actually wanted to help him solve his problems. And once again, Jake was hit by a wave of emotion at actually being seen and listened to by someone.

After pondering his predicament for a moment, you finally spoke. “Let me ask you a question. Are you happy with the work and choices you’re making? Like, do you think they were the best ones you could have made at the time?”

“Yes,” Jake reluctantly admitted.

“And how do others outside of your family think you’re doing? Co-workers, employees, others in charge, people like that.”

Jake shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I mean, they mostly seem happy with how things are going.”

“Then sweethear– Jake. I don’t think the problem is you. I think the problem is your family.” Seeing Jake’s furrowed brow, you explained. “It sounds like you’re doing a great job so maybe your family’s constant criticism and degradation is their fucked up way of trying to remain relevant or in control. That they don’t like the fact you are succeeding without them or their help. Or that they don’t want to admit you’ve grown from your mistakes in the past and become someone worthy of this position you’ve been given.”

It felt as if you had just punched him in the chest. For a minute, Jake actually struggled to catch his breath. It was a thought that had frequently nagged at the deepest corners of his mind but he had refused to entertain. But hearing someone else say it, hearing the words uttered out loud, he was no longer able to pretend it wasn’t possible. Maybe he wasn’t the fuckup his father seemed to think he was. Maybe he wasn’t leading the company into failure and ruin like his mother always loudly whispered to her friends when Jake walked in the room. Maybe Javy hadn’t just been a great friend when he told Jake the rest of the board was very pleased with his latest decisions and changes. Maybe this wasn’t all on him after all.

As Jake opened his mouth to share this revelation with you, a large red light above the door lit up but you ignored it as you continued to stare at Jake expectantly. He nodded towards the light. “What does that mean?”

“That means your hour is up. But we’re not done talking so we’re ignoring it for now. It seemed as if you just had a breakthrough of some kind.”

Jake gave you a small smile. “I think I did. But, uh, I think for now I need to process things first before I talk about it. Can I… Can I come see you again when I’m ready for that?”

You smiled back as you ran your hand down his face and lingered over his lips. “Jake, you can come see me anytime you want, whether you’re ready to talk about it or not. I’m sure we can find other things to occupy the time.” 

You rolled your scantily-clad body into his one final time and stood up off his lap. Holding out your hand, you helped him to his feet. Then, looping your arm through his, you walked with him towards the door. 

When you both reached it, you slid your arm out of his and took a step back. “I have to stay and straighten up a few things but just head back down the hall and you’ll get back to the main room. And I do honestly hope to see you again sometime, Jake.”

“Me too, Des.” Jake reached for the door handle, but he paused just before opening it. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “You’ve known who I was since you walked in here, haven’t you?”

You winced as you grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve known who you were. It’s hard not to recognize Jacob Seresin when his face is plastered all over the tabloids every few months. But I promise you, it doesn’t change anything. What we say or do in here will always be completely just between us. I promise my clients a safe space, and I mean it. It doesn’t matter who you are.”

Well, thank you for being the person I needed tonight.” Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out three bills that he held up. “Just my way of showing my appreciation.” Then he placed them on the table near the door and walked out into the hallway.

As Jake exited into the main room feeling lighter than he had in almost a year, he noticed the man with the clipboard from earlier standing at the other end of the bar laughing with the young brunette bartender. As he approached, the man – Maverick, Jake suddenly remembered – caught his eye and turned to him. “Well, you look like you had a good time.”

Jake smiled softly to himself. “Yeah. I actually did.” Though he had planned on never returning to this place after tonight, his mind flashed to the tender look in your eyes as you promised him he could relax with you. “In fact, I’m going to be making this a weekly thing.”

Maverick chuckled as he picked up his clipboard off the bar. “Sounds like you really enjoyed your time. Alright, I’ll mark you down as one of our exclusive Platinum members. Basically, it guarantees you a room and discounts on drinks and dances, that sort of thing.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, fine, whatever. I don’t care about any of that. However, when I come in, I only want Destiny.” 

Maverick paused mid-note with his pen still pressed against the clipboard as he looked up at Jake. “Sorry, kid. I can’t promise that. It all depends on her schedule and if she’s in the middle of seeing someone else and–”

“I’ll pay triple her rate.”

The other man raised an eyebrow as he continued to stare at Jake. “Damn. I’ve seen plenty of guys hooked before but it usually takes more than one dance.” Shaking his head with a grin, Maverick scribbled something else on the clipboard. “Alright. I’ve made the note.” He looked back up at Jake. “You must see something really special in her, huh?”

Yeah. Jake thought as he remembered your smile and your soft, soothing whispering in his ear and the way you really seemed to see him instead of just a tool to be used despite knowing who he was and the feel of your nails scratching at the base of his neck as you rocked back and forth against his leg and— Oh fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233, @memeorydotcom

[darlingletshurttonight]

a long rant that’s apparently controversial

there was this indian dark academia blog i followed here, and respected that person despite not agreeing on some of their views on certain things. i got into a disagreement with them on tumblr about ncert scrapping off chunks of mughal history from textbooks. they mocked that the board would be teaching us about ‘rig veda and nalanda’. i replied with a comment that there’s more to indic civilisation than the vedas. we should be knowing about a lot of our dynasties and some exceptional rulers before the mughals invaded. it is a fair deal to scrap a bit of sucking up to mughal imperialism and talk about those who made india the candy that it was for invaders, why it was such a hotbed for trade that made it the one of the richest countries to exist in the medieval era. these things are not widely known and they should be known. what kind of history only talks about invaders and not the ones who lived here. why can’t we have both in appropriate measures.

they straight up blocked me lol. they replied to my comment after blocking me, so i couldn’t explain my point to anyone else tagging me and making fun of what i said, which they misinterpreted in the first place. they dug up all my older posts, specifically the hindublr tag and mocked the fact that i think hinduphobia is a real thing.

i’m not mad that these people ridiculed me. i don’t care for their wilful ignorance either. they removed any chance of discourse and want to live in their own bubble of ignorance, fine. there can be people who still disagree with me and that’s okay. i wish people would stop resorting to blind hostility and actually try to read what someone is trying to convey.

it bothers me how they think they’re inclusive at the expense of another community. they (them and their followers) pride themselves on their education and liberalism but don’t seem to know the concept of critical thinking, or conversing with someone they disagree with. how do you villify a person for having an opinion different than yours. an opinion that doesn’t oppress anybody or any community. nothing i said was erasing a community or history.

it concerns me that they’re hell bent on thinking india can be a better place by downplaying the role and significance of hinduism and redact its attempted erasure, when it was literally called hindustan. this isn’t a ‘left vs right’ or ‘religion vs. religion’ or ‘govt vs people’ thing. why is it so hard to believe that religious clashes can go both ways. why is it so hard to go beyond ncert textbooks and agenda-driven historians to actually read about our ancient civilisation. you don’t have to be religious for that.

it was appalling that they they would dig up my older posts on this certain topic to have their followers hate on me. i guess i held them at a higher standard.

my only point was that we shouldn’t always ask “how did mughals rule in this country?”

we should also ask “why was india so sought after by other kingdoms and emperors?”

“who all were involved in making this land so prosperous that it attracted people from all over the world?”

“why should we be proud of our ancestors and not consider this a defeatist nation?”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.2: Accidental Bonding (Part 2)

(You can read part 1 here but basically all you need to know is that Harry and Draco got accidentally bonded on a case and they are coping with the after effects.)

By the end of the first week Harry very much needed a break from Draco Malfoy.

Robbards assigned them to one another as partners for the remainder of the time they were bonded and that meant that they spent what amounted to every moment of every day together. They worked together, went home together, and slept in the same bed together. And they fought every waking moment about nearly everything.

It hadn't helped that all of the other Aurors were constantly taking the piss and Harry was ready to snap.

On Friday afternoon, while Malfoy was in the loo and Harry had a rare moment of privacy, he sent off a patronus to Ron and Hermione asking them to meet him for dinner at the Leaky. Ron's terrier returned not long after, affirming that they'd be glad to meet him.

For the rest of the day, he kept that at the forefront of his mind, the proverbial carrot dangling in front of him as he fought to make it to the end of the work week.

After they arrived home, Harry changed his clothes and came into the living room where Malfoy was sitting on the sofa, then pressed his hand to Malfoy's shoulder until the bond wasn't humming in the back of his mind. "I'm going out," he informed him as he removed his hand

"I don't want to go out," he replied immediately.

He nodded, "Good because I wasn't inviting you with me anyway."

"But the bond-"

"She said that we'd be okay for two hours. I'm just going to go have dinner with Ron and Hermione and then I'll come back."

Malfoy didn't reply, which Harry might have imagined would be an improvement over the bickering but was actually really fucking annoying.

He took a deep breath and then let it out. It wasn't worth it. "Whatever," he grumbled to himself as he stepped back and apparated to the apparation point near the Leaky.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron and Hermione were already at the table near the fire when he arrived and Harry felt something unwind inside of him at the sight of his friends, it felt like coming home when you'd been away for too long.

"Hi," he said as he approached the table.

Hermione stood up and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Thanks," he murmured, hugging her back.

She nodded, "You looked like you could use it."

A humorless chuckle left his throat, "You could say that," he replied.

"Come on," she said, tugging him over to the table.

"I can only stay for a few hours," Harry said, sitting down across from Ron, "The bond-"

"Then let's just have a few hours that feel normal and have nothing to do with Malfoy," Ron said and Harry nodded gratefully.

---------

Only an hour into their dinner, Harry started to feel the tug of the bond, a low thrumming through his gut that made him feel restless. He tried to ignore it and was doing fairly well by the sheer force of his stubbornness when a woman came up to them.

"You're Harry Potter, right?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Yeah," he replied, "that's me."

"It's so nice to meet you," she said, reaching over and laying a hand on his forearm, scarlet fingernails trailing lightly over his skin.

Harry immediately felt queasy, every fiber of his being screaming that this was wrong. "Nice to meet you, too," he said as politely as he could manage, pulling his arm out of her reach.

"Could I-"

"Sorry," Ron interrupted, "But he's a bit busy. We're having dinner, in case you didn't notice."

She glanced at Ron, then looked back at Harry, "Maybe when you're done," she said, "You could join me for a drink at the bar."

"Maybe another time," Harry said, giving her his best smile which he feared turned out more like a grimace as his stomach rolled.

Fortunately she seemed to take the hint, "Well, it was nice to meet you," she said before turning.

"You too," Harry called. "I've got to go," he said as soon as she was out of earshot.

"What?" Hermione asked, "Why?"

"I don't know, something happened with the bond," he muttered. "I feel awful."

"Go on then," Ron said, nodding at him. "We'll see you later.

"Stop by the house tomorrow, if you'd like," Hermione offered.

"Alright," he nodded. "Sorry," he added as he stood up and fled the bar, apparating straight into Malfoy's house.

"Malfoy," he shouted, the moment his feet touched the floor.

The other man groaned from where he was laying on the sofa in the living room, "What the actual fuck did you do?" he managed. "I was fine and then all of the sudden it felt like I was hit by a train."

Harry made his way over to the sofa and since Malfoy didn't seem like he was going to move he did the only thing his brain could come up with. He crawled on top of him, pressing their bodies together and moaning with relief. "Someone hit on me," he said.

"Poor you," Malfoy grumbled, even as one of his arms wrapped around Harry and pulled him in tighter.

"No, I mean that's what caused the spike. She flirted with me and touched my arm and the bond went crazy."

Malfoy hummed, "Interesting," he said. "People have touched both of us and it hasn't caused this."

"Maybe the bond recognizes intent?" Harry questioned.

"Maybe it recognizes your intent," Malfoy mused. "Was she attractive?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe? I didn't really notice."

"Pfft," Malfoy huffed, his breath warm and vaguely pleasant against Harry's ear. "You don't have to lie. I won't be offended."

"I'm serious," Harry protested.

"Look, can we just be honest with each other?" he asked. "It's fine if you thought she was attractive-"

"I'm gay!" Harry blurted, "I'm not lying, she might have been attractive but I genuinely didn't notice."

"You're gay?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, starting to pull away because the bond was still tugging but not unbearable, "Go ahead and start making fun of me, let's just end this horrible wee-"

"I'm not going to make fun of you," Malfoy said.

He looked down at the other man, too surprised to come up with words for a moment. "You're not?"

"Well, it would be pretty hypocritical if I did," he replied.

"You're-?" Harry started.

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder and his fingers trailed mindlessly along Harry's spine, "I'm bi," he said.

"Oh." Harry replied and he settled back against Malfoy, "I didn't know."

"You never asked."

"Well neither did you," he protested.

Malfoy looked at him for a long moment, "I didn't know that I was allowed to."

"Why would I be allowed to ask if you weren't?"

He rolled his eyes, "Because you're Harry Potter and you've always thought that the rules didn't apply to you."

"Come off it," he said. "I live by the same rules everyone else does. If anything, I'm held to a higher standard."

"You're held to a higher standard? Potter, you have no idea what it means to be held to a high standard. I'm an ex-death eater, my every move is scrutinized," Malfoy said. "When I started at the DMLE I was told that if I put 'one toe out of line I'd be put in Azkaban faster than I could say Auror.'"

"Someone said that to you?" Harry asked incredulously.

He huffed a bitter laugh, "Multiple people said that to me. So tell me again about being held to a higher standard, Potter."

"It's different," Harry admitted, "But when I do something wrong I get the lecture about how I'm an example for everyone else. The things that I do are a template for what other people will find acceptable. That sort of...stuff," he finished lamely, trailing off uncomfortably.

"I hadn't thought about that," Malfoy confessed.

"I’m just a person," he said. "And I like to think that I learned to respect boundaries and don't ask overly personal questions-"

"Sorry," Malfoy said, stopping the words coming out of Harry's mouth. "You're right. You aren't sixteen anymore."

His initial instinct was to fight about who'd been worse at sixteen and the words were on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them back, "You're not sixteen anymore either."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth tipped up and they just looked at each other for a long moment before the other man said, "Alright, that's quite enough soul searching. Get off me, Potter. I want to finish my book before bed."

Harry chuckled and climbed off the couch, "I'm going to shower."

"Yes, thank you for the update," Malfoy drawled. "I'll be sure to alert the press."

"Prat," Harry grumbled but it didn't hold the venom that it normally did. He couldn't help but wonder if his improved mood was because of the time he'd spent with his friends or because of the conversation he'd just had with Malfoy.

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

This is going to be a couple more parts- this keeps sucking me in. I'll try to get at least one more part posted today.

Day 125: Accidental Bonding | Part 3

[asterekmess]

Been seeing you getting hate mail and while I absolutely can't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble to make some one else feel bad... I also kinda really love the discourse on Scott? Like YOUR RANTS oh man. On point. Always. Tbh I tried giving Scott a chance... He is the main char after all... But I was like??? Wtf? That dude does nothing but refute others and does whatever he wants. And this was when I didn't particularly like Stiles either (first time watching Teen Wolf). But then I got to know more of him and like Tony he went asshole to lovable asshole—seriously, Stiles might not be the ‘nicest’ but he tries and his heart is in good place—while Scott is just... self-righteous. Someone pointed out that he sees people as possessions and that irks me too that I can actually see it being true. The dude has literally nothing going on except for being the one that gets bitten. And the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance he has.

Okay, okay, where was I going with this?? Right. LOVE YOUR RANTS. People need to understand that Scott not being liked isn't because of his race or anything trivial like it—he just happens to be—but because of his actions. Or inactions, as it were. *remembers the pool scene and Scott saying he's busy and resists the urge to chuck a shoe at him*

Basically, love you, love your work, and love your words! ❤️

I've talked with some friends about it, and our number one issue sort of...boiled down to the hypocrisy of the show? I....sort of rant a lot here, and I would add a Read More, but I can't find the option anymore?? I fucking hate Tumblr. EDIT: I found a post that told me how to do it!

So, since he's the character I focus on the most, let's talk about Stiles' morality. Because, you're right. Stiles is an asshole. He does some fucking awful shit in the first season, and even if he had a Reason to do it, it was still bad. And I still don't like it. But I understand it.

Stiles' lack of shits about what is 'lawful' is literally established in the first ten seconds of the show. He's a sheriff's son who sneaks onto people's roofs in the middle of the night bc they aren't answering his calls, who listens in on his dad's work conversations and is willing to fuck up a crime scene because he's so excited about getting to see a dead body. He doesn't care about laws. He doesn't even care about most basic manners (invasion of privacy much, with having Scott sniff Lydia to see if she liked him?). He's a dickhead, even to the people he cares about sometimes. But personality and morality aren't the same. Stiles' entire actual morality system is based around whatever he needs to do to keep the people he loves safe and happy. Lying to his dad so he doesn't get murdered by hunters? Totally fine. Telling Scott that it was "Jackson's own fault" that Scott attacked him with superstrength and dislocated his shoulder, so Scott doesn't feel like an asshole? That's just best friend duties! He will lie, steal, cheat, and he will kill to keep his loved ones safe (let's not forget this boy threw molotovs at Peter, knowing damn well what they would do to him). We can headcanon all we want about all the different people who are in this group of loved ones, but the list is canonically very short: Scott, his dad, and Lydia. Later on, like, past s3B? It includes Derek. Canonically. Stiles puts his life and the lives of others he cares about on the line while he lies to the matriarch of the Calavera hunter clan, to save Derek Hale. Derek is just canonically a part of that group now, and he fucking knows it bc Stiles is his anchor (that's canon too bb). End of Story, Sterek or no Sterek. It's why we get that insane number of lookbacks when Derek is dying before his evolution. Because Stiles is being forced to choose between two people who are BOTH in his ride-or-die group. He Cannot Pick between Scott and Derek, until Derek begs him to leave.

SO, yes, Stiles does fuckface things, and I don't always agree with what he does, but it is ACCURATE TO HIS CHARACTER. He is morally grey. He NEVER CLAIMS to be pure or good or just or righteous. Stiles knows who he is, and he stays true to himself. And I love him for that.

The same goes for a bunch of other characters! For Peter, who is strikingly similar to Stiles, in that family goes above literally everything. Screw the idea that he was following Derek around waiting for the chance to steal back the Alpha spark. That man put his life on the line (his second life, no less) to get the shit beaten out of him until Derek let him help save Derek's life Again and Again. Family Comes First.

Scott's morality is...confusing as fuck. I thought at first he was similar to Stiles, in that family came first, but...while he's protective of his mother, he also does a lot of stuff that puts her at risk without seeming to care/worry (like leaving Peter alone with her once Stiles hits their car, so he can chase Jackson) (or asking her to come to the high school when he's convinced there's a bomber in it)? Seriously, he's more protective over Allison, than his mother. It's very black and white the rest of the time. Very "this bad" "this good." And if you do "bad" then you are bad forever, while if you do "good" you are only good until you do "bad." The Betas were "good" until they asked for the bite, and then they were "Bad." Derek was "bad" when Scott met him and scared him, so after that, no matter how much "good" he did, he remained "bad." But only when it suits him. Allison is good even when she does bad, because he wants her to be good. Chris is good even though he's done mountains of bad, because of the minuscule amount of good that Scott has seen him do, because Scott wants him to be good. Even DEUCALION is good, despite the crazy CRAZY amount of bad he's done and despite having seen him do NO GOOD, just because Scott wants him to be good. Lying to those closest to you is bad, unless Scott is doing it, and then it's good, because he knows HE is good. Killing people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Letting villains go is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Biting people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Protecting family is good even if it requires killing or lying, unless it's not Scott doing it. Revenge for past slights is good, unless it's not SCOTT doing it. And you try to understand it! You try to say, okay, then he's morally grey, got it. He plays with the rules to suit his own morality, whatever. Except that Scott, the other characters, and THE SHOW ITSELF, are all telling you otherwise! They all say that Scott is morally pure. That he is good and righteous and lawful. That he always does the "right" thing, and that when he does "bad" things, it's justified and he had to. THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES say Scott is somehow better or more righteous than the other characters by MAKING HIM AN ALPHA OUT OF NOWHERE. (I'm talking abt canon here, not going into deaton conspiracy theories) It's like....Like in the hate mail response I did, where I pointed out that Every Single Thing people get angry at Derek for doing, Scott did too. Lying, killing (or at least attempting it), attacking innocents, losing his temper, keeping secrets, refusing to work with someone who could help, etc etc etc. Everything Derek has done that is morally "wrong," Scott has also done. And that's okay! Doing a bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, and even if it did, Scott is ALLOWED to be bad! GO FOR IT.

Except that he is sinless. It isn't that he learns from the bad things he does, it's that they aren't treated like bad things in the first place. Because Scott did it, and Scott always does the right thing.

Derek's behavior is reprehensible at times, but the show ADMITS that and frames it as bad. Frames it as him doing a bad thing when he scares Isaac or throws Peter or tells Erica who to date. And that's fine, because Derek is established as not being morally pure.

But SCOTT IS. And because they were so desperate to make him continue being "Pure" they didn't frame the things he did as wrong, or if they did, they absolved him of it immediately, using the exact same reasoning that works for Derek's situations, but this time Actually Accepting it.

He scares Stiles, well it's because he's scared. He throws Isaac, it's because he's upset. He attacks Jackson well it's because Jackson was being a dick. He orders Allison to date Matt, well he had a goal to accomplish. Every reason is treated like a fucking doctor's note that erases the bad things he does.

Being scared, or angry, or retaliating to someone being an asshole, or trying to protect himself, was NEVER a good enough reason for Derek to do ANYTHING "Bad." It was never an acceptable excuse.

IF IT WERE: If the show were making a statement about how fallable people are, how they do bad things, but they do them for a REASON. How people will do wild and terrible things out of fear, and how that doesn't make it less bad, but it makes it understandable, so don't demonize them out of nowhere. If that were the case, I would HAVE BEEN FINE WITH IT.

Scott is held to COMPLETELY different standards than everyone else in the show! And I DON'T mean that people held him to higher ones. They dropped that bar so fucking low. Anything was allowed, and any excuse was good enough.

He made out with a girl who was dating someone else, who his best friend was in love with? It's just the full moon, he's angsty about losing Allison. He ducttapes Liam to a bathtub and starts throwing random phrases at him that he hated Derek for saying to him? He's freaked out! He doesn't know what to do with a bitten wolf! It was an accident! He works with a mass murderer behind people's backs without telling them the whole story? Am I talking about Gerard or Deucalion? Who fucking knows. Either way, it's okay, because he was protecting his family. He plots to murder a cancer patient slowly and painfully by replacing meds that likely included painkillers with mountain ash, and the uses someone else's body to deliver the killing blow, and it's okay because he was just being smart! He was just working ten steps ahead! He was saving his mom and the whole town! Who cares if it DIDN"T WORK?

He walks into his ex-girlfriend's hotel room and scares the SHIT out of her while she's naked and alone in the shower? It was the wolfsbane. It doesn't matter that no one else's impulses included HARASSING someone. He lies to his girlfriend's face about her own life because he doesn't think it's important enough for her to know (who am I talking about, come on, take a guess, which one is it? Allison or Kira? Trick question: it's both). He was just being kind! He didn't want to worry her! He didn't want to make her feel bad! She didn't need to know!

I'm so far off track it's not even funny. My point was that Everything the other characters in the show are demonized for or framed as evil or bad or wrong for doing, Scott is shown to do and it's treated like at minimum a comedy, if not a Perfect Brilliant Strategic Move.

God, fucking hell. I mean, the PARALLELS you see in this show, between Scott and others. The scene of Alexander Argent going to the hotel after being bit? That bit where he pulls his shirt up in the mirror? It's a near PERFECT replica of Scott looking at his bite at Deaton's. They paralleled SCOTT MCCALL with AN ARGENT. Deaton has this whole line in S2 where he's bitching at Derek about "the person you should trust the most doesn't trust you at all" And then seasons later, we have Scott look his best friend in the eye and refuse to trust him, only to get upset later because Stiles doesn't want to work with him anymore and he "lost them." Scott goes running into Derek's house in S1 to accuse him of killing the bus driver, and when he can't get a real response, he EGGS HIM ON by accusing him of Murdering his SISTER, just to get Derek to react. Which is the EXACT same thing Kate did when she showed up and wanted Derek to lose his temper. Scott is CONSTANTLY paralleled with villains and assholes, and constantly does the things that others are persecuted for. But instead of feeling regret or learning something from it, instead of growing AT ALL. Those actions are treated as good. We are told they are righteous. And clever. That they are what heroes do. AND YES: There are parallels between Derek and Stiles' behaviors and villains/morally grey characters! Of course there are!

BUT THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRUE ALPHA MAIN CHARACTER. SCOTT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUY. HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MIMIC/EMULATE THE VILLAINS, AND HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REWARDED WHEN HE DOES IT ANYWAY.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I understand the urge to think that the Teen Wolf writers did all of this on purpose. That they built Scott up as an unreliable narrator, so that we're forced to come to terms with a protagonist who isn't good, and we watch them fall into a villainous role while thinking all the while they are a hero. That all these parallels are intentional and the writers just couldn't Tell us what was going on bc they didn't have enough power.

And sometimes I play into it. I will lie to myself about Scott being the 'narrator' of the entire show, and that we're seeing it all through his eyes so of course things are biased and conflicting, just so I can actually Enjoy watching it.

But I think it's absolute bullshit that this was done on purpose. It wasn't. The parallels appeared because they Wanted Scott to do the badass things that they had all the villains doing, throwing people and being sneaky and clever, and stopping the bad guy, and they didn't want to deal with the fact that they were having him do bad things. So they just pretended he wasn't and refused to acknowledge that they'd already punished other people for doing the same exact shit, but somehow Scott was getting rewarded. They wanted Scott to be the hero, so they made him the hero, and screw everybody else.

[kariachi]

Random Incursean headcanons time!

Yes, I know, I’ll apparently do anything to keep from making progress on the fucking Lenopan.

Incurseans only live for about 20 years. As of OV Attea’s just under 4, which is the Incursean adulthood cut-off. Milleus, meanwhile, is about 12, the equivalent of middle-aged.

It’s rare for the Emperor to have only one child and Milleus is no different- Attea has multiple siblings, both older and younger, but in true Incursean Royalty fashion she’s removed any threats to her position through various means.

Despite that being the norm though, it’s not terribly rare for siblings to team up and co-rule the Empire. This is normally seen in multiple, but not always, and will be the case for Attea’s heirs.

Marrying to show off is common among the higher ranks of Incursean society. While love matches aren’t unheard of, and are in fact common amongst the commonfolk, those of higher social status arrange their own marriages based on how the match reflects back on them. Hence Attea’s going after Ben- nothing says ‘I’m top frog’ like taking the greatest hero in the galaxy, posterboy of your Empire’s enemies, and making him your arm candy

Despite having no homeworld, and a large amount of conquered planets, the Incurseans don’t tend to live on the planets they’ve taken over. They demand vast amounts of taxes under threat of destruction, but often once their hold on a planet is secure and outside aid is cut off, they just leave. Sort’ve the equivalent of demonic beekeepers- everything is established? Great, we’ll be back later to take our payment and make sure everything’s how we want it, bye.

The Incursean population instead lives on spaceships supported by their conquered worlds.

The Empire is divided up best into Held Planets/Systems, Military Fleet, Base Fleet, Auxiliary Fleets, Trade Fleet, and Tax Fleet.

The Military Fleet is as it sounds and includes the Imperial Flagship, carrying the majority of military personnel and serving as the active conquering and territory-securing force.

The Base Fleet sits at the center of the Empire and consists mostly of civilians, as do the Auxiliary Fleets, though they’re more scattered throughout the Empire’s territory.

The Trade and Tax fleets, accompanied by military escorts, travel the Empire, and in the case of the trade fleet outside of the Empire. The Trade Fleet is as it sounds, managing trade within the Empire and between the Empire and it’s allies, while the Tax Fleet exists specifically to procure taxes from conquered worlds and deliver them to either the Trade Fleet or the Base Fleet.

Yes, the Incurseans do have allies. Not many, but a few.

Incursean standards of beauty, for both sexes, lean very much towards ‘bigger is better’. Milleus, by Incursean standards, has the body of a fucking god.

Your average Incursean soldier isn’t underweight enough to have a serious negative impact, but a combination of high activity, carefully crafted ‘healthy as possible’ diets, and the universal ‘we want to feed them as cheaply as possible’ thing militaries tend to do, means that especially the ground troops and lower ranks fail to maintain the bulk civilians and the higher ranks have.

Civilians, meanwhile, eat very well, and alongside other benefits one of the ways the military is kept stocked is via access to better food for the dependents of Incursean soldiers. For an Earth comparison, imagine being in the military means you’re living off straight rice and beans for 90% of your meals, but in exchange your kids are guaranteed fresh produce and the best meats and dairy at every meal.

An egg-laying species, though unlike the similarly amphibian Galvans Incurseans only produce one to two eggs as a time and don’t go through a tadpole phase. They do, for the first few months, ride about on their parents though, until they figure out walking. Unlike Erinaens, they don’t really climb about during this period, and instead just sort’ve cling.

Most Incursean parents submerge themselves in water with their infants, allowing the infants to strengthen their legs via paddling while remaining securely attached.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

BTS and the Billboard Article

I am once again not surprised by the online behavior of I-Army when it comes to what is considered a so called negative perspective from journalists in regards to BTS, and the latest Billboard piece is a clear example of that. It seems that the main issue was the mention of Armys bulk buying and mass streaming, something that was not written as a shade, with no room to respond, as it was done transparently, by directly asking BTS and giving them a chance to respond to such allegations, which RM did:

“It’s a fair question,” says RM of allegations that ARMY’s work amounts to chart manipulation. “But if there is a conversation inside Billboard about what being No. 1 should represent, then it’s up to them to change the rules and make streaming weigh more on the ranking. Slamming us or our fans for getting to No.1 with physical sales and downloads, I don’t know if that’s right ... It just feels like we’re easy targets because we’re a boy band, a K-pop act, and we have this high fan loyalty.”

The interviewer mentioned a phenomenon that is prevalent in this band's fandom. And since Army has reached a global scale, their impact is much higher than those of other bands or solo artists. There is nothing wrong with trying to examine and understand the power, impact and involvement of a powerful fandom.

There are several problems with the online responses. No, BTS and consequently Army are not the only ones who are ''called out'' for such practices. This is not a vendetta towards a K-Pop band, as much as fans would like to spin it only in that way. And I guess people would know such things if they would only read other articles. With a simple google search, we can find several pieces, such as articles on the problems that come with streaming practices, as you can find here in a Rolling Stone piece and here in a Billboard article. Rolling Stone has also written about Payola and this Washington Post article on the Billboard Charts deserve an extensive reading, since it focuses on the questioning of Billboard charts as a barometer for success, mentioning practices in connection to Drake and Kanye West and what it means to give such a high importance to charts:

“If you’re looking at charts to understand music history, the best analogy is using statistics to understand sports history,” Klosterman said. “You’re looking at something that numerically seems simple but it’s completely impacted and changed by the era it comes from.”

Plus, he added, like all statistics, “charts can be used in any way you want them to be.”

“It does seem that as often as the charts are used to validate someone’s importance, they’re just as often used to show that temporary interest in any kind of art is ephemeral and kind of meaningless,” Klosterman said, pointing to Prince and Led Zeppelin as an example. One could easily point to Prince’s five No. 1 hits as proof of his pop dominance. Simultaneously, one could point to the fact that Led Zeppelin never had a No. 1 hit as proof that singles don’t matter, since they’ve become one of the most pervasive rock bands in American history.’’

Do people really think that when it comes to Western artists, they don't get negative reviews for their singles and albums? That everyone is held on a pedestal all the time? Or the fact that indie artists are ignored so many times? That the Western music industry is not held into question? Bigger bands throughout music history have gotten negative reviews written in Rolling Stone magazine, while their albums still sold, they packed stadiums and still had a loyal fanbase. Just as BTS. So if Army wants to go with this narrative, then they better do their research and not act like they know in depth how journalism works. A piece like the Billboard one was thoroughly researched, with multiple sources, something that the interviewer has done. He reached out to Hybe representatives, asked directly the BTS members and used twitter as a source, which is legitimate. That's the online space where Army and fans of other artists reside, especially since the issue in question happens on twitter. The posts are public which means they can be used as reference. This is not uncommon, since it's a more direct way to see what fans are thinking.

Another aspect that was considered problematic was bringing into discussion military enlistment. First of all, it's a reality and ignoring it won't make it disappear. Second of all, it makes sense that enlistment was mentioned in connection to the future of Hybe and their artists and its financial consequences. BTS brings money. The music industry it's not all about music artistry, but a business as well, and the focus of the article was very clear on that. Why this aspect is so important when it comes to BTS and the criticism was that it's not brought into attention with other K-Pop bands, is that BTS find themselves in a different situation, given their cultural/financial impact. If we hold BTS at a different standard, then it makes sense for such a discussion in an interview to take place.

Lastly, I would like to point out that one of the worst outcomes of this situation was to see the online reaction which, again, consisted of threats towards the interviewer, posts demanding people to not buy the magazine, which is ludicrous because I believe people should be allowed to think for themselves. This is where Army influence makes its presence and how powerful it can be in making other fans simply follow, without question, what others deem as a ''correct'' type of action.

I guess it's uncomfortable when a fandom is put on the spotlight and it's unfortunate that Army, as a global force cannot act in a way that doesn't have to resume to threats and outrage, instead of trying to actually understand what was written and really think about it. There were so many aspects brought up in that article beyond the Army issue, which indeed makes it valuable. From opening up on the disbandment issue in 2018, difficulties and reluctance to sing only in English, talks about legacy and the impact such a stardom has on them as individuals. BTS know how to defend themselves and it seems they do the same when it comes to their fans, as we have witnessed in the responses given to the questions. Army doesn't have to be this defender for 7 rich grown men and especially in such a shameful manner. Maybe a double down on the savior complex is needed sometimes.

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail finale — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution, slightly more graphic physical violence in this part (it’s brief but beware) 

Authors Note: here's the finale peeps! hope you like how I ended everything off! as usual, let me know what you think of this story and a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Nectar Oak still had the same atmosphere as it did all those years ago. The smell of allspice flowers and jasmines, plumes of smoke flowing out of the customers’ mouth as their wallets emptied and cheeks glowed from excitement. All the workers held themselves up with the elegance of a geisha despite knowing they’d never be considered to such a standard. You looked up at the height of the building. How much bigger it looked when your mother used to hold your hand walk you around the streets just for some fresh air.

You felt like a ghost eerily wandering the place an old part of you died. You didn’t miss it but you could feel her. The innocence of hoping that you’d never have to work here and the relief of finding a better life. Not the best life. It was still filled with tears and suffering but at least here, she was in power. And she had the people she loved.

Silk red robe draped upon your form, resemblant of a traditional hanbok twisted and ‘modernized’ to create an erotic appeal. Golden vectors curled to accentuate your waist, the band covered your torso to enhance the curve of you breasts and you hair loosely tied by a gold clip encrusted in emeralds. You habitually touched your finger but found it empty, a small twinge of anxiety grew heavy in your chest.

*With a deep reluctant breath, you pulled off your wedding ring, hugging it to your chest before carefully placing it in a jewelry box for safe keeping.

When Yoongi saw you, a cold wave washed over him. Like the cruel turns of time twisted back to those days where he felt the walls closing in on him. Preventing him from holding onto his parents’ legacy for his mother and building his own family. His heart already dropped into the pit but he still noticed the ache. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.*

The owner of Nectar Oak became one of your connections. A solid reminder that things were not as it used to be. You talked to him like you were his equal rather than a worker. He also had enough brains to know he wasn’t talking to a random worker anymore. He was speaking to someone who could break his business in a blink. The thought of it caused sweat to drop on the sides of his temple.

“You know how to promote me, Jung,” you spoke as you two sat in his office. “Just do what you do best and your building will stay safe and funded.” A smile tugged at your lips, sadness gripping your gaze but you knew well to hide it from the likes of his kind.

Yoongi secluded himself in one of the courtesan rooms. He sat on the velvet couch, shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette between his fingers, burning eyes fixated on the cameras set up inside Nectar Oak. Particularly targeting you and Jungkook.

The man-child arrived in a half hour. Exactly on time. Black dress shirt and his cheeks sucking in an almost burnt out cigarette, dark hair messy and damp with the look of someone who was given everything he wanted. He blew the plume of smoke as he eyed the courtesans dressed in coloured silk.

Jung, the plump owner of the courtesan house pranced over to Jungkook with a jovial smile. “Welcome, sir!”

“Jung.” Jungkook grinned, leaning against the emerald marble counter. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Only the finest, Master Jeon.” Jung chortled, grabbing the hardcover book designed in teal and gold vectors. Inside were different pictures and descriptions of all the patrons that lived in the current courtesan house. “We have your favourite selections of curvy and petite as you well know. There’s also the special treatments if you require a little more spice.”

Jungkook scanned the book with an air of a teenager seeing a picture of a naked woman for the first time. Hungry eyes finally stopped and stared at one picture. “Who is she?”

“Uh—oh, she’s not quite available yet, sir.”

Hunger turned to determination. “Why not?”

“Well—see her prices—she’s one of our most risky patrons.”

“You’re saying I can’t afford her?”

“No, no no no!” Jung chuckled nervously without hitch of losing his act. “It’s just—only a select amount of customers have actually been able to have a session with her. She has her own ground rules, you see and some extremely challenging—eh—punishments if those rules are abided by. Experienced employee benefits.”

Yoongi had to hand it to him for his marketing skills. Anyone like Jungkook would love a challenge if someone thought they couldn’t do it.

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said. “Whatever the price.”

“Oh, sir—”

“I don’t like waiting, Jung. Let’s not taint this friendship we have, hm?” Jungkook narrowed his gaze.

Jung let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course, sir. I will call her down.” He pressed on one of the buttons at his desk.

Yoongi heard the buzz from the vanity table where you sat.

You stood up from the chair, walking out of the room without sharing a glance at Yoongi so you could steel yourself. The time for softness wasn’t now.

Walking down the wooden stairs, even the echoes of your shoes were too familiar. Time rewound, bringing you right back where you started. No. You mentally shook your head and raised your chin. Your presence lit up the room, silencing the younger members and alerting the other customers. The silk train left behind exuded an air of magic, like wildflowers growing at your every step.

All the illusion of a trained courtesan in this country.

Jungkook stared at you, hunger burning in his eyes as he stamped the cigarette on the silver ashtray lain on the counter.

“Master Jeon,” you said, bowing in front of him. “Pleasure to be of your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook spoke with the delicacy of a lover but the fire of a conqueror. “Jung here holds you to high regard in this establishment.” He walked close to your form until he towered over you, feeling the filmsy satisfaction for seeing your gaze lift for him. “I’m excited to see what the mystery is all about.”

You side-eyed Jung with a calculated smug smile, reddened lips and eyes moist. “He’s an enthusiastic man but not a liar, I assure you. One doesn’t make a room stand still like this without having a few skills under her skirt.” Your cheeks glowed like polished jewels.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “That’ll be all, Jung.”

Jung bowed with a wide grin and walked away.

You held onto Jungkooks’ hand. “This way, sir.” Nervousness faded completely as the mission at hand became your first priority. The scent of opium was thick around Jungkooks’ form as he shifted closer, nudging his nose in your hair slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Master Jeon.”

“Oh? Nice things I hope.”

“Tales of conquering the higher ups and standing up for the street dwellers.” You looked over your shoulder. “You’re a hero amongst the whispers of the alley.”

If confidence had a physical form, it’d be like gold oozing down Jungkooks’ ears and mouth like tears and slobber after sex. He was young. His nerves were easy to tug and manipulate to your whim. “Do you think I’m a hero?”

You hummed with a cheeky shrug. “I like physical proof of things rather hearsay. Lingers more on the mind.”

“I can fix that soon.” Jungkook moved his hand over to your waist, squeezing and digging into the skin. You tried not to wince. “And when I’m done with you, you can watch the chaos I created soon.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ve achieved a magnificent feat of having the Queen of Gae Pa herself…” He pressed his lips against your ears. “…giving herself over to me.”

A tiniest twinge of anxiety tugged at the back of your mind but you stayed steady. “Was I really that obvious?”

“If I could steal all of the most powerful gangs’ precious items, I think I could recognize your face.” Jungkook traced a finger down your cheek. “Must say you’re a thousand times more beautiful than your pictures.” He moved his fingers down to the curve of your breasts. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

The anxiety that tugged now flooded your entire body, hot rushing in then freezing. All in confusing pattern until your head started spinning. Glossed eyes blinked slowly and your chin raised, staying strong.

“I have my own spies too,” Jungkook whispered. “There’s alleys and streets everywhere. Enough sorry souls to do anything for a new life. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do you have her with you?”

“Oh no…I’m not that evil.” Jungkook jutted his lips out. “She can stay happily in that cute safehouse. Except there’s eyes always on her.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A neutral expression on your face. “What’s your negotiation?”

“Nothing special. Just for all the Dons to pledge themselves to me.” Jungkook shrugged. “Especially Don Kim and your husband.” He tilted his head. “You also know just as much as I do that I have every measure possible to ensure they won’t say no.” Palm traced up her back to her neck. “And I also require your mind. Despite my little street friends running around, you have the most connections known to the underworld. Your body could be a wild bonus.” He smirked.

You raised your chin, breath sucked in and stuck in your throat. “I don’t want to talk in the hallway. Everything is being recorded.” You spoke under your breath.

Jungkook hummed as you brought him towards the bedroom.

Yoongi refrained from trying to break another mug of coffee. Instead he listened carefully. Anxiety shook through his body hearing a stranger—no, their fucking rival—speak of their daughter. But he knew what had to be done. Eyes sharp, he flickered his gaze over to the corner of the courtesan room. The bed adorned in red and gold silk sheets held a figure, both arms tied to the bedposts and his mouth gagged with cloth, stained with the blood from his fresh glistening wounds.

He stood up from his chair, hands dug in his pockets as he examined the heaving body. “You’re up, Kim.” A sinister smile flashed to Taehyung. Silent reminder on who held one of the underworlds’ pillars. The lead alpha of this country. That same terrifying individual now stood here, heated with anger and the urge to protect his family sent sizzles throughout the room.

Taehyung blinked slowly as the realization hit him.

Jungkook wasn’t coming out of here unscathed.

***

It was the best news you received in a while. They found him. Kim Taehyung.

Your notes at the auction managed to help the spies track down the buyer. Apparently they wanted to be rid of it after hearing of the murders in the other gangs. They kept it hidden in their backyard instead of displaying it. You took it off their hands and sent it to Jwi Pa.

Despite their current clean slate, the gang still had the best trackers. You needed them to find the elusive auctioneer. The moment they saw the ledger in your gloved hand, they were putty. Any request and they would abide.

Kim Taehyung lived in a private estate personally gifted by Jeon Jungkook once he rebuilt Mal Pa to its former glory. As soon as his location was exposed, it took only a couple of minutes of breaking through security and having the man in their grasp. Jungkooks’ weak spot.

Nor Yoongi or Namjoon were happy to see him. Both of them failed to push back their punches but they knew enough to keep him alive.

“There’s a high chance Jungkook will know my face,” you said.

“So send someone else,” Namjoon suggested.

Yoongi tightened his jaw, not wanting to admit the truth that was right in front of him. “She’ll know what to do better than anyone.”

“You have so many talented spies!” Namjoon gestured wildly. “Fucking hell, I hate that I’m the one who has to admit it.”

“A scenario, Namjoon.” You intertwined your fingers together. “If Jungkook sees through the operation, what do you think they’ll do to a faceless spy?”

“If it’s her then Jungkook will be distracted.” Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists.

“Well enough for me to actually bring him to the room whether he finds out or not.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it so annoying that it’s a good idea?”

“For the first time, Kim, I agree.”

You gave them both sharp looks. “We end this now. No hitches.”

***

Opening the door, Yoongi noticed your glossed eyes. He wanted to hold you right there and then but there was still work to be done. Yoongi knew partly you were maintaining an act. It wouldn’t finish until the curtains were closed.

“Don Min!” Jungkooks’ lips stretched ear to ear. Expression bright and confident of the achievement right in his grasp. In a split second, his gaze flickered over to the tied figure. The golden tones of his skin lost its vibrancy, grin disappeared and his eyebrows in the realization of the bleeding man. “Tae—”

Taehyungs’ groans and screams muffled by the soaked cloth. Eyes flooded with tears as Namjoon closed the door behind Jungkook. There was no way to escape.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder. Both the leaders of Gae and Sutal Pa together in the same room. Caging him in. Namjoon had a satisfied smirk, dragging the stone mallet towards him.

Out of instinct, Jungkook pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it to your chest. A sense of accomplishment rushed through him when he saw Yoongi raise his gun frantically. He could do this. All that progress to come this far from a street rat to a gang leader. It couldn’t all end here in a second. It was too quick. He needed to breathe. "Want to see which bullet reaches first?”

Taehyung protested through his cloth, struggling out of the rope.

You pushed Jungkooks’ hand to the side with your left hand, causing a stress shot to speed past your shoulder. Right ear ringing, you used your other hand to reach for the grip. Gun now in clasped in your hand, end of the barrel pointed at Jungkooks’ heart.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate taking a shot at Jungkooks’ leg, causing him to drop on his knees with a pained grunt.

Namjoon chuckled with a raspy tone, raising his stone mallet. “What a good day.” He slammed the mallet on Jungkooks’ calf. The crack and scream that came afterwards was one that could haunt you at night. But it was nothing new in the underworld. You try to break the underworld pillars, they’ll break you back ten times worse. It was the law in this hell.

You watched Jungkook thrash on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor. Mixed with Taehyungs’ loud sobbing. It was a nursery rhyme of nightmares. Melodies of suffering that will melt into the walls of the courtesan house. No one will speak of it but they’ll know. They’ll never forget.

***

The new dawn arrived golden and the birds sung the continuous reign of Gae and Sutal Pa. Mal Pa was once again broken down into chaos as their usurper leader stepped away from his position and hid away after the two gangs made their example clear. Taehyung, still healing from his own wounds, opted to stick by Jungkooks’ side. The new looming darkness over their faces were hard to miss.

“If it’s worth anything, Jeon, you did good.” Yoongi stood over him on the stretcher. “Just not good enough.”

Jungkook stayed silent, gaze averted to focus on Taehyungs’ shirt. “Might not be me but someone else’ll come back to do the same thing. You can’t reign forever.”

The diamond ending of every underworld devil. Every gang had it. That one day when everything falls apart before their eyes and there was nothing to do about it. A fate worse than assassination.

Sun peaked through the buildings, framing Yoongis’ silhouette and casting warmth on his cool cheek. “It’s true. But when it does, it’s gonna be by my hand.”

Jungkook blinked over at him in confusion.

Yoongi smirked, gently tapping his shoulder. “Get well.” That day for Yoongi wasn’t to be shut down by another gang or a new leader. But to throw the match in himself and see it all burn. The beautiful end to his diamond trail.

Jungkook and Taehyung were moved to secluded area, away from any kind communication with the underworld.

Street dwellers will be loyal to anyone that could promise them something good. Now that Jungkook couldn’t provide it anymore, they scurried like rats under Yoongi or Namjoons’ wing. The underworld, even in the top ranks was cruel and brutal, leaving no mercy for even the good-hearted.

When you arrived back to the manor, the first thing was to remove the god awful dressing from the courtesan house. You draped back into your work dress, letting out a sigh of relief that it was all a play.

Namjoon paid a small visit to cast a farewell. Shaded eyes scanned across the mansion, admiring the architecture and paintings. Or just staring at them to avoid eye contact with Yoongi. “So European.”

“My mother grew up travelling between France and Italy,” Yoongi said. He dug his hands into his trousers. “She really liked all the architecture of the old buildings.” His heart swelled remembering the years after their father passed away. They found a new venue and spent over a year just working on the house. It was the most time they had ever spent alone without any kind of distractions from their father.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—what happened to your mother?” Namjoon asked. “She was quite young when she married.”

Yoongi hummed, a sad smile tugged on his face. “She wasn’t well for a long time. Since she gave birth at a young age, the stress of it had lot of side effects in the long term. She held out long enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to live with my father alone.”

Namjoons’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. Having a good family member in the household is already a rarity in itself. I can’t imagine losing them.”

In the small silence, you stepped down the stairs. You met the two men with a kind smile, fingers intertwined together. “Nice to see you two playing nicely.”

Yoongi smiled. “Of course.”

You, Namjoon and Yoongi padded outside of the manor into the afternoon light. The black SUV glinted and the guards looked like insects scurrying to their positions so that Namjoon was protected.

Pausing at the end of the entrance stairs, Namjoon turned to face the two of you. “It was fun working with you—just lighten up a little more.”

“Not a chance,” Yoongi stated plainly. “But—it was good not being at war for once.”

Namjoon smirked, eyes flickered to you with a softened expression. “Good day, my lady.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as the male turned on his heel and climbed into his SUV. A sense of relief washed over your form. Yoongi took your hand and escorted you back into the comforts of the manor.

“The diamond gun is back in its original place.” Yoongi let out a long exhale, emptying his chest of the anxiety. “I can take a fucking nap now.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A silent reminder that nothing was lost in this fight. You were safe and your childs’ location was still unknown to everyone else. “I know what you were doing.”

“You did?” A smile stretched across your lips.

“Taehyung was just a final tick.” Yoongi led you over to the couch, settling down with a deep sigh. “Jungkook was more terrified at the fact that Namjoon and I actually worked together.”

“If you two fought then both the pillars would’ve been crumbling. Easy for Jungkook to break.” You traced your fingers across his raven fringes. “Maybe you two should stop bickering so much. Just in case another street dweller comes in to hurt you.”

“One step at a time, my love.” Yoongi smiled, throwing his head back against the couch. “How’s Jewel?”

Jewel was her nickname. Her eyes shone even when there was no light reflecting off them. Maybe it was just their rosy lenses but you didn’t care. “She’s been moved to another safehouse. She says she’s happy.”

“Good.” Yoongi nodded. “That’s good.” He held onto your hand and kissed it. “We’ll all be together soon for the holiday. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You raised a brow.

Yoongi loved his new family.

<< prev chap | 

[aquietwritingcorner]

Sicktember Day 26: Strep Throat/Laryngitis Word Count: 1176 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, Team Mustang Warning: Summary: Hawkeye has Laryngitis. A general is expecting her to give a demonstration speech, or it will reflect poorly on Mustang. Luckily, Havoc has an idea! Notes: AO3 || ff.net

__________________________________________

Laryngitis

Hawkeye coughed, and then tipped up the glass to drink some more. She made an awful face as she did, but kept drinking it, stopping halfway through. Then she cleared her throat and opened her mouth.

“Hhhhh…”

The men in the room all sat back, frustration and disappointment clear on their faces.

“Well, that’s it, then. We’ve tried every quick fix that we can,” Mustang said. “Hawkeye’s laryngitis isn’t going to clear up.”

“What does that mean about her presentation, sir?” Falman asked.

Mustang frowned. “We’ll have to cancel and reschedule or get someone else to do it.”

Breda shook his head. “That’s not going to work, and you know it. General Wallace has you in his crosshairs. He expects Hawkeye to give this class to the sniper corps and no one else. If she doesn’t, or it has to be rescheduled, he’s going to take it out on you.”

Mustang huffed. “I know, but what else can we do?” He glanced at Hawkeye, who looked apologetic, and shook his head. “No, don’t feel bad, Lieutenant. It isn’t as if you had any control over it. We’ll just have to figure out what to do.”

No one said anything, no solutions to the problem jumping to mind. General Wallace was one of the higher ranked generals. He wasn’t high enough to be on the council, but he was well placed. He happened to be friendly with General Hakuro, which meant that neither of them was especially fond of Mustang. They took any misstep, any slight, and blew it up as high as it would go. He was here in Central, and had decided to throw his weight around a little, bullying a situation into Hawkeye giving a demonstration and talk to the sniper corps. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but she knew when she had no choice, and would do it to maintain Mustang’s position.

An unfortunate bought of laryngitis was putting all of that into jeopardy, though.

“It’s too bad there’s not a way to transmit your thoughts to them,” Fuery said with a sigh.

Havoc sat up straighter. “Wait—actually, that might not be a bad idea.”

All heads swiveled to him.

“Look, one of the key components of working on the field is non-verbal communication, right? You can’t always hear your teammates. We all know the standard codes that they teach us, but once you’re in the field, one of the biggest differences is how well you can read your team, right? What if, instead of Hawkeye speaking, she stays quiet and brings in someone else on the team to translate for her—showing that getting to know your teammates is paramount in doing your job well.”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Mustang said, rubbing his chin. “Of course, I would be the best—”

He cut off as Hawkeye swung her arm up, pointing at Havoc.

“Hey—what! No way! You know that you and I read each other very we—”

She turned on him, hands on her hips, jaw set, and a glare in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly and sunk her head down just a bit as if emphasizing something. She moved her head around a bit and let out a huff through her nose.

“Yeah, well…” Mustang trailed off, and then he sighed. “Yes… yes, of course, you’re right. It would make things too obvious.” He glanced at Havoc. “Think you can do it?”

Havoc grinned “If I don’t, I’m sure she’ll shoot me to tell me I’ve got it wrong.”

Hawkeye rolled her eyes and spun on her heel go back to her desk.

Havoc didn’t have to be a genius to know an exasperated yes when he saw one.

The day of the presentation dawned a bit cool and cloudy. Havoc and Hawkeye were already waiting on the shooting range, Havoc a bit nervous that he’d agreed to all of this. She smiled at him, though, patting his shoulder for reassurance.

It helped a little.

All too soon, General Wallace and the group with him came pouring onto the training grounds. Havoc and Hawkeye both saluted and, as soon as he allowed them to release their salutes, Havoc started talking.

“Good morning, General Wallace. We’re going to—”

“What is this!” Wallace demanded. “We’re here to be taught by the legendary Hawk’s Eye, not you.”

“Yes, sir,” Havoc said. “But if you’ll just—”

Wallace’s attention switched to Hawkeye. “Lieutenant, I demand that you take over teaching this class immediately, as promised.”

Hawkeye, her gaze, cool, sure, and steely, held up a finger, as if asking the general to wait a moment, the gestured to Havoc. The general looked ready to blow again, but Havoc took over anyway.

“As I was saying,” he said, “Lieutenant Hawkeye decided to take a bit of an unorthodox approached to teaching this class. She’s not only going to talk about the fundamentals of being a sniper, of care for your weapon, of common knowledge that you learn on the field, but she’s going to put an emphasis on how knowing your teammates can help a sniper function better. This will be demonstrated in the way that we have learned to read each other. I will be speaking for Lieutenant Hawkeye, and she’ll let me know if I miss anything or mess anything up.” He glanced at her. “But hopefully not by shooting me.”

The assembled students laughed, and Hawkeye shot him a look.

“Ah, yes… She’s currently reminding me of rule number one: Never aim at a target if you’re not willing to shoot said target. That’s followed by rule two: If you’re willing to shoot a target, accept that you can kill the target.”

Hawkeye nodded, pleased, and then turned around, sniper rifle in hand.

“Alrighty,” Havoc said. “Who’s ready to start with general gun knowledge, care, and safety!”

The lesson took up all of the morning and stretched into the afternoon, Havoc spoke for Hawkeye the entire time, and not once slipped up. Hawkeye, for her part, demonstrated things extraordinarily well. Even their demonstration of being able to read each other in the field went swimmingly. They could tell that General Wallace wasn’t pleased, as it wasn’t what he was expecting, but it was hard to deny that teaching the lesson that way had done good. The students walked away with a new appreciation of reading body language and their team.

By the time it was over, they were both tired and hungry, and more than ready to pack it up.

“You know,” Havoc said as they gathered their things and started walking. “That wasn’t so bad. We’ve got a real rapport going on!”

Hawkeye glanced at him, smiled, and nodded.

“…If you ever wanna leave Mustang, I think you and I could—”

Hawkeye gave him a sharp shove, hard enough to send him stumbling, but Havoc just laughed, knowing that Hawkeye knew that he was teasing.

Sometimes it was nice to know that your team could read you and had your back.

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

Gnostic inspirations in Przybyszewska’s works

At the highest point of her intellectual life, Stanisława Przybyszewska spent over 12 hours each day simply on writing her own works, continously, and with maniacal care, educating herself on absolutely everything (she was constantly looking for fields in which she might be a natural genius) and she rarely did anything else at all, which included things like earning a wage or sweeping her own floors. The effect of such existence was of course that she was severely depressed, but also thoroughly educated. It means that traces of whatever matter from history or philosophy can be spotted in her works, are most likely intentional and put there exactly with the hopes of showing her erudice.

One of such matters was gnosticism. Gnosticism is a set of beliefs which put emphasis on obtaining liberation from this life through gnosis (knowledge) and cast aside all that is not of the mind – so not only the flesh, but also the spirit. Without going into details of some specific gnostic rite it is simpler to say that gnostics value gnosis higher than any of their base beliefs and teachings (in Europe gnostics are mostly mentioned in relation to early christianity, Cathars are an example of this). Then the contrast one can find within religion (for example sin and liberation from it) is replaced with earthly illusion and gnosis, which frees one from the illusion and guarantees a higher level of life, of sorts (in gnostic beliefs, our presence on Earth is not linear, leading from birth, through life and death to afterlife, but resembles more of a ladder, with each rung leading closer to obtaining total knowledge, and simultenously losing all that tethers one to earthly illusions.

In literature, strong contrasts are a good indication we can look into it to spot gnostic inspirations or at the very least make a strong case they could be there, even if unintentional. In Przybyszewska's case, however,  they are all the more probable, for I vaguely recall she was well aware of the presence of these beliefs and everything she wrote on the nature of genius points in the same direction, too. She held these beliefs in her own, private set of core values, and there isn't any better place for her to show them to us but through her works. She presented us with an utopian vision of mental progress in her plays, while in her prose works, she focused on the darker side of the same things.

The axis of conflict in gnosticism is between the mind and the spirit. Robespierre is without a doubt a man of the mind much more so than of the spirit, and all the important figures surrouding him are more on the spiritual side of things (with Camille being the most prominent in this regard). Maxime has achieved the gnosis, the crown that will burn [his] brains right through.Before it happens, though, he is elevated onto another plane of understanding, a place where no other person can reach him, or even understand him:

Danton, of course, is lying.

(There is, sadly, no French translation of Thermidor; on another note, it took me this long to realize the French decided to change the person's tag from Camille to Desmoulines, which is suprising in the best sense of the word).

Robspierre is clearly constructed to be a genius, standing above everybody else and thus bearing greater responsibility, something which demands of him more than it does of others.  Madness which he suspects within himself at the end  is only a threat because it potentially leads to commiting mistakes, and a mistake is an unforgivable offence when it is committed by the one who ought to know better. Mistakes by a hand of another – for example Camille – are a different story altogether, for the majority of people not only don't achieve gnosis, but even cannot achieve it, their mental state isn't developed enough for them to grasp at the higher concepts. I think this is one of the reasons why Saint-Just's words: It is not madness, it's despair, are actually calming Robespierre down. Despair is simply a sign of being weary, something to be expected.

Maxime's knowledge and better judgement of everything is of course still a curse, leading to his death. In gnosticism, death isn't meant in a macabre sense, since it leads to yet another, higher rung of the metaphorical ladder we're standing on, but the gnosis obtained beforehand makes a death a good one instead of a waste. When Robespierre is going through his moment of despair at the end of The Danton Case, he betrays the gnosis he has in favour of admiting that the future will turn out differently than what could be expected: his death won't be a natural progression, but a failure, his depaire sets him back into the crowd of the sad, grey mass of the people who are not – like him – predestined to understand more.

From the linguistic point of view, I find it interesting that in the original and in the French version, he is using somewhat esoteric language (the future is under the sign of Danton – to my eyes, it is a clear refereance to the Zodiac signs, something which is supposed to predestine our futures, and which is also esoteric and ritualistic; given all the hints that she was abused by her satanist father, it makes a really sad, hopeless final note on the grand scheme of things for the humanity, that we, as humans, are incapable of running away from the brute forces which will continue to rule us simply because the world is built like this – not to mention the inability to change the future or even just the fate of one's life is a staple of gnostic beliefs).

No matter what he says about it, the inability to escape from one's fate is something which we rarely associate with Robespierre, because – as much as Przybyszewska makes it clear, thet he is a genius and thus everything he does he is not only allowed to do, but must do it for the greater good – he seems a bit like a self-made man, perhaps because we see him all the time in situations which are hard and difficult, but not impossible. A much more tragic situtation of the lack of escape from his own poor choices is being presented to us through Camille.

Camille has had a chance to be continously tethered to Maxime, securing for himself relevant safety in the public life, and calmess or even happiness in his private one. Yet he breaks with Robespierre over and over again, starting even before the plot of the play. Maxime reaches out to him against his better judgement, and Camille – also against his better judgement – decides to stay loyal to Danton. He is as if glued to his leader, even though he sees him clearly for what he is. Camille is an apotheosis of a spiritual being, someone ruled by impulses, perhaps even with the best of intentions, but whose mind will never achieve gnosis, the clear vision of what is right and true. When Robespierre argues with the Committee by demanding they leave Danton (and Camille by proxy) alone, he plots against Maxime in his newspaper; when Robespierre goes to him under the cover of night, he doesn't want to see him and then throws him out; when Robespierre tries to either break him free from the prison or at the very least console him by admitting his love (I never actually knew what was his plan here), he follows the advice of his bad influences and doesn't admit him. It's as if a strange force kept him by Danton's side, and I don't think it was any normal feeling (of shame or guilt) keeping him away from Maxime. In The Last Nights of Ventose he makes it quite clear being a stronger person's lap dog would never bring him shame, but honour, thus I don't think he'd have any problem with returning to Robespierre after a long while of abuse and slander.

The relationship Camille has with Danton is another aspect of gnosticism, namely its duality. Danton is a stand-in for Maxime, which doesn't work because Danton is anti-Robespierre, his negative double (much like in some gnostic beliefs world was created and being conducted by two gods, one good and one evil). It is unclear whether Camille had any real, true potential to serve "good" Robespierre, but  even if he didn't, if his friableness kept him from serving a greater purpose (which I don't know if I believe, in The Last Nights of Ventose we are presented with a very different portrayal of Camille, one who could achieve something much greater than he did if only he was by Robespierre's side at all times), serving the "evil" Danton couldn't possibly have a good outcome.

He even does return to Robespierre, for a short while, steered by emotions rather than anything else. But in this dualistic, gnostic reality, emotions have little to do, they aren't worth very much. What's more, if we focus solely on Camille, we have to admit that – as in every story, revolving around a single character – a person is in a way stuck in time. He can go about in the space his life takes, but time is more like a deity, untouchable and something you cannot pact with. For Camille, it doesn't matter how many times and at what point in time (before their fallout, during the crisis or at the last hour) Maxime asks him to break with Danton and go back to him, because time and predestined fate hold all the power of what is happening, while individuals hold none (and the aforementioned last statement of Robespierre explains right away that it is so even for the "great" individuals, who in other aspects are being held to different standards, but against time and fate they are just as powerless).

I like to think, though, that Przybyszewska has left a small postern for Camille to achieve gnosis or its more humane equivalent by drawing a symbolic parallel between two scenes, which are only made significat by their possible relating to each other, but mean next to nothing on heir own:

In the first scene, the key could have been a completely incidental choice of words/tools, after all it's a logical conclusion of the scene. There is, however, a more symbolic reading of it, as a key is of course a symbol, and a pretty easy one at that. If Camille gave Robespierre the key himself, this could be read as an end to their relationship, Camille returning the power  that Maxime holds over him to Maxime's own hands. But since we only see Lucille relay the key, and we know that Lucille is also capable of influencing her husband and directing his steps (even if she says she can't; Robespierre's words, seeing as he's the genius here, are the final judgement of this), this could mean she is giving her portion of power to Maxime, whom she trusts to save her husband. And Maxime uses this one more time, when he tries to visit Camille in prison. That he fails miserably is against Camille's wishes, because Camille even in his demise only succumbs to wishes of others.

But we know he regrets this step mightily and we know it precisely because he dreams (or rather has a nightmare) about the very key he was supposed to convey to Robespierre earlier. He regrets the desire to give Maxime his power back, he regrets that by doing so in any way, shape or form he has finally given up his life. Choosing a beautiful death over an ugly, humiliating life only sounded good in his head, but in truth, he is beyond terrified and would love nothing more but to Maxime to come in again and if not save him, then at the very least – forgive him. But for that, they'd have to meet again, and he couldn't throw Maxime out. I also don't understand why both the English and French translation added the word "effortlessly" when describing his last moment with Robespierre, because make no mistake, it is very much an unnecessary addition, going against everything that he has been portrayed like so far. Their last conversation is just as much a tragic one for Camille as it is for Maxime.

Przybyszewska took great pains to paint Camille in front of our eyes as someone so weak that we find him as more of a comic relief than anything else, but in reality he is just a differing portrayal of powerlessness when faced with fate. Camille is not a comical character, but a tragic one, he is just the same as Robespierre, his other half: they both believe in their own agency, they both believe they are the ones making choices and pushing their lives forward, but it is not a coincidence that they both end up in he very same place, in a span of mere weeks.

This post would not have been born if it weren't for @patricidefan​.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

The King and the Bard

Analogical week Day 2: Song / Stars Word Count: 1518 CW: Poison, drugs, mentions of death

Virgil drew the bow over the violin strings, beginning to play a tune. He was the only one in the throne room at the moment, simply tuning the instrument and fooling around on it. He switched almost mid stroke from something rousing and lively to something calming and sweet. He cleared his throat before singing, his voice loud and clear as it rumbled through the lyrics. He closed his eyes and let the music move through him.

King Logan stood in the doorway, just listening to his bard as he did the standard maintenance on his instruments. He stayed there for a while, watching him carefully check each instrument before playing a tune on it. The next instrument was the violin. Logan watched him take his time with that one, saw him change the tune midway through the first one as he checked on his last instrument: his voice.

Logan’s eyes slipped closed as he listened to the voice that came from the court bard, someone he’d fallen for as the years went on. He didn’t know if the man loved him back or even thought of him as more than a sovereign but Logan loved him with his whole heart and couldn’t imagine life without Virgil in his.

Virgil’s voice faded off, the final notes hanging in the air as if they too were reluctant to end, as the violin kept playing for a few more seconds. Logan decided now was an appropriate time to enter and did, hearing the violin almost screech to a halt as Virgil noticed him. “Your Majesty!” He jumped to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the floor, sweeping into a bow more elegant than Logan normally saw from the nobles of his court. “My deepest apologies, I hadn’t heard you enter.”

Logan waved a hand. “It’s fine, dear bard, and please, just calling me Logan will suffice when we are alone. The choice to not announce my presence was mine. Please, continue.” He seated himself on his throne, settling back into it. Virgil drew his bow across the violin once more, producing a soothing note that he held for a moment before descending into an almost mad rush of notes, as if he were proving his skill.

Courtiers came and left, nobles prancing through the room as if they owned it. Still, Virgil played on, sounding just above the voices but not so loudly as to be distracting. Logan was grateful for the frenzied tune to latch onto, a tune that perfectly captured his mood as he sat and entertained the court. He was desperate to do something productive but all he could do was wait until it was time to receive the complaints from the people.

Finally, that time came. Virgil’s frantic playing turned softer as he put the violin away and produced a harp, playing a tune that was dignified and stately but had a touch of whimsy to it and, unless Logan was looking too deeply into it, a hint of sadness. Virgil didn’t sing along like he clearly wanted to, choosing instead to hum to the tune as he played, harmonizing with the harp.

Logan received the people’s requests and had a scribe write them down along with Logan’s initial idea as to how to solve it. Many times, it was a dispute over land and property or profits, simple things with easy fixes. Occasionally, there came a time where Logan would question what to do but he’d pause and listen to Virgil’s music and calm himself down enough to think.

A few days went by where it was business as usual, Logan entertaining the court before moving on to taking the citizens’ requests or complaints and spending the rest of the day fixing them or improving the kingdom in some way, all to the background sound of Virgil’s wonderful playing. However, a day came where there was a different bard setting up his instruments when Logan entered.

Instead of lingering in the doorway, King Logan strode forward. “Who are you and where is the usual bard?”

This man turned, a broad grin on his face and a hand propped on his red-garbed hip. In fact, he seemed to be garbed in red from neck to ankle as his black boots were the only speck of another color that could be found on him. “He was taken ill last night. I was called in to play in his place.”

Logan shook his head, distressed more than he cared to admit to this stranger. “Where does he live?”

The red bard gave him directions and Logan hurried there, longing to see Virgil’s signature black outfit. He knocked on the wooden door and, when no answer was given, pushed to see if it was latched. It wasn’t. He stepped inside and surveyed the small room. It was sparsely furnished, nothing as lavish as the rooms Logan roamed on the daily, and clean. In the corner, a raised bed housed a familiarly black clad figure.

Logan moved to Virgil’s side, kneeling by the bed with no regard for his expensive clothing. “Virgil?” He called, hesitant to touch him lest the illness be infectious.

Virgil groaned, rolling onto his side. “Who’s ‘ere?”

Logan smiled, reaching out to put a hand atop his blanketed shoulder. “It’s me, Logan.”

Virgil’s eyes opened slightly, just enough to see his face. “Your Majesty?”

Logan smiled, relief in his voice. “I thought I told you to stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged with one shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Logan shook his head as he stood, pushing his sleeves to his elbows. “Well, I’m here now. How can I help you?”

Virgil groaned again, cradling his stomach and curling into himself. “You can leave. You might catch whatever I have.”

Logan looked around the room, feeling at a loss as to what to do. Finally, a thought came to him. “Fine, I’ll leave but I’ll be back soon.”

Virgil didn’t hear him go, slipping into an uncomfortable sleep instead.

When he woke, his bed was softer than before and hand was wrapped around his. He drifted awake, his eyes taking in the canopy that hid the bed from the rest of the room with a section tied back for the hand-holder. He glanced at them and found it to be none other than the king of the realm, Logan Kelsey.

He startled and tried to pull back but the sleeping king had a tighter grip than anticipated. Virgil only succeeded in waking the man whose head rested on the mattress instead of escaping him. Logan lifted his head and stared straight into Virgil’s eyes.

The bard loved the man in front of him, loved the way he dealt with both the common people and the pompous nobles, loved the way he clearly enjoyed the songs Virgil played for him, loved that he was able to play whatever he wanted and the king would be enraptured. He loved this man with his whole soul but never felt worthy of him, thinking his beloved needed to marry someone of nobility or higher.

Logan’s eyes gazed softly into Virgil’s, trying to discern his thoughts. He wanted to ask a million questions but the only one that came out was, “How are you feeling?”

Virgil rolled joints that must have been stiff. “A lot better. I don’t know what you did and have no way of paying you back, but thank you.”

Logan smiled, “It is I who must thank you. It seems one of the cooks was planning to poison my dinner tonight and you inadvertently sampled that dish. You saved my life,” his other hand came up and his palm cupped Virgil’s cheek, “I just wish it wasn’t at the cost of your suffering.”

Virgil’s own hand came up and covered Logan’s, his eyes dipping down to Logan’s lips by accident. “I would suffer something ten times worse if it meant that you were safe from harm, Your Majesty.” This time, the title came out as a whispered term of affection for the king Virgil would gladly lay down his life to protect.

Logan smiled, leaning in but stopping just short of actually kissing him. Virgil closed the distance between them. When they pulled apart, Logan rested his forehead on the other’s. “Will you marry me?”

“I’d do so in a heartbeat if it were allowed.”

Logan pulled back. “‘If it were allowed’? Who said it wasn’t?”

Virgil shrugged, not meeting his eyes but keeping his hold of Logan’s hand on his cheek. “I simply assumed you’d be required to marry a noble or a royal of another kingdom. Not a simple commoner, not a bard, like me.”

Logan smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “My dear, my darling bard, no such rule or law exists. I am free to marry whom I choose.” He leant forward again. “And you are my choice if you agree to be.”

Virgil’s own face was graced with a smile as he leant in. Before he kissed him again he whispered, “I agree wholeheartedly, Your Majesty.”

[granvarones]

For the past four years, we have proudly participated in #TransphobiaIsASin, a social media campaign. Below is more information about the campaign and how folks can continue to support.

FROM @TheBlackTransPrayerBook:

Okay, Jan 15th is over, but I still have questions and/or want to know how to support the #TransphobiaIsASin Campaign and the Black Trans Prayer Book! Why Do you use the word “Sin”? We use the word “Sin”, which we acknowledge is a very charged word, primarily because we want to shift the framework from which people have the conversation about the worth/worthiness/holiness of Trans folks in religious spaces. In many religious institutions, it is demanded that Trans people prove or disprove whether or not we are against the rules of religion, are going against God(s) design etc. These frameworks put the burden of proof onto Trans people, when really, the people that really need to be questioned and held to a higher standard are those committed to theologies of violence and transantagonism which causes real physical, emotional and spiritual harm to Trans people. The purpose of the campaign is to shed light on what Trans people experience and make space to interrogate the Transphobic religious practices that impact our religious, AND secular lives. Okay, so you explained “Sin”. You also say “Transphobia is Haram”, but “Sin” and “Haram” don’t mean the same thing. Are you all Muslim? Yes, ‘Sin’ and ‘Haram’ ultimately have different definitions. When we look at the word ‘Haram' within Islam, what is very clear is that something considered ‘Haram’ is forbidden. The purpose of using ‘Haram” is not to be a direct mirror to the word “Sin”, but to again make plain that Transphobia is not in alignment with the values of an Ummah committed to justice and care. We wish to make clear that any practice or belief that causes violence against community members is not in alignment with the values of Islam. Both creators of this campaign have roots within Islam. I wanted to participate in the #TransphobiaIsASin Campaign, but I missed Jan 15th!!! What do I do now? Regardless of the date, if you become aware of the campaign and want to contribute, please continue to add to #TransphobiaIsASin ! We get submissions all year, Jan 15th just being the most active and intentional day we ask folks to participate.

[dangermousie]

Thank you for being supportive of the lead female character in Rebel Princess. I have been watching asian dramas , mostly Korean, for over 10+ years. I've noticed that when a lead female character is written as a realistic human being, people become upset and very critical. It's nice to come here and see that it's not only okay for a lead female character to be strong and independent minded, but can also have flaws without being vilified.

Awww, thank you!

I think that is a phenomenon in literally every fandom I have ever seen, sadly, not just drama one. (And as someone who hangs out in both English language and Russian language fandoms, not limited to American-centric spaces either.) Women characters tend in general to get held to much higher standards than male ones. I have never truly figured out why that is.

I think people can have reasoned out opinions as to why Awu doesn’t work for them now (or never did) and while I won’t agree, at least if someone put thought into it, it’s merely an agree to disagree “we interpret the story differently” situation. But so many places (youtube and viki comments, MDL, Soompi) tend to sum up all their issues with Awu or any other female character as, to be blunt, she does not worship at the shrine of the male character of their choice and that makes me see red.

Think of how many times you’ve seen criticism of the female lead (any female lead) for not loving ML enough, for not falling in line with his opinions and wishes, as if she’s not an independent person with her own past, her own goals, her own story and what she wants and needs and what informs her is not being a perfect love interest but her own life and her own experiences and her own existence. 

I mean, Xiao Qi is great. If I were a Holy Roman Empire elector, he’d get my vote for emperor. BUT! Awu is not obligated to say how high when he says jump (and he never says jump in the first place - one of the reasons I love him.) Criticisms of Awu I have seen (the ones that aren’t just of the “she’s annoying no I won’t explain why” variety) are that she loves her birth family too much and sides with them against her husband, she isn’t angry at character X or Y the way she should be, she is too passive, she doesn’t love XQ enough, etc. The last one is absurd (if she doesn’t love him enough, I am not sure what counts as enough), but even the rest of them just fault her for not being absolutely perfect but being human.

Yes, one of Awu’s flaws is holding on to her family when they are not worthy. It is a flaw, probably her biggest one. The sole time we’ve seen her be vicious to Xiao Qi was over her helping her cousin - when she told him he doesn’t know what family is because he’s never had anybody - ouch! Bringing a gun to a pillow fight is what it was, and clearly she went against the rule that you don’t use this kind of a nuke in a minor fight - there are things you just don’t say, especially since this very private person revealed it to you himself earlier, gave you his vulnerability to help with yours. But it is not only a consistent flaw and character trait (it didn’t just pop up!), it makes complete sense for a woman who grew up in an unusually close and warm to her family (remember her idyllic household? her parents and aunt and uncle and brother doting on her? the family didn’t even have concubines/half siblings for scheming to make childhood less idyllic), not to mention in the society where familial ties and clan ties are the most important, the most essential. Remember how dedicated the Dowager is to the Wangs v Xies etc. And when you add in Awu’s strong, loving, loyal heart, of course you get someone loyal to her birth family even when she herself acknowledges they don’t deserve it. But honestly, while it may have been a flaw vis-a-vis her cousin, I don’t even think it’s a flaw here. What kind of weird person would be OK with her husband going head to head with her father and brother (or even further extended family) and not try to prevent it? Xiao Qi may be the person she loves most but he is not the SOLE person she loves. It may be naive of her, but so very human, to hope the situation can be resolved without blood-shed or hurt on either side (side note - does anyone really doubt that if push came to shove with immediate threat to XQ’s life versus Zitan’s or similar she wouldn’t pick the former? But how can she pick between e.g. her husband and her father?)

As to anger against various people such as Zitan, Cousin, Helan Zhen - Awu cuts people out of her heart or never puts them there and she is unflinching, but she has always been a quiet reserved person who doesn’t shout, doesn’t do theatrical gestures (burning the paper with cousin is the closest she’s got.) Her anger has always been cold. She processes hate the same way she processes disappointment, the same way she processes grief - she locks herself behind emotional walls, behind silence. It’s all about repression. She and Xiao Qi are actually very similar in that. If one faults her for steely, quiet character, one might as well fault Xiao Qi for the same.

With regard to passivity, Awu plays to her strengths - which is bravery and will (remember the siege?) but she will never be a warrior like Hu Yao. I love having a period FL who does not know how to sword fight, who embroiders, who loves luxury and clothes and is not looked down by the story for it. She is calm and even still, but how can one call a woman weak who survived what she did, who dealt the way she did with her kidnapping(s), with the siege, with capital games, with Xiao Qi’s supposed death and then his not-supposed rebellion, the way she has?

Finally, yes Awu is flawed. But so is Xiao Qi (remember the contraception thing? One of both of their biggest flaws is withholding information) but hey, this is what makes them real and not boring pattern-cards of perfection.

[thestupidhelmet]

@insertsomethingpoetichere, I’m not going to post your whole question, but I’ll post the essence of it:

How do I reconcile Red's characterization in season 1/2 and in later seasons in order to make a cohesive and consistent political ideology? 

You don’t. They’re so disparate that they’re irreconcilable. You make a choice which version you think fits Red’s characterization best, based on your own understanding / interpretation of him.

I see him as a patriotic man, not a nationalistic one (there’s a difference). He’s very pro-U.S. and, unfortunately, xenophobic. But being pro-U.S. means that he’s also against corrupt politicians who do damage to this country’s constitution and democratic ideals. I prefer the Red of “Streaking” (1x03) in terms of his political stance. I think it makes more sense for his character. He risked his life for his country more than once, almost died for it, and he doesn’t want anyone -- from without or within -- to destroy what he fought to protect: an imperfect, flawed country but one with many freedoms, opportunities, and protections for its citizens (i.e. The Bill of Rights) and the ability to continue to evolve toward and beyond (in a positive way) the ideals the Founding Fathers set forth and to acknowledge and repair the damage done in the U.S.’s very creation. 

What the T7S / T9S writers will make of Red’s beliefs about the U.S.’s domestic and international policies and choices from the 1980s to today (if he lives that long) isn’t necessarily what real!Read would actually believe. Fictional characters must have internal coherence and consistency. Unfortunately, that is too often not a consideration in television writing. Novelists and short story writers, however, must adhere to this rule or the story will be nonsense. I wish (many) TV writers were held to a higher standard in their writing.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

Okay since I remember one of the asks that  disappeared, it was about what the situation is like between East Germany and West Germany today and if there are linguistic or cultural differences. (For one, if you’re interested in this, I really recommend the film Goodbye, Lenin, it’s a classic and it’s exactly about this subject and really funny and sad)

As for the linguistic side, because it’s simpler-

There are a lot of regional differences between German to begin with and I think compared to them, the differences between 'East German' German and 'West German' German are rather small. Being West German myself, I have an easier time understanding someone from Mecklenburg-Vorpommern or Brandenburg or Saxony-Anhalt than I do with someone who has a strong Bavarian, Swabian or Franconian accent, although the former were East German and the former are West German. Also they’re not necessarily more similar because they were one a specific side of the border.

There are some things that vaguely align with either region and were more common on one side - for example there are different ways to same the time, but those also predate the separation and not all 'Wessis' say it this way and all 'Ossis' say it that way.

There are some specific words and abbreviations and idioms that originated in West Germany or in East Germany, but they are mostly rooted in Hochdeutsch (Standard German) so you can conclude their meaning.

For example, in West Germany people called a supermarket a Supermarkt (generally, there are more loanwords from Western languages in 'West German') while East Germans said 'Kaufhalle'. But 'Super' and 'Markt' are both German words and even if you don't know what it means, you can conclude that it's a really great place to run your daily errands. And 'Kauf' and 'Halle' translates to 'buying hall' so you get the same idea.

In regional dialects such as Frisian or Swiss German, this would impossible, because these dialects are much older and very often have words and rules that don't exist in Standard German - not to mention they are pronounced very differently. You couldn’t deconstruct a word like that into Standard German unless they sound similar. Some researchers also said that some words were used differently and that East Germans had a stronger distinction between public and private language and make different jokes - which is pretty much a transition into the other differences. Basically, the actual use of language that came into existence because of the separation was too short-lived and too artificial to truly part of the language. Plus there was never actually an attempt by either side to create a ‘new’ German language. 

I actually watched some videos about North Koreans living in South Korea and struggling with the language and I noticed that for one, that Koreans said there was a rather consistent North Korean way of speaking - but while there are certain dialects like Saxonian that are ‘typical’ East German dialects (my parents can tell you if someone comes from East or West Berlin and often which part of either just based on the way they speak), there is not ONE East German dialect. Plus, the duration and intensity of the separation cannot be compared to that of Korea. Many East Germans still listened to West German radio and watched Western television. People could talk on the phone and write letters. And before the ‘death strip’ was finished, people could even talk across the wall. So there was some interaction. 

As for other differences - 

The obvious ones are the economical differences. West Germany still has a stronger economy than East Germany - a map, as an example (although it’s a bit small I know) - you can easily make out which part used to be GDR and which used to be West Germany.

The result is that many young East Germans, especially young women, move into the West to work, especially from rural regions. There are a lot of towns actually shrinking because they're only populated by old people and those who stay behind and try to make it work. At the same time, a lot of West Germans have started studying in the East because things are cheaper there. Many of them are students - so, again, young people - but they are moving into the cities like Leipzig, Potsdam or Dresden.

I definitely think there is a generational divide in the attitude East Germans and West Germans have for each other. I was born after the reunification and I've always considered all of Germany my home-country and so do pretty much all my peers and everyone up to a certain age. But my mother, for example, was born three years after the wall was first built and her entire youth, she watched it become bigger and higher and stronger - back then, she could barely imagine ever seeing a reunification and living in West Berlin, she experienced East Germany as a hostile country surrounding her and restricting her and being the cause of all the military presence - so she also didn't really see them as the other half to a whole and more of an enemy. 

This was one of my favourite caricatures in my history books in school, it’s about the changing attitude East and West had to each other, the text says:

1945: “Brother!” 1955: “My dear cousin!” 1965: “Oh, right - we still have some distant relative living in a foreign country.”

The generation who was actually born pre-separation was born under the NS-regime and for most of them, watching the country as it was fall apart and rebuilding their lives after the war was a formative experience. This generation was all about looking forward, not back (because...looking back was very ugly, too). People who had family in the other half tried to stay in contact, make it work - but people who didn't usually had a more ambiguous relationship to all of this.

After the war, West Germany under Chancellor Adenauer's leadership was at least as eager to build relationships with the West as to reunify. And considering that occupied Germany could do very little to actually solve the whole Cold War problem all by itselves, the focus for the West was really on reconciling with France, forming a stronger European community (what would eventually turn into the European Union), rebuilding the country (Miracle on the Rhine) as well as rebuilding its international reputation. The fight to reconnect with the East (like attempts to form a 'pan'-German Olympics team) was mostly carried by individuals and organisations. 

West Germany never considered itself saturated - for example, the reason that our Constitution is not called a Verfassung but a Grundgesetz a 'basic law' is that having a constitution would imply that this is a fully-formed state, when really, it was only expected to exist until the reunification. But de facto, in the 1960s and 1970s, reunification had begun to seem so unlikely that West Germany begun to ‘solidify’. I live near Bonn (the capital of West Germany) and it's interesting that the buildings the government moved into during the 1970 are much more permanent and secure (also partly because of RAF terror attacks). 

You also have to keep in mind, even when the wall came down, only very few countries actually supported a reunification - many wanted the two Germanys to continue to exist as separate countries or to find a different solution. People were really worried about German reunification meaning that Germany would suddenly revert back to Nazi-Germany or, less paranoid, that a united Germany would be such an economic super-power that it would dominate the EU (...well) with only France and Britain (...well) being able to opposite it. So being too vocal about reunification for no reason was a delicate diplomatic endeavour in the decades prior to reunification. But long story short, there was always the dream of reuniting and becoming a whole new country together one day.

Which is...kinda the problem today.

Culturally, East Germany had an entirely different attitude towards itself, West Germany, its Allies and the world. It was a lot more militaristic, it was socialist and also had a very different relationship to the legacy of the NS-history and had very different international allies. For example, in SED-lingo, the “Berlin Wall” was called the “Anti-Fascist Protection Wall” (The West being the fascists.) They considered themselves a new country. West Germany considered itself the Nachfolgestaat (successor state) to Nazi Germany with all responsibilities like building a good relationship with Israel etc. while East Germany held up the communist resistance and saw themselves more as the successors of the people who fought against the Nazis. A lot of members of the SED government had actually fled Germany during the NS-regime and gone to Russia and aided the resistance from there.

I already mentioned West Germany's great plans about reuniting and becoming a whole new country together. But when the wall fell, that never happened. West Germany absorbed East Germany and moved on with no new constitution or actual negotiation. Compared to West Germany, East Germany didn't have a strong economy and it was socialist, which means that the companies were owned by the state. A state that had ceased to exist, basically. So West Germany decided on a plan to bring East Germany up to (capitalist) standard. Chancellor Kohl promised that he would turn it into 'Blühende Landschaften', 'thriving lands' (which is something West Germans often mockingly say when they're angry about something happening in East Germany, so you do the maths).

Problem with all of this was that this meant basically re-modelling the entire economy. A lot of people lost their jobs, the weaker East German currency was replaced with the West German currency and Western companies moved into East Germany.

There is this old joke about reunification: East Germany: "West Germany, West Germany, you broke your promises." West Germany: "Don't worry about it, I'll buy you a new one."

Basically, through the Solidaritätszuschlag a lot of money was invested into the East - something that to this day, many people in the West resent, especially people who come from poorer regions themselves and accuse East Germans of mismanaging money or say that cities like Leipzig or Dresden were built up to be representative for the success of the reunification while certain regions in the West like the Ruhr-region are suffering at least as much as rural regions in East Germany. These groups demand that the Solidaritätszuschlag isn’t just invested into the East but all regions that have a poor infrastructure or similar problems.

You have to understand what a big deal reunification was when it happened. To this day, it is considered the 'only peaceful revolution on German soil' and East Germans take great pride in beating that regime while West Germans consider it the fulfillment to all diplomatic ambitions the country had since it was formed. And obviously, families were reunited after decades, people could move freely - you have to keep in mind, travel was extremely restricted and now everyone could go wherever they pleased. It was the biggest, best and happiest moment in living history. And then it took a giant nose-dive in the 90s and the stereotypes of the 'whining East German' and the 'arrogant West German' were born.

For example, the poverty caused a rise in right-wing radicalism in East Germany. The country was very isolated and suddenly a lot of families lost their income and people started blaming it on immigrants. West Germans, in response, decided East Germans are all Nazis and racists and are ruining our elections. 

These days, parties like the right-wing AfD are actually trying to use the 'Western is the default' culture of Germany to appeal to East Germans and presenting themselves as the only ones who will represent East Germany. That's why they're rather successful in East Germany - they actually address East Germans as a group while the other parties look out for their supporters in specific regions in the West. At the same time, many East Germans who aren't racist, aren't Nazis and aren't voting the AfD or NPD accuse West Germans (rightfully imo) of blaming all problems there are with racism in the country on the East to avoid addressing their own issues. 

East German: “As if there was no racism in the West.” West German: “There is...but it’s only latent.”

I think it’s important to understand that there are cultural differences and they can’t be broken down into: “East Germany has more Nazis”. And there are different experiences people made on either side.

For example, in 2009, during her election campaign, Angela Merkel had an interview and spoke about how she preferred buying her own groceries. (Yeah, German elections are full of riveting revelations about exciting stuff. Nothing compared to her compaign where she revealed her recipe for potato soup). She said: "I go to the supermarket - or, as we used to say, Kaufhalle."

The German version of the Daily Show takes this clip and shows it and makes a whole joke about it with the host commenting rather drily: "No, she got something wrong here - we never said Kaufhalle in the Federal Republic of Germany". Obviously, Merkel never said that anyone said that in West Germany. She was speaking of her personal experience - and she's East German. But I find it very telling that a national tv program actually branded this as a 'mistake' on her part, because the way she talked about her experiences wasn’t altered for West Germans to identify with them. At the same time, if you watch tv shows that are in a generic German setting - for example the tv-show Dark - you will notice that they’re never in East Germany. They’re almost always in a generic West German place - because that is not considered a statement.

As for other cultural differences, East Germany became very un-religious while West Germany had many CDU (Christian Democratic Union) governments. The result today is that West Germans are more likely to be (at least on the paper) either Protestant or Catholic while (I think) 3 out of 4 East Germans are neither. There are different attitudes towards family, equality, community, ---- nudity, entertainment, food, cooking. how much ice-cream should cost and so on.

So this also means there are...differences regarding the way people think about the past. West Germans tend to think of their living memory as universal, while Ostalgie (East-algia) is something peculiar to the East - because West Germans (with the exception maybe of West Berliners) didn’t experience comparable changes. But East Germans remembering their old cars and old food and stuff is something that many West Germans are suspicious of, because for West Germans, their last experience with a dictatorship was the NS-regime, so there is a much smaller acceptance of the West of separating the lived every-day culture under an authoritarian regime than in the East, where entire generations grew up in this system and built a private life for themselves outside the political aspects of that society.

This also leads to the bigger conversation about the GDR as an ‘Unrechtsstaat’ (Rechtsstaat: A country where everyone is equally protected by the law, Unrecht: Injustice).  Basically, when East Germans say “Not everything was bad”, they are usually speaking about the community, helping each other and specific traditions, child care, things being more affordable. When West Germans hear them say ‘not everything was bad’ they think about that one uncle who might or might not have been in the SS and alarm bells begin to ring. I think this conversation is full of misunderstandings on either side. Because the East Germans actually suffered a cultural shock in the 90s when basically their entire culture changed and many people lost their jobs and their entire social environment begun to crack - while West Germans grew up watching military parades and giant socialist celebrations being held on tv for years in their neighbouring country and feared that they would be the first to die if a nuclear war broke out and now they see people celebrate that time. 

That said, I think the tone of these disagreements has changed somewhat and statistics show that people are becoming increasingly more ‘German’ and less ‘East’ or ‘West’ German.. As I said, there is a strong generational divide, imo. No one in my generation or ...below 35 would ever seriously argue that 'East' and 'West' don't belong together, while I know some people in their 40s and 50s who sometimes say it was a mistake. These days, in my opinion, its less a sentiment of 'this is a different country and we have to live with them' (another joke: What's the difference between Russians and West Germans? - we got rid of the Russians) and more an internal disagreement that has some very serious aspects and some less serious aspects.

There is this (unofficial, whimsical) thing that journalists do every year when we (officially) celebrate (by doing literally nothing and sitting at home) reunification and they go around asking random people if the 'wall in our heads' still exists and I don't think it's really a wall that exists - it's not about the wall, anymore, or the Cold War or propaganda or anything, it's about the differences that exist today. 

And in your original ask you wanted to know if there are still ramifications and there definitely are - the economical ones and the cultural ones. But I think when it comes to the cultural ones, I think part of the problem is the West German expectation that in order to truly tear down the 'wall in our heads', East Germans have to become and act and think exactly like West Germans - but I don't think that should be the goal and I think that the actual tensions between East and West are becoming smaller rather than bigger. I mean, I really focused on the negative in this answer, but I think most people today, especially the young generation, considers themselves German first and Ossi or Wessi second (or fourth or fifth) and the economical situation in the East has improved tremendously since the 1990s and I think that also helps easing things. 

I also dug up some numbers of varying usefulness for you:

43% of East Germans say they eat meat and sausage every day, only 24% of West Germans do

The Gender Pay Gap is 7% in East Germany and 22% in West Germany

Of the 201 most successful CEOs in Germany, only 2% are East German

27% of East Germans say they trust the media, 43% of West Germans do

The 20 biggest German newspaper are all from former West Germany

2017 about 38% of East Germany were open to trying chocolate pizza, 43% of West Germans were