#Like there are certain Very Few famous men that like. I definitely consider them attractive. I’m just not attracted to them.

[ciderjacks]

OK. QUESTION FOR GAY PEOPLE ONLY. AND BY GAY I MEAN HOMOSEXUAL NOT JUST GENERAL QUEER AS IN STRICTLY ONLY ATTRACTED TO THE SAME SEX.

I realized recently the difference between finding someone attractive and personally being attracted to them I need to know if this confusion has led other gay people to sexuality crisis.

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

Next chapter

[delicioussshame]

I remembered this fic only a few days ago. Sorry. Have the second part.

At least he wrote to Luo Binghe before his little stunt.

He hangs onto this small bright spot like a lifeline as he stares at his phone, back in his apartment. Once his disciple has read the message Shen Yuan sent, he’ll understand that his shizun was just pretending to be a bitch. He’ll probably find it in his heart to forgive the humiliation, especially since Shen Yuan will be suffering from it way more than Tianlang-Jun’s fucking son ever will.

If his parents found out he befriended one of China’s richest moguls’ heir, they might ease up on the forced partying, but alas. He won’t tell them. That would ruin his whole schtick.

Never mind that! How the hell is Luo Binghe’s Tianlang-Jun’s son! That was very much not included in the backstory he was given by him! Single mother, poor upbringing, tiny village! Not uber-rich daddy just waiting for him to join him in the big city, woo just as rich women and inherit his endless conglomerate! Tianlang-Jun wasn’t even known to have children! Or a wife! Luo Binghe kept him in the dark! Or he outright lied to him!

Okay, so maybe Shen Yuan did not tell Luo Binghe he also was a scion of the rich and famous of Beijing. They had shared precious little about their personal lives. There had been too many novels to discuss. Luo Binghe must surely have been just as surprised as Shen Yuan himself.

Shen Yuan holds his phone, typing and deleting another message to Luo Binghe. He doesn’t know how to apologise for the frankly abysmal way he’d treated him.

Just as he’s deleting another string of characters, his phone beeps. Shizun remembers our date tomorrow, right?

…So Luo Binghe isn’t angry, right? He’s not, right? He wouldn’t call it a date if he only wanted to break Shen Yuan’s face with his mighty fists, would he?

(Okay, he’s not sure why Luo Binghe is calling it a date anyway, but whatever.)

I do.

Good! I can’t wait to see him!

…Maybe Binghe has an identical twin brother. That would explain everything.

It makes at least as much sense as Luo Binghe being a pure white lotus and a fan of online literature, while also being a rich playboy standing to inherit one of the country’s biggest conglomerates.

…He’ll find out soon enough. See you tomorrow then.

Just to be on the safe side, he’ll stop by a nice bakery before they meet.

_________________

It is possible it’s the fifth time Shen Yuan checks his watch.

It is also possible his nerves got the better of him and made him arrive forty-five minutes early. Sue him.

“Shizun!”

If their relationship is going to continue, he needs to put a stop to this appellation. It’s terrible for both their image.

Shen Yuan turns toward the call, and almost flinches away from the force of his disciple’s radiance. There’s no way this Binghe, cheeks flushed from having rushed over and wide smile on his face, is anything like the lady-killer Shen Yuan crossed the other day.

Identical twins. Shen Yuan is calling it.

“Shizun must forgive me for the other night! If I had known he would be there, I would have warned him!”

For fuck’s sake what the hell is happening. “Binghe doesn’t need to apologise! If anything, I was the one whose conduct was horrid. I should be the one apologising!” He shoves the pretty pastel paper bag in Binghe’s chest “Here, pastries! You like those, right? Take it as a gesture of good will and repentance. And everything we do today is on me.” Not that Luo Binghe needs his money. If anything, he’s probably richer than Shen Yuan’s whole family combined.

Binghe peeks into the bag and thanks him before setting it aside, obviously uninterested for now. “From what I gathered, I suspect we were using similar strategies, since what I’ve heard about you cannot possibly be true. There must be more to this.”

Shen Yuan can imagine what the people he has systematically alienated for years must have told him, and feel dread pooling in his stomach. “What did they say.”

Luo Binghe waves it away. “Nothing important. I don’t believe a word of it. I know Shizun better than they ever will, I’m sure of it.”

Well, okay. Shen Yuan will definitely take it. “How about you, then? Binghe was…” terrifyingly seductive, “another person yesterday.”

“My father’s idea. He said that if I were to integrate his world, it was his duty as a father to make sure I’m not eaten alive. I took acting lessons.”

Acting lessons! Seriously? “And have you considered making that your profession?” Because with that persona, Luo Binghe would become China’s number one heartthrob seconds following his first apparition on a small, or big, screen.

“I’m going to take it as a compliment, especially from you. Your performance was quite notable. It gave me chills.”

Yeah, chills born out of awkwardness. “I’m nothing compared to him. Just to be certain: Binghe pretends to be a smooth socialite to fit in, right?”

Luo Binghe nods.

“How do you stand it? I could never manage to pretend that I appreciate Xiao Gongzhu or Sha Hualing. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that their diet is mainly composed of human flesh, with a preference for young men.”

“Surely Shizun is exaggerating? They were nothing but nice to me.”

“With your looks and your status, of course they were.”

“If that was what they were after, wouldn’t they get along with Shizun just fine? He’s also got both those things.”

Shen Yuan tries not to let his befuddlement appears on his face. “I have status, but not anywhere near as high as yours? That’s all that matters to those girls. If he tried to prepare you, your father must have warned you about people like them.” He’s not even going to abase himself by addressing the looks issue. They both have eyes. Only one of them looks like he could grace the cover of Vogue China, and it sure isn’t Shen Yuan.

“He did warn me of enterprising women in general, before going on a tangent about enterprising women who are too independent to agree to marriage and instead run away to give birth in lost villages without informing their partner, which I have gathered must be about my birth mother. It’s nothing I couldn’t have thought of myself. Anyway, Shizun shouldn’t worry. I have no plans to choose either of them as a partner.”

Shen Yuan lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. Binghe deserves better. He should look for someone he cares for to share his life with.” It’s not like he’ll need their money.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

Already? He didn’t even start class yet. “Good for you. I’m wishing you luck.”

“Thank you, but I will make my own luck.” With a lack of shame Shen Yuan can only envy, Luo Binghe grabs his hand and drags him toward the nearby street. “Let’s go! There is so much to see here! We can’t afford to waste time!”

Shen Yuan smiles, charmed by Luo Binghe’s childish enthusiasm. “Let’s.”

________________________

Shen Yuan returns to his apartment with a peace of mind only one who has buried his terrible mistake down deep in the ground can attain. He explained to Luo Binghe why he acts as he acts, and Luo Binghe accepted it. Luo Binghe explained to him the same, and it made sense to Shen Yuan. They had spent the whole day wandering around the city, eating delicious food and visiting anything that attracted Luo Binghe’s varied interests.

Had Shen Yuan expected to spend an hour comparing cooking utensils? Why, no, he hadn’t. Was it boring? Miraculously, no. Was it worth it, considering he ended up getting invited over to dinner? If the pastries Luo Binghe had made him before were an indication of his general abilities in the kitchen, Shen Yuan would have easily spent three more hours in that shop, listening to Binghe rave about the selection he could have never gotten in his tiny village that was apparently so remote that even ordering online wasn’t always possible, for such an invite.

Reality, sadly, is eager to unbury the mistake he had just set aside.

It does so via an email bearing his mother’s address, reminding him that his presence to Qin Wanyue’s birthday party was very much expected.

Shen Yuan is going to have to prepare his most cutting insults and, fuck, have to double down on ruining Luo Binghe’s reputation, isn’t he? He can’t admit his error. It would leave him open to attacks. He can only act even worse, treating Luo Binghe as if the revelation of his true parentage did not improve his status in Shen Yuan’s eyes.

Fuuuuck. How is he going to manage being meaner than he previously was to such a gentle soul? If Binghe looked hurt for even a second, Shen Yuan’s years of masquerade would burn down in an instant as he exploded in apologies.

He needs a plan.

“Shizun?”

“Binghe! Sorry to bother you so soon after I left, but do you have a minute? It’s important.”

“Shizun could never be a bother. What is he calling about?”

“Are you invited to Qin Wanyue’s party?”

“Yes. So is Shizun? It’s good that we’ll see each other again so soon!”

“No it’s not! I can’t be nice to you! I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me later. I just wanted Binghe to know that I don’t mean anything I tell him. He can’t take it to heart, okay? That’s just something that needs to be done.

“About that, I had an idea. It’ll be fun!”

Shen Yuan blinks. How could anything related to polite society be fun? He’s convinced that if fun and formal parties ever happened in the same space, a singularity would form and swallow the place whole.

And nothing of value would be lost. “What is Binghe’s idea?”

“We’re both acting, aren’t we? How about we flesh out our characters…”

________________________

Face impassive but heart beating so fast it’s about to jump out of his chest, Shen Yuan steps into the perfectly arranged garden party.

Whispers instantly rise. Smothered but mocking laughter can be heard. Eyes rove over him, anticipating the explosion they feel coming.

Luckily for them, they’re about to get their money’s worth.  

Shen Yuan, as is his habitude, settles down somewhere unoccupied and pulls out his phone, trying to forget Binghe’s impending arrival within the pages of a terrible novel he usually loves to rage at. Very good source of inspiration for his current demeanor.

“Oh, it’s you. You dared to show your face here. I can’t believe your gall.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t look up. Xiao Gongzhu doesn’t deserve his attention.

Until she tries to slap him. “So arrogant! I’ll teach you your place!”

Her hand is caught by Luo Binghe, his long fingers curling around her wrist in a way that looks more caress than impediment. “A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t waste your time on the likes of him.”

Shen Yuan lifts his eyes from his phone and gives Luo Binghe his most disdainful glare. “I’d ask you to keep your pet on its leash, but if anyone here is a beast, it must be you, bastard.”

The silence around them is complete.

Tianlang-Jun had never been married. He wasn’t even known to maintain a mistress or two.

The family resemblance wasn’t striking, but present enough that Luo Binghe being an adopted child was unlikely.

Ergo, Luo Binghe is an illegitimate child, probably only brought into the family when the existence of legitimate heirs became unlikely. What a scandal, really.

No one had dared bring this up yet, but if anything would, it would be that asshole Shen Yuan, wouldn’t it?

Luo Binghe’s eyes focus on him, righteous anger on his face. “At least someone wants me. From what I understand, it’s never been your case, was it?”

Shen Yuan shoves his phone in his pocket with a swift gesture conveying fury. “Who would want someone here to want there? Each one more worthless than the other. You’ve really found your place, haven’t you?”

“If this world is so unpleasant to you, how about you leave and never come back? I assure you no one would miss you.” Luo Binghe turns toward the captivated audience. “Would you?”

Again, muffled laughter and cruel eyes, but few open responses. Too dangerous, really. Even if it didn’t compare to Tianlang-Jun’s empire, the Shen family was far from powerless.

Luo Binghe continues as if nothing had happened. “No one to defend you, I see. You didn’t give me a chance to demonstrate it, but I’m usually a kind man. If you had been able to control your nature for a few minutes, we might have become close, you and I. You’ve got so much more experience navigating these troubled seas. I would have welcomed the lessons.” Luo Binghe shakes his head in exaggerated sorrow. “Alas, it wasn’t to be. You have chosen otherwise, so by all means, let’s travel the road you’ve picked, shall we? For all that you’ve called me beast, you’re the raging dog chained to a post, unable to join in no matter how much he rages.” Luo Binghe waves at the air invitingly.” Go on, rage uselessly. It certainly is of no concern to me.”

“Can a head as empty as yours even be concerned with anything? Nothing you’ve said have proved otherwise. As for that taunt you tried to wield against me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I have no interest in responding to you in any way. In fact,” Shen Yuan pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes back to his book, “you’re already wasted too much of my time. Go have fun with your equals. I’m sure they’ll soothe your fragile ego, in-between throwing daggers at your back.”

Shen Yuan stubbornly refuses to react to Luo Binghe’s sightly disbelieving laughter, or to the insults thrown to his face by others. He just lets Luo Binghe shake his head again, as if appalled, and guide his cronies away from Shen Yuan, leaving him in blessed peace.

Just as planned.

________________________

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how one of Beijing’s elite most infamous rivalry was born.

As far as said elite knew.

[teawaffles]

It Happened One Night: Chapter 5

“——What!?”

Everyone, including Sherlock and John, was taken aback.

“Whose house did you find it at?”

Having attracted the gazes of everyone in the room, the officer who’d just entered looked distinctly uncomfortable. But upon hearing his superior’s question, he coughed to clear his throat, and explained in a businesslike tone.

“We found the painting in the house of a woman named Amy.”

“Amy? Is that true?”

The innkeeper’s daughter, Patti, seemed shocked. That said, as Sherlock and John looked around the room, they realised that although Amy had been in the pub earlier, she was currently nowhere to be seen.

The reason for that immediately became clear. The officer who’d made the report turned to Patti.

“Yes; she said she wanted to return home, so I accompanied her. Then just to be certain, I conducted a simple search of her house, and that’s when I found a painting that matched the description of the stolen item.”

Amidst the commotion stirred up by this new revelation, the officer in charge nodded slightly.

“Well then, where is Miss Amy now?”

“She has remained in her home, under the supervision of another officer.”

“Understood. Get me the details of the situation as soon as you can. I’m glad this case got resolved quicker than I thought.”

At those last words, Patti’s eyes widened in shock.

“What do you mean? You can’t seriously be thinking that Amy is the culprit?”

He responded in a calm voice, as if he was accustomed to such reactions.

“Well, isn’t it a reasonable conclusion? We found the stolen painting in her house. There’s no cause for doubt here.”

“That’s— It can’t be! Amy would never do something like that, and she was talking with me the entire time during the party. She didn’t have time to leave and steal the painting.”

Seeing how Patti desperately defended her friend, the man frowned in confusion.

“In that case, she must’ve had an accomplice. Then they stored the painting in her house for the time being. With that, it all adds up.”

“What do you mean, it ‘adds up’……?”

The officer had tried to wrap up the case with such a careless explanation, and to that, Patti was simply lost for words. Perhaps he had always handled his work this ineptly.

The detective took over and confronted him.

“Now hold on just a minute. All the report says is that the painting was found at her house. From that fact alone, isn’t it unreasonable to conclude that she’s the culprit?”

“Who’re you, anyway? ……Ah, someone mentioned it earlier. So you’re a famous detective or something?”

The officer didn’t seem to be familiar with the name Sherlock Holmes. Not particularly caring to explain his background, Sherlock questioned the conclusion he’d reached.

“This woman, Amy, she agreed to have a police officer accompany her home without any objections. If she knew the painting was in her house, would she really have done such a thing? Also, from how that officer spoke just now, it seems he found the painting the moment he entered her home. You’d think she’d have considered that her house would be searched, and hidden the painting somewhere less conspicuous, don’tcha think? So, what do you say to that?”

Having suddenly been dragged into the conversation, the officer who’d made the report was visibly nervous as he replied.

“That’s…… Well, it’s true that the painting was in the sitting room, right after the entrance.”

“See? It was practically begging you to find it. So it’s highly likely that Amy has been framed — you shouldn’t be making a decision just yet.”

Upon hearing Sherlock’s argument, Patti’s expression brightened up, but it seemed the police had other ideas. The officer in charge spoke on behalf of all of them.

“Mr Holmes. The culprit must surely have been in a hurry. So after stealing the painting, when they went to her house, they had no time to hide it, and decided to leave it in the sitting room for the time being. Then Miss Amy asked to return home, to try and hide the painting properly this time; but because this officer ended up accompanying her, she resigned herself to fate and allowed him into the house. How’s that? Now the explanation fits.”

“Oh, come on……”

There was an obvious indolence behind his words: he was no longer willing to listen. Sherlock had more arguments prepared, but at this rate, they would just be evaded in the same quibbling manner.

In order to persuade the officers, they had no choice but discover the truth of the case as soon as possible.

However, Sherlock had yet to make any progress towards that goal. His mind was working on overdrive — he knew he had to avoid the tragedy of an innocent person being arrested — but nevertheless, they were short on both time and information.

The detective’s expression contorted in anguish, and the officer seemed astonished as he spoke.

“Hey, if this was the city, where everyone rushes about everyday, maybe there’d be some deeper truth to uncover. But this is the countryside: nothing remarkable ever happens here, and everything moves according to simple rules. I don’t know whether it’s because you’re a famous detective, or whatever, but aren’t you making this out to be more complicated than it is?”

“…………”

He looked at Sherlock, who squandered mental effort even on the strength of his counterarguments, then turned to face the entrance of the inn.

“Well then, I’ll have the minimum number of officers necessary remain behind, and the rest shall be withdrawn at once. Thank you for your cooperation.”

With that, most of the officers left the building. The guests who’d remained behind simply stood where they were, stunned by the police’s shoddy work.

“……W-What’ll we do now, Sherlock?” John asked, seized with frustration.

“Argh, I was almost there. Dammit…… They did their jobs way too fast, and in a bad way, mind.”

Sherlock continued to think over the case, even as he laid bare his exasperation at the officers. However, he still didn’t have the full picture: it felt as though he had an idea of which way to go, but not a precise path to get there.

As the fog in his mind refused to clear, precious seconds were ticking away.

“Sherlock……”

Beside him, John clenched his fists, acutely aware of his own powerlessness.

Looking at the two men, the innkeeper muttered in a vexed tone.

“Those officers are usually decent fellows, but…… I didn’t think they’d presume Amy was the culprit based on that kind of reasoning.”

With that kind of reasoning, they had presumed she was the culprit. Just recently, Sherlock had heard a line very similar to that.

——Ah, it’d been from that brother of his.

Mycroft had said those words when he visited their apartment before, immediately prior to the “Scandal of the British Empire” case.

“Sherly tends to presume a bit too much in his reasoning.” [1]

Mycroft had said so in a condescending tone that’d also implied he knew something Sherlock didn’t. Sherlock wanted to complain about it back then, but as he knew for a fact that his brother was more intelligent, he’d had no choice but to accept the criticism.

Presuming too much. Perhaps, in this investigation, he had also presumed something he shouldn’t have. Maybe not something that would’ve overturned the case from its very foundations, but rather, a tiny detail.

In an unusual turn of events, he took his brother’s words to heart without protest. Then, seconds later, something struck him like a flash of lightning.

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?”

The shock from that bolt of inspiration had sent his entire body into shivers, and John was clearly worried. Then, Sherlock gnashed his teeth as he replied without hesitation.

“Hey, John. I admit that the carefree few days we’ve spent here might have dulled my thinking. That’s why I was thrown off by how quickly this case unfolded.”

He suddenly laid blame on himself, and John cocked his head in confusion.

“W-What’s happened, Sherlock? Saying something like that out of the blue…… In the first place, there’s little information to go on this time, so our hands are tied.”

But Sherlock took no heed of that, and spoke forcefully.

“That’s…… That’s why— Listen, this time it was my own dullness that slowed down my reasoning. I'd thought that if I could gather just a little more evidence, then the answer would reveal itself immediately. So it was definitely not my brother’s words that led me to the answer, got it?”

“……Ah.”

John understood.

Although he didn’t know the exact details, he knew that Sherlock had probably solved the case with the help of some advice he’d heard from Mycroft before. Because he didn’t want to admit that, he tried to explain why his deductions had reached a deadlock instead.

At that, John couldn’t help but chuckle, and Sherlock was evidently cross about it. But if he messed around with him too much, he didn’t know what kind of logic he’d employ next.

He asked about their next move.

“Well then, what should I do?”

At that question, Sherlock also switched up his thinking.

“First, pick someone we can trust in this inn. I’ll give further instructions then.”

“Got it.”

Then Sherlock whispered into John’s ear the name of someone he was certain was involved in the case. With that, the two men promptly headed out.

Footnotes:

[1] Mycroft said this in Chapter 17 of the manga (“A Scandal in the British Empire, Act 1”). I chose to translate the line anew for the purposes of this story.

[brw]

Tony Stark and Reed Richards for the character ask thing

TONY STARK

how i feel about this character: 😬 ngl i... don't care for him. at all. i don't vehemently hate him, there's definitely times where i appreciate him & his personality but it's few and far between and i... genuinely do not get the hype. i think its mostly mcu fans' fault for my dislike, its just he's fucking EVERYWHERE now, it's impossible to miss him? like he plays a big role in EVERY avengers comic now, he gets ongoing titles all the time, and it's just so frustrating especially when you consider characters who used to be more or less on the same level on them (like hank pym! who, by the way, has been dead for 6 consecutive years! that would never happen with tony!) or even more popular than him now get streamlined because of the mcu's popularity. by himself, i don't really mind him that much, but with how famous he is now and how large and frankly annoying his fan base is i just... now really do not like the character.

all the people i ship romantically with this character: short list here; reed, because i find their dymanic of reed as someone who does everything for his family and will do everything and anything he can to protect their interests above everyone else but also wants to keep his hands clean and believes, genuinely, in the good of the world, and tony as someone who will do horrendous things in the name of the greater good who always has the bigger picture in mind interesting. i also don't know a lot about it but he seems cute with rhodey? even if i think rhodey deserves a bigger chance to be his own character away from tony as is sometimes denied i can always appreciate a good best friends to lovers dymanic :)

my non romantic otp for this character: um? i honestly don't know 😭 i don't like him enough to say, i guess him n reed again? him n rhodey again? help 😭😭😭

my unpopular opinion of this character: he does not deserve the fame he has. like, i dont mean to sound jealous or whatever but pre 2007 movie he was not the most well liked character or even that popular. like obviously he had fans because he had solo series on and off for a very long time but it just feels SO ridiculous that tony stark has a bigger fandom than the fucking fantastic four. THE FANTASTIC FOUR. marvel's first superhero team, and yet??? like okay. he might have things to offer i don't see. he obviously does, i mean, he got three movies and multiple solo series. but he has most certainly not got enough as a character to overshadow the fantastic four, the x-men, etc and i will never forgive the mcu & mcu fans (and mark miller, he deserves blame too) for making it so. again, by himself he's fine but it is ridiculous to me that a one note white character that appeared in his third film (harley keener or... whatever) has 2000s more fics than THE PROTAGONIST OF INTO THE SPIDERVERSE, MILES MORALES. it is just... so vile and frustrating to me.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: he didn't exist <3 jk jk um i'm not sure? i guess it would be funny if he was like... stick thin underneath the armour. like idk. he's in the armour 24/7 it makes sense to me for him to be a skinny little nerd under there. like completely fucking small. like you can't be a superhero AND be a billionaire and avoid all those taxes AND run the avengers AND run multiple massive corporations and still work out... even if you take away eating and sleeping there's just not enough time... it would be funny if he was just a tiny little boy underneath all that djndndbf

my otp: gonna say him and rhodey again. like i say, can never resist a good best friends to lovers dymanic.

my cross over ship: jdjshdhdh literally none i don't think about him enough to consider it <3

headcanon fact: 100% think he was the one to offer reed that money to star in a p*rno it's just so funny to me to imagine dhsnndnd

REED RICHARDS

how i feel about this character: HE'S MY BOY! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! like i guess it's paradoxical considering how similar he is to tony in some ways but man i just love reed so much. i so genuinely think reed richards is what tony stark fans want him to be. like they (mcu fans) make up elaborate headcanons of him being a good dad and an ethical billionaire and its like no that's reed richards? canonically he's gone broke bc he refuses to get money off his inventions... u have the wrong man... anyway he's also an asexual LEGEND i do not take criticism and ofc. autistic icon. literally he's so autistic it makes me <3 i love him dearly.

all the people i ship romantically with this character: it would be easier to list the people i DON'T ship with him lol. sue, obviously, victor ofc, and ben are the big ones, but i just LOVE his dymanic with t'challa and i think they would rlly work it... i also love the idea of him with namor, idk with victor it's just so funny to imagine reed as like. bizarrely attractive to rulers of foreign countries. blackagar faces the same problem <3 i also do believe him n hank pym dated in college for a bit... all their weird little microaggressions towards each other just makes me feel that way... again i do like him w/ tony and i made this weird au where he and emma frost got together which if prompted i WILL talk about. probably. more but yeah <3

my non romantic otp for this character: while i do LOVE them together as lovers i just love. benreed generally <3 like they're LITERALLY besties they love each other sm and i'm tired of pretending they don't????? so many people ignore this relationship and it makes me so sad!!! they're best friends they love each other fight for each other fight with each other theyre literally besties... smh put some respect on the benreed name 😤

my unpopular opinion of this character: i don't think this is that unpopular but it is in certain circles so! i genuinely think reed is the best marvel dad! like you can talk abt others all u want but the fact is that reed is the only character i can think of who has always been there in his kid's lives and has consistently put their needs first. like not saying other characters are bad but even at his worst writing he's always done his best for his kids and certainly has been full of love for them. other characters at their worse have. murdered their own kids <3 genuinely he's the best marvel dad and sure there's not a lot of competition but. yeah <3

one thing i wish would happen/had happened with this character: I WANT A CANONICAL AUTISM DIAGNOSIS NOW. literally he is SO autistic & there are... no big autistic marvel characters! at all! literally none! the closest we have is legion (who was written in an incredible ableist way and autism hasnt been used to describe him in a solid 30 years) and monet (and it turned out it wasn't monet but one of her twin sisters impersonating her :/) so it would just mean so much to see a canonically autistic character like reed who is older & has a wife and kids who he loves and who they love in return on panel. like so much of the rep we DO have is like, young kids or teens and idk an autistic adult would just mean so much to me. especially one like reed who is as selfless & loving as he is.

my otp: tie between doomreed and reedsue! any option that gets this noodle nerd lots of love i'm good for tbh

my cross over ship: him and ralph dibney from dc should date... they have so much in common... stretchy autistic man who's very smart and kind of silly who loves his wife sue who pegs him 🥴 they'd have so much to talk about sjbdhdhd also imagining the look on ben's face realising there's TWO of them is. so funny.

headcanon fact: he's aromantic he's asexual and neither of these stop him from his very meaningful & passionate relationship with his wife :)

assorted character ask game!

[salixj]

(December 21, 2020 / JNS) It’s one of the few rap videos around that features a lead singer in frockcoat, tallis and shtreimel—paired with a cascade of gold chains (one bearing a Magen David) and leopard-skin scarf—dancing with guys from the ‘hood facing off against others in Chassidic garb.

As such, “Mothaland Bounce,” where our hero proudly calls himself “Hitler’s worst nightmare,” reveals much about the man behind it and what it means to be a passionate and deeply committed Jew of color.

Because for Nissim Black—successful rapper, father of six and Orthodox Jew—the video makes a strong statement about how Jews of color merge their very disparate identities into a (nearly) seamless whole.

(Fans may want to check out Black’s newest rap video “Hava”—a thoroughly Nissim spin on the traditional “Hava Nagila”—its release timed for the first night of Hanukkah).

Black is perhaps the most famous of today’s Jews of color. (Readers of a certain age will recall when singer Sammy Davis Jr. could claim that honor).

Though the term itself has gained traction in the last decade, there have always been Jews of different races. Scan the globe today, and you’ll find Ethiopian Jews and the African Lemba tribe whose men test positive for the Kohen gene, a marker of the Jewish priests.

What’s more, many Sephardic, Cuban, Mexican and Yemenite Jews consider themselves Jews of color. Not to mention the murky waters surrounding pockets of the Black Hebrews found in Israel (largely in Dimona and Arad in the Negev Desert) and around the Diaspora, many of whom claim descent from the ancient Israelites.

The numbers are equally murky. Estimates range from 6 percent to 12 percent—or even as much as 15 percent—of today’s Jewish population being Jews of color. But there is little in the way of standardized definition of who is a Jew; some studies count all the members of a household as Jewish household when only one member actually is. But when researchers Arnold Dashefsky and Ira M. Sheskin held the disparate estimates of Jews of color up to the light of demographic standards earlier this year, they concluded that the percentage of Jews of color “is almost certainly closer to 6 percent nationally [from the 2013 Pew study] than 12 to 15 percent. And this percentage has not increased significantly since 1990, although it is likely to do so in the future.”

It stands to reason that this year of painful racial tensions across North America could trigger an internal debate in African-American Jews, especially those who came to the faith not through birth or adoption, but who, like Black, embraced Judaism as adults.

And embrace it many of them do—with passion, perseverance and a deep appreciation—often overcoming raised eyebrows, insensitivity and even downright racism in the process. With a surprising number of them finding their spiritual home in Orthodox Judaism.

Nissim Black

Damian Jamohl Black, whom the world knows now as rapper Nissim Black, was born into a family of Seattle drug dealers in 1986. His childhood was pockmarked by FBI raids on his home, his dad was taken away in handcuffs, and he was accustomed to assorted incidents of street violence and crime. By 9, he was smoking marijuana, and plants were growing in his room. By 12, he’d joined the family business.

The only faith Black was exposed to back then was his grandfather’s Islam. His first religious service? A mosque, which he attended until his grandfather went to prison.

But at 13, Black was pulled into Christianity by missionaries. He now says it was the best thing that could have happened to him. “This was the first time I was around people who had normal healthy relationships. No one sold drugs, they had a heart for kids from the inner city, and their summer camp was the most fun I’d had in my life,” he recalls. “Becoming religious saved me from the world of street gangs.”

By high school, he was “the poster child of the missionary center.” That’s when he met the woman who would become his wife. As a Seventh-Day Adventist, Jamie (now Adina) went to church on Saturdays. They wed in 2008 but remarried in an Orthodox ceremony after their conversion five years later.

By 19, Black was making rap music professionally, and his mother died of an overdose. But by 20, Christianity was beginning to feel foreign to him, and he began wondering what the Jews walking in his neighborhood on Saturday mornings were up to. “I went to Rabbi Google and found Chabad.org. And it all began to make sense,” he says. “I told my wife [they were newlyweds] that I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas and Easter anymore. Pretty soon, she was doing her own digging into Judaism.”

The couple’s conversion followed in 2013 and aliyah to Israel three years later. The Blacks now make their home in Ramat Beit Shemesh with their six children, ages 1 to 12. “I wanted my kids to grow up here,” he says, “where they’d see Jews of different shades all praying the same prayers.”

“I’ve checked every box, right?” he says with a laugh. “One rabbi at my yeshivah told me, ‘You have a lot of strikes against you: You’re black, you’re a convert and you’re a Breslov Chassid. And in all these things is your greatness.”

Maayan Zik

Maayan Zik was 13 when her soul woke her up. Growing up in Washington, D.C., with her mom and sister—her parents divorced when she was in first grade, and she didn’t see her dad for another 10 years—she attended Catholic schools and was close with her maternal grandparents, Jamaican immigrants who took her to museums and taught her the value of hard work and education.

Accompanying her Jamaican-born grandmother to church every Sunday, by 13, Zik had “begun to wonder if what my family believes is right for me.” She explored a number of world religions, but when she saw a photo of her light-skinned Jamaican great-grandmother Lilla Abrams, whom family lore says was Jewish, “I realized I had to go way back to find out who I am.”

When she moved to an apartment in 2005 in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., she noticed the previous tenant had a left up a poster of a white-bearded man. “I said to myself, ‘I’m going to find out who you are.’ The man turned out to be the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Two years later, after courses and a summer seminary program, she converted. Thirteen years later, now 36, Zik remains there—with her Israeli-born husband and four children. “This somewhat awkward coexistence that lives inside me” fades into the background when she begins to pray, she says. “Having a personal conversation with God as part of the Jewish people, it’s who I’ve always been; I just didn’t know it.”

Mordechai Ben Avraham

Black and Mordechai Ben Avraham are both African-Americans from the West Coast (Seattle and Los Angeles, respectively), and both found Judaism in their 20s. But their early environment could hardly have been more different.

Growing up in an affluent neighborhood with a successful businessman father and a professor mother, “my focus was on how someday I could make more money than my dad.”

Ben Avraham’s spiritual journey took him from Sufism to the Kabbalah until at 22 he experienced Shabbat in a Carlebach-style minyan. “It was like I was floating in outer space. This is what Jews do? This is amazing! The Torah, the prayers, this beautiful spiritual system God gave to the Jews for people to transform themselves—they literally grabbed my heart.” His conversion was complete in 2013 with his move to Israel three years later.

Now 39, the former TV producer is living in the heart of Jerusalem’s religious Mea Shearim neighborhood, working towards his rabbinical degree and publishing a book on the joys of Torah as a black Jew.

But why would anyone who’s already making a huge leap religiously and culturally choose to embrace Orthodoxy with its full menu of mitzvot, accepting the Torah as Divine and committing to living within halachah (Jewish law)?

“If someone is going to make this big of a change completely based on their need to go beyond, there’s a very real tendency to go what many would consider ‘all the way,’ ” says Henry Abramson, dean of Brooklyn’s Touro College and author of The Kabbalah of Forgiveness: The Thirteen Levels of Mercy in Rabbi Moshe Cordovero’s Date Palm of Devorah (2014), among other titles.

A shared history

Much of this tendency to search spiritually can be traced to African-Americans’ religious experience in America, adds Abramson. “Since the 1960s, we’ve seen the phenomenon of questioning the Christianity foisted on their slave ancestors.”

And though Islam has attracted many of these disenfranchised souls—in part, he says, because the black Muslim culture permeated prisons beginning in the 1960s—Judaism offers another option.

Ben Avraham maintains that, in a spiritual sense, Judaism may feel familiar to those raised in the black church. “Like Judaism, gospel Christianity is an intense personal relationship with God without any intermediaries,” he says.

This is a connection Ben Avraham experiences every day of his life. “Living in Mea Shearim, in a fundamental way, I’m around people who are just like me. I just connect with my Chassidic neighbors.”

A growing fissure

But after the 1960s and ’70s, when Jews fought alongside blacks for civil rights in the United States and in South Africa, “there’s been a growing fissure between blacks and Jews,” says Rabbi Maury Kelman who, as director of Route 613, a New York City conversion program, has welcomed many students of different races into his classes.

And, with last summer’s rise in violence between the African-American community and the religious Jewish community, primarily in New York,” says Black, “lately, it’s gotten uglier.”

‘I cried all the way home’

Not everyone in the Jewish community rolls out the proverbial red carpet for someone of color.

After working up the courage to walk into synagogue on Shabbat, Zik couldn’t miss the two women glaring at her, eventually yelling at her to get out and threatening to call the police before giving chase.

“I cried all the way home, but my friends would not let me give up,” she says. “I also knew from everything I’d read about the Rebbe, with his emphasis on love and kindness, that eventually this would be the right place for me.”

“Unfortunately, like in all communities, you’ll find the occasional ignorant Jew or racist,” allows Kelman, who offers programs on the importance of accepting the convert.

A time of racial tensions

With this year’s heated racial debates and demonstrations following the May 25 killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, where does that put Jews of color, with feet in both the African-American and Jewish worlds?

Zik, for one, helped lead a rally in Crown Heights this summer where black neighbors shared their experiences with racism. “It was a reminder,” she says, “that the Torah teaches us to protect the rights of all God’s children.”

And the learning goes both ways, she adds. “When black friends ask me if now that I’m Jewish, do I have money? I tell them about the Jews I know who struggle to pay for rent, food and their kids’ yeshivah tuitions. I tell them that, when I’ve had my babies, neighbors bring us meals and help furnish the nursery. People here always want to do another mitzvah.”

Ben Avraham also says he better appreciates African-American history because he is a Jew. “We can see our own story reflected in the Torah,” he says. “Our two peoples had so many struggles just to survive.”

Adds Black: “Just knowing there are black religious Jews can help the two communities see they aren’t completely separate after all—not to judge each other so quickly.”

Kelman agrees. “Black Jews can be a terrific bridge chiefly because they have credibility on both sides. It’s increasingly important to teach our fellow Jews that we’re a family that comes in different colors, that Judaism is colorblind,” he says. “Once they convert, they’re just as Jewish as any of us—and our diversity only strengthens us.”

‘Something bigger than myself’

By the end of “Mothaland Bounce,” the guys from the ’hood and the Chassids are dancing together with Black as ringmaster.

But it may be “A Million Years” that’s Black’s love letter to Judaism.

In this 2016 music video (with singer Yisroel Laub), Black takes a journey proudly carrying a Torah throughout Israel—archeological digs, mountain caves, a busy shuk (marketplace) and Jerusalem’s Old City—turning heads as he goes. (Don’t miss the moment when Black stops to let some haredi kids lovingly kiss the Torah), finally nestling it inside a synagogue’s ark.

“Since I was a kid, I was looking to be part of something bigger than myself,” says Black. “I prayed and prayed, and finally, I knew who I needed to be, a Jew, and where I needed to be, the Holy Land. It took time but now God’s answered my prayers. And one thing I know is that to God there is no such thing as color. He sees us for who we are inside.”

As he raps:

“I came from a distance Where everything was different … I called out to You And You showed me that You listened … I gave my all to You And You showed me who I am.”

[analogicisms]

Music & Poetry - Chapter Three

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3

AO3: Chapter Three

Thanks to @romantichopelessly, @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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Chapter Three

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sat at the bar, phone in hand as he watched the front door, waiting for the man that he had just met that morning. If Thomas had told him earlier that day that he would meet a really attractive guy and later agree to have drinks with him, Logan would have inquired whether or not the Dean of Students had lost his mind. Then again, not all the men he met were like this one. And thank goodness, or he would never get any work done. 

 Just then the front door opened and Virgil stepped in. Logan ignored the heat that suddenly radiated from his ears and thanked his lucky stars that the bar they had agreed on was pretty dark due to dim lighting. Virgil reached him and grinned that damned attractive smile. Unfortunately, though he was happy his own blush was hidden, the dim lighting meant he would not be able to see Virgil’s cute blush. 

All the more reason to spend more time with him, Logan, the poet told himself. It was a good thing that he had agreed to spend a whole week with him. 

 Laughing to himself, he reminded himself to not count his chickens before they hatched. 

 Let’s get through tonight first.

 “Hello again, Virgil,” he greeted the emo man, holding out his hand. He watched as Virgil smiled and took it, Though he wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking or not, Logan was fairly certain that the other’s face was just a bit darker across his cheeks. Damn but Virgil blushing did something to him. 

 “Heya, Logan.” A squeeze of his hand and it was released. Virgil took the empty barstool next to him and nodded in the general direction of the nearest bartender. “What’s your poison?”

 Logan considered. 

 “Scotch over ice, please.” 

 Virgil nodded and waved over a bartender. The bartender introduced herself as Quil and Virgil thanked her before ordering Logan a double shot of Scotch on the rocks and a White Russian for himself. 

 “A White Russian?” Logan inquired as he watched Quil walk away to make their drinks. “I am afraid I do not partake of alcohol usually and when I do drink I don’t usually stray from what I know.”

 “No worries, dude. A White Russian is a mixed drink made with Vodka, Kalua--that’s a coffee liqueur--and cream. It’s sweet but not too sweet like a lot of the other mixed drinks out there.”

 Logan nodded. “Why is it called a White Russian?”

 He watched as Virgil opened his mouth to answer but seemed to think better of it because he closed his mouth a second later. He then seemed to be in thought for a good few moments. A few seconds later Virgil shrugged. 

 “You know, I don’t actually know. I assume it is because it’s Vodka and the recipe gives it a sort of white, creamy color… but don’t quote me on that.”

 Logan considered the assumption and nodded. It definitely had merit, even if it wasn’t the actual reason. 

 “I suppose I can see that.” He nodded and allowed the little smile that tugged on his lips to spread across them. Virgil, his dark eyes meeting Logan’s, smiled back. Logan was very pleased to see the skin of Virgil’s cheeks darken just a bit once more. 

 Their conversation was paused when Quil returned with their drinks. Logan took his drink, eyeing Virgil’s with interest and curiosity. He sipped at his own, humming his pleasure as the rich, almost warm flavor coated his taste buds. A contented smile spread over his lips as the liquid slid down his throat and the drink was soon a steady but short-lived burn deep in his belly. 

 Opening his eyes, Logan caught his current company staring at him. When it was clear he had been caught, the other man blushed. This time there was no question in Logan’s mind that Virgil was blushing. A grin slipped onto his lips but he said nothing, allowing Virgil to glance away to catch his composure before the emo man looked his way again. 

 “So… how exactly do you plan to go about this little challenge?”

 Virgil blinked owlishly at him for a few moments, apparently having forgotten the whole reason they had started talking in the first place. Logan waited, certain it would come back to him soon enough. He was correct in his guess as a moment later, Virgil let out a sound of exasperation. 

 “Oh… yeah. Well, I honestly just planned to sit us down and play music for us to listen to… uh… together…”

 Logan smirked. 

 “What makes you think your company alone will make a difference?”

 Virgil shook his head. 

 “I don’t think my company will make a difference… not really. I do think that my insight into the music might help though.”

 Logan nodded. He had to hand it to the man. Though he was quite obviously not in Science or Medicine or Law, the man seemed to be pretty intelligent. 

 Attractive and smart… there is no way this man is this perfect.

 He did wonder at that. Usually, when people seemed too good to be true, it was because they were. Usually, his instincts were pretty reliable when it came to that and when they weren’t, common sense kicked in. In Virgil’s case, however, Logan felt as if he could already trust him. That didn’t mean he would not continue to be on guard but it did mean he could afford to relax a little. 

 Lifting his drink, he watched as Virgil did the same. He didn’t mean to stare but Virgil was far too fascinating. He was also very attractive. Logan was not used to being so interested in someone. Least of all a stranger. And yet, for some reason, Virgil didn’t feel like a stranger. 

 Uh oh. If he was actually feeling things then that was it. He was too far gone. 

 Remy is right. I am a disaster gay.

 He sighed. 

 Unfortunately, Virgil heard it. Immediately the look in the other’s eyes told him all the worries and fears that were suddenly invading the emo man’s mind. 

 Aha. He’s got severe anxiety.

 Well, that was okay. Logan might not have been in tune with his own feelings most of the time but, when it came to anxiety, typically common sense and logic were great combatants against it. 

 “I’m sorry, Logan. Am I keeping you out too late or--”

 Logan held his hand up and shook his head. 

 “No. I want to be here. If I thought it was too late or if I had not wanted to come, I wouldn’t have.”

 Blunt but to the point. No room for argument.

 Virgil still looked like he wanted to argue but Logan knew his logic was flawless and so the man said nothing. That was not good either though. 

 Logan frowned to see Virgil staring at his drink. Logan glanced at it too and it was then an idea came to him. Sure, it was not his style but he had seen similar flirtation tactics throughout his years as an adult and from the little he knew about Virgil, he was pretty sure this one would work. 

 Saying nothing, Logan reached out and took Virgil’s glass in hand, pulling it toward him. Virgil looked at him incredulously, eyes widening as Logan’s lips closed around the very same straw he had been sipping out from. Though he hadn’t necessarily chosen the tactic to taste Virgil’s drink of choice, the moment the concoction hit his tongue, he let out a happy sound. 

 “Oh. Wow. That really is good.” He smiled Virgil’s way, pretending not to notice the sudden flush of Virgil’s face which was now red enough that even the dimmed atmosphere of the bar could not hide it. Logan tilted his head, looking innocent. “You don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

 He then took another sip, this time holding the other’s gaze as he did. Another happy sound escaped him because truly--it was appetizing. Logan licked his lips as he set the glass back down on Virgil’s coaster, gaze still holding that of the other man’s. 

 “Unless you do mind sharing with me?”

   ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

💀 VIRGIL 💀

“Unless you do mind sharing with me?”

 Virgil was pretty certain that he was dreaming. He had somehow fallen asleep and dreamed Logan agreed to meet him and now that dream had made Logan a flirt and… 

 “Sorry.”

 Virgil blinked and shook his head. 

 “No! No it’s totally fine! Totally cool! No big!”

 Not as if you just indirectly kissed me or anything!

 Except that was exactly what he had done. Still, Virgil did not want Logan to feel as if Virgil minded his company or his tasting his beverage. 

 “We can um… we can share this one and get another after?”

 Virgil couldn’t help the blush that rose in his cheeks once more as Logan smiled agreeably. 

 “Sure. Perhaps you would like a taste of mine?”

 Virgil was so desperate for something to do, he took hold of Logan’s glass, brought it to his lips, and drank. Perhaps a little too deeply. 

 Swallowing hard, he coughed at the sudden intense burn. Setting the glass back down on Logan’s coaster, Virgil quickly drank from his own drink. 

 There’s that indirect kiss.

 Another blush. 

 “Should we flag down the bartender for another?”

 Virgil blinked and looked down at the glass in his hand. 

 “Oh. I didn’t realize I’d finished it.”

 “Well, I may have drank from it at first as a flirtation tactic but it truly is quite satisfactory in taste.”

 Virgil blinked. 

 “You just admitted to flirting with me…”

 This time Virgil caught Logan’s blush and he couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto his face.

 “I just worried that you might be talking yourself out of seeing it so I wanted to confirm… just so there is no question in your mind that I am attracted to you. I am also keeping myself from talking myself out of… whatever this is.”

 Virgil blushed as Logan’s blush doubled. 

 “Aren’t we just a nutty pair?”

 Logan nodded. Virgil smiled and looked away from Logan to flag down a bartender. Quil caught his movements and joined them a second later. 

 “What else can I get for ya?”

 “Two waters and another White Russian please.” 

 Quil nodded and made fast work of creating the beverages. Placing the waters down first, she then placed the White Russian in front of Virgil. 

 Thanking her, Virgil closed out their tab and tipped her. He then turned back to his date and smiled, lifting the glass to sip from the straw before passing it to Logan. He watched as Logan drank a sizable sip before it was passed to Virgil once more. 

 “I was serious, you know?” Virgil began, setting the drink down on its coaster. “About trying to change your mind about music… it wasn’t just an excuse to spend more time with you but… that is definitely a bonus that I don’t feel too bad about exploiting.” 

 He laughed deeply and leaned in closer to the other man who subconsciously mirrored his actions. There was very little space between them now. Virgil took in the other’s stormy grey eyes and the slight bags under his eyes. No doubt from late hours spent up writing. Virgil felt for him. 

 “I know.” 

 Virgil blinked. Logan smirked at him. 

 “It was because you were serious that my interest was piqued.”

 “Oh.” 

 Logan laughed, the sound almost melodic in the way it seemed to caress his eardrums. He shrugged and then slid a little closer to the edge of his barstool. Virgil watched as this caused the other’s knees to press against his own. Swallowing hard, Virgil brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck but forced himself to hold Logan’s gaze. He hoped it was not wishful thinking that the hungry look he saw in those deep grey eyes was there. 

 “Yeah… not every day some random stranger makes it his purpose to change my mind… which, I should warn you is not an easy task. The fact that you are really attractive and funny… those are bonuses for me. Your passion and conviction for music though, that I find very commendable, so I’ll allow you to try to change my mind. Just don’t be surprised if you cannot.”

 Virgil allowed a sheepish grin. 

 “I’m a lyricist. To me, lyrics are every bit the poetry that poets write. Just put to a melody. The melody pulls people in and the words get people to stay. They get people coming back.”

 “Well, now I understand why you were so adamant.”

 Virgil watched as Logan reached for the White Russian, his own beverage forgotten. He sipped deeply, the contented sound leaving him as his eyes met and held Virgil’s gaze. A smirk slowly slipped onto the poet’s lip as he continued to drink. Virgil raised a brow in curiosity but as Logan only continued to drink from the glass, it became clear that he was not going to stop unless Virgil stopped him. 

 “That good, hm?”

 Logan nodded, eyes bright. 

 “Then who am I to stop you.” 

 And then he winked. 

 Of all the stupid things⁠—oh my he blushes so prettily.

 Logan had indeed blushed at his wink.

 “Did you want—”

 Virgil shook his head. 

 “You drink it… I like the idea that I turned you on to White Russians.”

 Logan laughed at that and finished off the beverage.

 “Do you want another?” Virgil asked. 

 Logan shook his head, setting the glass back on the coaster. 

 “No… I actually don’t spend a lot of time in bars or drinking… not that there’s anything wrong with it, of course. Just do not typically have reason to. I do know, however, that I am not ready to end the night here with you… would you want to maybe walk around for a bit? Unless you need to call it a night. It is getting pretty late…”

 Virgil snorted. “For most people, sure. I don’t do a lot of sleeping at night. Insomnia.”

 Logan nodded in understanding. “Same.”

 Virgil left a couple more dollars for Quil and nodded at the door. 

 “A walk, though, sounds great.”

 Logan smiled and Virgil grinned in response. Neither made any motion to move, however, which had Virgil laughing. 

 “One of us is gonna have to move first and—”

 Lips pressed against his own out of nowhere, Virgil’s eyes widening before his brain and body got back on track with one another. Logan’s eyes were closed and so Virgil closed his own, pressing gently into the kiss. Logan was the one to pull away and it was his turn to look sheepish. 

 “Sorry about that… I just… I just really wanted to kiss you.”

 Virgil shook his head. 

 “No! Don’t apologize. I… I enjoyed it… a lot.”

 Virgil and Logan both blushed and giggled. The giggling only set them off more until they were laughing and clinging to each other. When they stopped to catch their breath, Virgil decided it was his turn to be brave and reached out, framing the other’s face with his hand before closing his eyes as he leaned in to kiss Logan a little more deeply this time. The kiss lasted longer than the first, Logan deepening it halfway through which only urged Virgil on. 

 “Ah… so… that walk…”

 Virgil nodded. 

 “Right. Walk.”

 Logan bit his lip and glanced down at his lap before looking up once more. 

 “My hotel is not far from here…”

 Virgil blushed but nodded.

 “Well, I suppose it’s time I walked you home.”

 With that, Virgil slipped from the barstool and, after some consideration, offered his hand to Logan. The man considered but ultimately took it, slipping off his own bar stool to join him. 

 Together, the two left the bar and walked out into the night. 

  ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer:  The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.

[trekkie-in-space]

With my brilliant friend @firechildslytherin5​ we brainstormed what was the connection between Martin, Gil and Endicott. What do they all have that Jessica like and is attracted to. And I think we come up with satisfying answers that could interest some of you.

Simply put : What is the type of guy Jessica is attracted to ? (skip to the end to just have the conclusion if you’re tired of reading the explanation)

Jessica is rich, her family is rich, her family was/is royalty around, she has power and is from a high class.

Martin originally comes from a lower class, he didn’t have as much money as his wife, and despite being a famous, extremely competent surgeon he didn’t make more money than his wife. And you can think, how come they became something in the first place ?

I think before she was married, Jessica must have had a lot of men turning around her, wanting to make her their wife. And I think one of the reasons she chose Martin, that she loved him is that, despite coming from a lower class, he was not afraid of her, of her power, of her money, or to compete with men that had more money/power/fame (at the time)/or that came from the same social status. He treated her as an equal. He probably took risk to seduce her too. And he was a promising surgeon with a brilliant career ahead of him, he was confident and not afraid to impose himself, not to stay in her shadow and make a name for himself and their family.

Letting Jessica express a more passive part of her personality, which don’t take me wrong, she is a strong woman that knows what she wants, she is not afraid to take command, but I think she loves to have someone do that for her too. I think she likes being taken care of in a certain way (I will develop more on that later).

Gil is very similar to Martin in a certain way. He is from a lower class, but when you see him with the Whitly or Jessica, he never looks like he doesn’t belong, even at the start when he first met the surgeon and arrested him. If he was impressed by the house and the wealth the Whilty had, he never shows it, keeping his calm, reserved but confident temperament, which he keeps nearly all of the time.

He doesn’t have the amount of money/power she has, nor come from the same world, but he doesn’t show any sign of inferiority to that which resonate with Martin being confident too. He made, just like Martin, a name of himself in police force, getting in a position of force and power (outside of police being already a position of force and power by nature). And he, from the start, took the role of a protector or helper. He helped the Whitly, he helped Malcolm, he has been and is there for them.

And more importantly, he had been there when they were at their lowest. When near all of Jessica acquaintance turned their back on her, judging her for what Martin had done. Gil didn’t judge, didn’t blame, he listened, understood and mostly didn’t care about what people said (because people might have found weird he gets closer to the Whitly, at the time they were just ‘the family of a serial killer’).

He took that position of protector/helper allowing her to fall back on a more natural way of functioning for her, being cared of (to some degree). And same as Martin, he treated her as an equal, not lower because she married a serial killer and didn’t see anything til it was revealed, nor superior because she is wealthy. He is not shadowed by her in any way, and don’t hesitate to impose himself if need be.

Endicott on his side is way simpler, and a bit different from Martin and Gil. First he is a bourgeois too, he has money, he has power and no reason to be afraid/impressed by Jessica wealth. They have the same ground of code too. But the most important thing is that he doesn’t care about what other people think.

He didn’t turn his back on Jessica, he is one of the few to still invite her and to probably have still invited her despite the reputation she has now because of Martin’s serial killer career. In a world where the image and reputation is important, he decided to do what very few people did, not to judge Jessica on her ex-husband action.

But it’s not just inviting her, it’s rescuing her from a rude guest that enjoy having their little superior kick talking about Martin past. And he was rightfully rude to his other guest to help out Jessica. Serving everything Jessica loves and is definitely attracted to, dominance, confidence, no shit given for what other think, help/protection. He is still one of the few that care about her and is not afraid to invite her on more casual/intimate moments, giving her the attention she lack since her ex-husband got arrested.

But same as the other, he treats her as an equal, she is not a pretty girl you order to ‘shut up and be pretty’ and he doesn’t treat her like one, he is not afraid of leaving her room to express herself, he doesn’t feel shadowed by her and doesn’t put what she says in question, or belittle her in any way.

I know I’m missing some detail in those three profiles, but you get the picture overall.

In conclusion : Jessica is attracted by men who are confident, who doesn’t care about what other think, that have some power position (surgeon/police/director), who have a nature of helping other (being a doctor for Martin, being Policeman for Gil + Helping their family and mostly Malcolm, Raising money/helping cause for Endicott (and we all know how Jessica love to raise money for stuff to help), who have somewhat a dominant attitude, but a controlled one, they all act as equal around her and doesn’t let her power shadow them, nor belittle her in anyway (mostly for Gil and Endicott considering her ex-husband). They all allow her to express a more sensible and ‘fragile’ part of her personality and nature. They all care about her and are willing to help/understand/listen/help her (mostly for Gil and Endicott) in anyway she needs.

I guess that’s the profile I would dress on the type of men she is attracted to.

+ Bonus on why Gil/Jessica is still not done

In the last episode (S01E18) we all seen a jealous Gil and almost embarrassed Jessica, as if she had ‘cheats’ even though they don’t have any romantic relationship going on. We all, more or less, seen they’ve been turning around each other from some time now, but nothing is done, so technically she wasn’t ‘cheating’.

And Gil knows that and he is jealous because he realizes Jessica might find and start something with someone else/Endicott.

The key difference between Endicott and Gil, is that Gil is still too ‘passive’, he is too calm, not enterprising enough with his relationship with her, he doesn’t lead the dance enough for her and I think that’s why they are still not an item yet. And Gil knows that (after all, jealousy is a problem with your own insecurity) and I think he knows, or at least Endicott might make him realize that he might need to impose himself a bit more if he wants something with Jessica, Things is, it’s not really in his nature, not to this point at least. He will have to go out of his comfort zone a bit.

[claudia1829things]

"The Demand For An Ideal Woman"

"THE DEMAND FOR AN IDEAL WOMAN" Recently, the STAR WARS movie, "STAR WARS: EPISODE I - THE PHANTOM MENACE" achieved a milestone. Twenty years has passed since it initial release in theaters in May 1999. However, there have been other recent or upcoming events within the STAR WARS franchise. One of them is the upcoming release of the third Sequel Trilogy movie in December. Another was the recent release of a Young Adults (YA) novel called "Queen's Shadow", the first stand alone story about the Prequel Trilogy's leading lady, Padmé Amidala.

 Many fans, especially women, celebrated the release of "Queen's Shadow". Written by EK Johnston, the novel focused on a period in Padmé's life, when her career underwent a transformation from the elected monarch of Naboo to a senator of Naboo. This meant that the novel was set sometime during those ten years between "THE PHANTOM MENACE" and "STAR WARS: EPISODE II - ATTACK OF THE CLONES". More importantly, this novel featured the first time that Padmé was the main protagonist in any STAR WARS movie, television production or novel. "Queen's Shadow" also led many fans to contemplate the idea of Padmé surviving the birth of her twin children, Luke and Leia, and becoming a leader for the early manifestation of the Rebel Alliance. More importantly, the novel and the 20th anniversary of "THE PHANTOM MENACE" has revived the fans' never ending complaint that filmmaker George Lucas should have portrayed Padmé as an ideal character . . . a feminist icon. As a woman, the idea of a leading woman character as a feminist icon sounds very appealing. But as a lover of films and novels, I tend to harbor a strong wariness toward such characters - regardless of their gender. Recently, some fans have suggested that Padmé should have been the main character of the Prequel Trilogy (1999-2005) and not her husband, Anakin Skywalker. Considering that Anakin eventually became Darth Vader from the Original Trilogy (1977-1983), I found this suggestion a little hard to swallow. Even worse, I find the constant complaints that Lucas had "ruined" Padmé's character, due to the manner of her death in "STAR WARS: EPISODE III - REVENGE OF THE SITH", rather tiresome and pedantic. As I have pointed out in a previous article about Padmé, I found nothing wrong with a person succumbing to death due to a "broken heart" or allowing one's emotions to affect his/her health. Such deaths have actually occurred in real life. And considering that Padmé was in the third trimester of her pregnancy, had endured a series of traumatic events in her professional and personal life, including a recent attack by a jealous Anakin, the circumstances of her death did not surprise me, let alone anger me. In regard to the idea that Padmé should have been the main protagonist of the Prequel Trilogy Amidala . . . this did not make any sense to me. Like Han Solo and Leia Organa in the Original Trilogy, Padmé was a major supporting character in the Prequel Trilogy. The real focus of the Prequel Trilogy was Anakin Skywalker, which made sense considering he proved to be the catalyst of the Jedi Order's downfall and rise of the Galactic Empire. And in his own way, Padmé and Anakin's son, Luke Skywalker, was the Original Trilogy's main character. Although Ewan McGregor was the leading actor in the second and third films of the Prequel Trilogy, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the central character. It was still Anakin. And I do not recall any film in STAR WARS franchise being made solely about Obi-Wan. Oh yes, there had been plans for one, but due to the failure of "SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY", Disney Studios had decided to curtail any Obi-Wan solo film. Yet, many did not complain. Many had bitched and moaned about how Lucas treated Padmé's character, because he had conveyed her weaknesses, as well as her strengths. He did the same with many male characters. Apparently, certain people cannot deal with a major female character's weaknesses being on display, unless she is either the main character or in a drama. What am I saying? Many people still cannot make up their mines on whether they want the Rey character from Disney's Sequel Trilogy to be ideal or flawed. On the other hand, I once came across an article - it might have come from "The Mary Sue Blog" but I am not sure - claimed that the problem with Padmé was not that she was not allowed to have flaws. This person claimed that the that moviegoers saw her as a problem solver who never gave up in the first two movies. The article also added that Padmé was not someone who would give up the will to live. A few years ago, I had written an ARTICLE that discussed Padmé's mistakes in all three Prequel Trilogy movies and argued that she was not the "flawless" or "ideal" character that many still regard her as. I had also pointed out that in "STAR WARS: EPISODE III – REVENGE OF THE SITH", Padmé had experienced the loss of the Galactic Republic, the rise of the Galactic Empire, the loss of her husband to Palpatine and the Sith, and his physical attack on her in a brief space of time – within two days or less. As someone who had recently experienced personal loss, I understood why she had given in to emotional despair. I had only experienced one loss. Padmé did not. Just because she was able to not give up and overcome a situation in the past, did not mean that she would always be able to do this. I still recall the "BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER" Season Five episode called (5.21) "The Weight of the World" in which the main protagonist, Buffy Summers, had went into a catatonic state after she failing to prevent her younger sister Dawn from being abducted by the season’s Big Bad, a hell demon called Glory. Buffy had failed to overcome her state of catatonic depression on her own. She needed help and she eventually got it in the form of one of her closest friends, Willow Rosenberg. There was no Willow to help Padmé deal with her emotional state during the downfall of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Padmé had no Willow to deal with the emotional trauma of Anakin's transformation into a Sith Lord or his attack upon her. Instead, she had to deal with going into premature labor and giving birth to twins. I hate to say this, but neither Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda or Bail Organa were as emotionally close to Padmé as Willow Rosenberg was close to Buffy Summers. And instead of providing emotional support to her, the two Jedi Masters and the senator were more focused on her going into labor and giving birth. There is something about today's feminism that truly irritates me. Women (both in real life and in fiction) are not allowed to be flawed. Actually, I think today's feminists and sexist men have that trait in common. Both groups demand that women be ideal in a way THEY believe women should be ideal. For feminists, women should be some all knowing saint, who can kick ass and have a successful career outside of the home. For sexist men (or men in general), women should be attractive or beautiful bed warmers, home carers and emotional crutches. Women are expected to revolve their lives around the men in their lives. Women in real life are not allowed to be flawed - especially if they are famous. And fictional women - especially those who are major characters in an action story - are definitely NOT ALLOWED to be flawed. Especially someone like Padmé Amidala. I do not believe that Lucas had subjected Padmé's character with weak writing. I think too many fans were too prejudiced to allow her to be a complex woman with both strengths and weaknesses. They had wanted . . . no, they had demanded she be some feminist icon. While complaining about Padmé's character, they would always compare her with her daughter, Princess Leia Organa aka Skywalker. The ironic thing is that Leia was no more of a feminist icon than her mother. Leia had her own set of flaws. Yes, she was an intelligent and capable political leader, who was also knowledgeable about military tactics and defending herself. Leia also possessed a tough demeanor and a sharp wit. On the other hand, Leia harbored a hot temper, impatience and a penchant for being both judgmental and an emotional coward. Nor was she the type to be forgiving (except with certain people). Two of Leia's flaws - her temper and being judgmental - were on full display in the 1980 movie, "STAR WARS: EPISODE V - THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK". In that film, she had supported Chewbacca’s angry and murderous attack upon Lando Calrissian, after the latter was forced to betray them to Darth Vader and the Empire. During that scene, both Leia and Chewbacca’s anger got the best of them at a time when it should not have. Neither had pondered over how the Empire had arrived on Bespin before them. Nor did they ever considered that Vader had coerced Lando into choosing between betraying Han and them or watching the Empire destroy Bespin and its citizens. Many fans have also complained that George Lucas had failed to explore Padmé's backstory . . . especially in "THE PHANTOM MENACE" and "ATTACK OF THE CLONES". I found this complaint rather hypocritical. Lucas had never bothered to explore Leia or her future husband Han Solo's backstory in the Original Trilogy films. Yet, no one or very few people have complained about this. When Disney Studios finally green-lighted a movie about Han's backstory, many film goers and media outlets like "The Mary Sue Blog" bitched and moaned about how it was not necessary. I suspect they had made this complaint, because it was easier than criticizing how Disney Studios/Lucasfilm had handled the movie's production and theatrical release. Is it any wonder that I found this complaint that a movie about Han's backstory was not necessary, but Padmé's was? And to this day, no one has complained about a lack of Leia's backstory in the 1977-1983 films. Look, I am happy that a novel about Padmé Amidala has been written. And I find it interesting that STAR WARS fans will get a chance to peek into those years between "THE PHANTOM MENACE" and "ATTACK OF THE CLONES". But I must admit that I found myself getting irritated that so many have used the novel's upcoming release to criticize George Lucas' portrayal of her character. It seems obvious to me that a great deal of their criticism is wrapped around a lot of hypocrisy, an inability to understand human nature and a definite lack of attention toward what actually happened to Padmé in the Prequel Trilogy. I cannot help but feel that some people need to realize that in contemplating feminism, they also need to factor in the concept of human nature . . . and good writing. Good writing or a strong character is not one who can do no wrong or be strong, 24/7. A strong character, for me, is someone who possesses both strengths and weaknesses . . . or virtues and flaws. As far as I am concerned, George Lucas had included all in his creation of Padmé Amidala.

[ckcker]

Preparations For a Body That Will Accept Anything

At the 3-story leather bar, I was took with the passing memory of the woman at the suburban street art fair who sold prints of her digital collages which mostly layered closeups of leaves with washed out details of a shiny face or medium shot of a nude body, turned away.  “These are all digital collages made with my original images” she explained.  A lily pad leaf with holes and computerized discoloration was placed over the muscled ass and lower back of a blonde man with his profile clipped in atmospheric glow filters.  I completed the perimeter of her booth, which stood out from the woodworking/practical crafts and cityscape photos on wraparound canvas that dominate these kinds of events. In her space, a nymph-like quality and color palette you might associate with the lives of nymphs predominated, communicating the highest rigor of a paganistic fashion shoot.  She turned to a woman approaching her booth and said “these are all digital collages made with my original images.”  

The 3-story leather bar had its own approach to nature.  Importantly, it was named after an animal, and the animal most critical to the identity of the United States.  Conventional urinals were replaced with a long trough, bringing to mind rustic farm life and the day to day experience of domesticated animals.  High on the priority list of the men filling the space was the task of infinite looking around.  Evaluating a face and body in a swarm of people and occasionally speaking to the face and body evaluated.  This was prime nature: silent looking, but not silent in fact as usually a mouth accentuated the other direction of an eye.  A man approached me leading with his lit phone, “has anyone ever told you you look like him?,” the image of a famous and often arrested young actor on his screen.  “Yes, a few times.”  Being spoken to is obviously less interesting than silent looking in a place like this.  Humans enjoy staring at animals, at vistas, at trees, I won’t accept they abuse with curiosity alone, ahahaha, nature’s voyeur, “I’m gay” I thought, as an older man attempted to place his hand in my pee stream before it reached the piss trough.  Our eyes didn’t meet before I said “no” in the tone of disciplining a pet and jerked my cock away.  I did not want his hand in my pee stream and did not even give myself a chance to think about it.

When I was able to observe it, I observed that my neighbor Rob went out a lot.  I usually preferred to stay in and experienced going out by not moving and then by watching people move for me.  Some part-memorized quote on the longevity of the action movie guided this habit of mine, that action movies remain popular because they convince a viewer’s mind that they themselves are catapulting their bodies then holding a gun sideways, punching a face that deserves it until its new form is noticeable, screaming at an approaching animal villain or rock.  The action movie takes our bodies back to a primeval routine of violent exercise and the bodies react by pretending we did something crucial. My experience of watching men reveal both their well-exercised and freely ignored bodies through a sexual broadcast was equivalent to being in the same room as a TV showing the poorly received 9th season of a popular police drama watched by a cousin I hadn’t seen in 6 years, its audio annihilating the interesting chirps of two sparrows outside the window, that I turn and look at directly only once before I decide it’s time to leave the room.  But in some cases such broadcasts were enough surreptitious movement for my body to feel a moment free from the control of my memory and mind. I noticed Rob coming back at various times: 2:33, 1:02, 1:35, 4:21, always in the AM, 1:56, 3:22, 3:06, 5:10, 2:09.  The men coughed, rotated, considered viewers “weak little faggots who need my cock,” 3:46, 12:47, some laid on their sides for several hours, shirtless but not totally sexual in their presentation, some kinda hesitation in their eyes as if testing the world to see if the world thought them attractive.  I felt shanked by what I interpreted as hints of stapled longing in their faces, all of my senses indicated that I was living in the Koyaanisqatsi of porn.  Keeping secrets in the era of social media is an aggressive method of remaining unshared. Yet the spills from certain years stay sticky and even sometimes find a way to tower over me.  Until they are presented to other people, the gore associated with those lost frenzies remains uncleared, yes, freedom fries mist in freezers past like Chrysippus' ass, who made him laugh to death, mhmm.  

Since there had to be an afterimage to the disappearance of an old life, it had to be this: relaxed by the hands off finesse of fate, I lazily controlled myself to decide there wasn’t any other choice but fate.  Always available to the world was my face, to just hide it with a mask or veil would only bring more charged glances or wild guesses.  To be conceived of as sexy was blood-curdling.  I looked up the plastic surgeon with the lowest cumulative online rating, it was Gabe Jenkins and I called the office.  After hearing a high octave off-phone grunt, a voice said

“Dr Jenkins office?”

“Hi do you” I experienced a brisk intake, “Do you do all kinds of” here I laughed like I was trying to encourage someone I thought of as insecure after they made a difficult-to-react-to joke during a conversation “plastic surgery?”

“Yes we offer a number of options,” they responded without interest.

My lack of response gave the woman some go ahead to list the procedures, “breast enhancement, fillers, nose reconstruction, face lift, buttocks enhancement, some men like the calf implants, pec implants, jaw reshaping.  What are you looking for exactly?”

“I have some — a few ideas.  I” I looked at a long strand of black hair that hung from the stationary ceiling fan and was not mine “want to…look like — is it possible to make my face look older? I specifically would like forehead lines and crow’s feet.  And if there is a way to get my neck to sag lower than it is now that would be great. I am 27, I would like to look at least 78 if possible, hello?”

The voice had interest in it, “please don’t call here again if you are going to waste our time.”

“I am being very serious.  I would like plastic surgery to look older,” and there was silence.  

I considered what I could say to make it real. “Please, I would like the procedures done as soon as possible, there is a big gala I will be attending in Singapore next month” but I fear-laughed and the woman exited.  

I had no thoughts to live for, and then suddenly in a breakthrough moment I discovered that, after many many months, I had a thought: I should slowly begin to get plastic surgery to look older.  Now I needed money to make this happen.  Because then my disappearance would appear more accurate.  With the jowls of a 92 yr old man I would feel liberated.  But that wasn’t enough — I wanted more than anything to reproduce the appearance of a man well over 100.  In fact my thought revealed to me that I was a futurist because I would only settle for looking as old as someone whose life expectancy extended to at least 173.  I wanted to be old in a way no one had yet even imagined.  This would involve a lot of planning, sketching, file-saving and interviewing, and would likely be the type of initiative that lasts an entire life, and I would start with forehead lines.  An ease-in for the body and for the eyes of those that recognized me, and achievable with a budget eyebrow pencil for now.  Keeping costs down was a second thought that entered exactly behind the first thought that appeared after many months.  The eyebrow pencil could also be used for crow’s feet, frown lines, liver spots; but the application of frail sag on my neck, the indistinct recognition of the world suggested by the droop of eyes, the tint play of bald spots under white hair that is shiny and limp, the lowered vocal octave and general bodily slackening were all protruding costs. If I could not formulate, participate in or witness a revolution then I would elect to suffer a much more minor revolution that you might try to call a celebrolution.  As, though the actions and voices that built up the center of what we celebrate as a ‘political climate’ had shifted in an obvious external pivot towards a ‘something totally else,’ it still stood despite the panic that the country needed to focus on the opinions and physical movements of celebrities, and actually not ‘despite’ but ‘because of.’  And plastic surgery was often used by celebrities to command and maintain the public’s focus by recreating a version of themselves they believed responsible for their entry point into wealth and unhinged visibility. Since I was not known for anything and in fact could even be summarized as a loser or more accurately lost, and that I could barely string a sentence together and sometimes ate peanut butter sandwiches and then looked at my hands to discover I had actually eaten an entire pen — this meant my use of plastic surgery could be a revolution in my opportunities. That is, the opportunities that trickle down from achieving grotesque notoriety.  A celebrolution to solve a chunky lil personal puzzle.  

I knew the lines in my palms very well, and so I looked forward to the inevitable submission of lines all over my face because I wanted to know those lines just as well.  I wanted to know them as well as I knew the tone of no worries found in the whoosh sound effect that separates two segments of an entertainment news TV show.  It became a sound I carried with me everywhere, I’ve looked at birds fly past me and heard the sound, communicating that something is leaving.  It gave me a short leak of light, in a moment, and then I could not wait to see what came next.  It was a sound I would need as a score for the before/after of my first forehead-aging and chest droop surgery.  I can definitely say that I’ve had a bird fly past me before.  I simply wanted more free time to formulate a plan for my future appearances, it filled my thoughts all day long. Monetarily I was forsaken, choked out and in need of unbound frondescence.  I never stopped thinking I had some level of luck, I had two lamps, but then there was the job which was just about all I could handle, and, full-time-as-part-time to its core, it tossed me about, took time away from my obsessions, and so I repressed and regularly said ‘yes’ to survive.  At work there was Rachel, who had been entranced by Tom Hiddleston and who first introduced the word ‘clopening’ to me, and Gifford, whose name I could not disassociate from Gabrielle Giffords, and Steven, whose quick rescuing reaction to an elderly customer’s near dive over an uninhibited bag of packing peanuts resulted in the customer’s maximum level of comfort and safety, considering the stakes.  That lack of hesitation in making a decision, and in making the right decision, the most helpful and societally selfless decision, caused me to immediately respect Steven.  So when he found the time to comment on something to me, I tried very hard to engage.  As he explained to me during a lunch break, “The USA does not exist. The White House does not exist. They are using holograms to deceive everyone. God destroyed Earth by fire. And these demon parasites knew it and fled and hid from God and God’s army. Well, they lost. God rules and is in control. Stop watching media. They are lying to everyone. The media all sold their soul to Illuminati demons and are no more. There is nothing more than demons and clones using holograms to run deception. Better wake up. The Heavenly Bodies are right above your head.”  And then he would laugh like he didn’t care if it was true.

[hellomissmabel]

Practice what you preach (2)

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Mobster!Bucky x reader, pornstar!Steve x reader, BuckyNat

Warnings: As the queen of plot twists, I warn you now for the next parts. This part contains mentions of sex, cheating, a sex tape and cruel intentions.

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: “All good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you” has never been more true. Mob boss Bucky Barnes asks his childhood friend Steve Rogers for a favour he will end up regretting.

A/N: thanks @angryschnauzer for the pic that started it all! And thank you @whyisbuckyso for being my waistress Ari!

Series masterlist can be found here

Sliding into the seat opposite the redhead, you give her a wicked grin when her eyes rise up to lock with your eager ones. “Hello, Natasha,” you greet Bucky’s wife, the tip of your tongue purring her name. “I have an early birthday present for you.”

Natasha doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone and gets straight to it, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest as she quirks a curious eyebrow at you. “Did you get it?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm while opening your purse and taking out the small package, gift-wrapped with a large red bow as the cherry on top. Her fingertips eagerly reach for it but you hold off on giving it to her for a little longer, pursing your lips as you question her about her end of the deal.

Groaning and gritting her teeth at your playful bargaining, she put a tiny velvet box right next to your parcel. “As requested. You did make me curious as to what it contains. Bucky doesn’t keep an inventory on the dirt he collects, so I couldn’t find out myself.”

At the same time, you both accept each other’s offer and take what is respectively yours now. You reach for the velvet box and Natasha grabs the package. With a smirk you put it away in your purse, the redhead mirroring your smugness as she orders you both a glass of champagne to celebrate a successful exchange.

“It’s best if you don’t know, Nat,” you warn her with determined eyes, waving over the waiter. “A glass of red wine, please.” The young lad disappears and a few seconds later appears with your order. Meanwhile you assess Natasha’s stance, the way she owns the seat she’s sitting in with more than a dash of self-confidence.

“Are you coming to the party?,” she queries casually after taking a sip from her glass. “Bucky is turning it into this huge event, claiming it’s for my birthday but really, he’s just doing it to display his new wealth after we got married.” She taps the glass with her fingernail, painted a crimson red. “He and I haven’t been intimate in a very long time, after… you know what… happened. I believe he’s taking on a new mistress.”

Her tone drops dangerously low, but there’s a softness to it that betrays her vulnerability. Maybe somewhere she still cares for Bucky. “I don’t regret anything, Y/N, I want you to know that. I just wanna get out as quickly as possible. Saying yes to Bucky was a big mistake. I thought I’d never find love until…”

You cast down your eyes as the tips of your ears grow pink. “You don’t have to say it, Nat, I know.” Smiling sourly while curling your lips into a grin, the red liquid smooths your throat as you finish your drink in a matter of seconds. “This wine is terrible, by the way.”

Your comment makes Natasha chuckle, and she pours some of the bottle of champagne sitting on her side of the table in your glass. When you lock eyes with her and quirk an eyebrow, she simply shrugs and says “I feel like celebrating, don’t you?”.

The party is in full swing when you arrive. Fashionably late, you’d argue, but considering the dirty looks some of the other girls are throwing in your direction you figure that your dramatic entrance is only appreciated by the male audience. Wearing a midnight blue dress with a deep V-neck, you’re damn sure you’ll attract all the attention necessary to alert Bucky his ex-employee has arrived.

At the bar there is no empty seat, so you are forced to search for a vacant spot in the less occupied lounge. The chances of running into Bucky here are far less favourable than at the main bar, an you’ll be damned if you take a seat at one of the dinner tables as you’re fairly certain there’s no spot reserved for you. The only reason Bucky might want you here is to spite you, to rub into your face that he’s got a new girl, much younger and much prettier than you.

After you’ve finished your third cocktail, a fourth one arrives even though you didn’t order anything yet. The night hasn’t been very fruitful, as all the men look down your cleavage more than they lock eyes, and you want them to see you because you need their lips to bring it to Bucky’s ears that you’re still waiting for him. But it doesn’t happen, until another sex on the beach is brought to your table by one of the waitresses, an Indian girl with extremely beautiful, black hair.

“From the guy in the velvet jacket, with the long dirty blond hair and the full beard,” she tells you with a foxy smile, twisting her hair around her finger while swaying her hips at you and leaning in close to whisper under her breath. “He’s a very famous guy. You’re one lucky girl.”

Her name tag reads Ari and you thank her kindly as you throw a quick look over the girl’s shoulder at the man she referred to. “Well, Ari, I don’t know him. Maybe he isn’t that famous after all.”

“Oh, girl, don’t be a fool.” She shakes her head and writes something down on the notepad she fished out of the back pocket of her tight leather pants.

Her dark brown eyes are playful as she hands over the note to you, on it scribbled a name you believe belongs to the mystery man. “Look him up, but do it subtly. If you find any videos, make sure you don’t have you sound on or you’ll definitely regret it.”

With a final wink, she turns her back on you and the gorgeous Indian waitress disappears into the crowd again, serving drinks to other customers in the booths surrounding you. Every now and then her eyes rest on you again, especially when she notices you’re still on your phone and trying to keep a poker face while you research the name she’s given you. Steve Rogers, also known under his pornstar name, Dick Hardwood.

Meanwhile Steve slides two hundred dollar bills into the palm of the waitress that slipped you the note. “Thanks, Ari, baby.” The smirk on her face is undeniable as she taps her cheek, expecting him to give her a small kiss as another tip for her services. Steve all too quickly agrees and pecks her cheek. “She took the bait. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m going to hold off a little longer and let her come to me. According to Bucky that’s the best approach to get her into bed the quickest and longest.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you on that, Dick,” Ari coos seductively, nudging his nose with the tip of her finger yet he bats her hand away before she can do it a second time. “This girl wants to be conquered. Like a queen, like a precious treasure chest. She ain’t gonna come to you just because you’ve got a renowned cock.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve shushes her as her voice tends to increase in volume the more she speaks about his member in the downstairs department. That always happens when he meets a ‘fan’. “I’m going.”

The blond man struts over to the girl on the picture Bucky gave him, the girl he is supposed to seduce and sleep with, to keep busy while Bucky’s men search her apartment. For a split second he feels a pang of guilt for his bad intentions. Bucky could’ve easily have hired another man less honourable of heart, who would use her up and never think of her again.

Though that’s not Steve. He gets off on pleasuring women, on making it all about them and not him. And tonight he intends to do the exact same with his target, Y/N Y/L/N.

“Hello beautiful,” he greets you as he flashes his pearly whites. You are surprised he actually came to you first, considering that’s not what Bucky’s general approach is with the ladies, fully aware that this man was sent by the mob king himself. Why else would a porn star be interested in the likes of one of Bucky’s old flames?

Because they believe you have something that they want.

Tag list: @melconnor2007 @learisa @mrshopkirk @dont-speak-just-read @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @lovemarvelousfics @pleasantdreamqueen @petersunderroos @movingonto-betterthings @palaiasaurus64 @ssweet-empowerment @lovemarvelousfics @rrwilson66 @petersunderroos  @reniescarlett  @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @barnes-heaven  @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival  @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven  @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @a-little-hell-to-raise @knittingknerdy  @winterboobaer @hymnofthevalkyrie  @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @howlingbarnes  @themcuhasruinedme @persephonesinferno @hollycornish   @delicatecapnerd @tomhollandzs  @aletheladyinred @xbergiex @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers  @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @autijahnerd13s-blahg @sophiealiice @sarahmatthews7 @lumelgy @kudosia @daringtodreamawake @moonbeambucky @suz-123 @breezy1415 @always-an-evans-addict @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @curvybihufflepuff @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @pineapplebooboo @thefridgeismybestie @supernatural508 @supernaturaldean67@cant-decide-at-this-moment @mehrmonga @specs15 @kanupps06 @imnotinsanehunny @sarahgracej @jasurahe13 @nerdyandproud9 @geeksareunique @jesspfly @badassbaker @whenallsaidanddone @ailynalonso15 @thebookisbtr @animechick725 @wheneggsymetbucky @true-queen-of-mischief @debzybrazy

[acidblackpirate]

A Bonding Chat (Part 1)

„Take that!“, yasu shouted and slammed his thumb down on the console again and again.

Ka-yu’s eyes were fixed on the screen, desperately trying to survive, so yasu wouldn’t win the game.

“You really think you can beat me that easily?”, ka-yu exclaimed loudly.

Their arguments could get heated over games like this.

“Fuck!”, yasu swore and then his half of the screen froze, while ka-yu’s spelled out the glorious three letters W – I – N.

“Ha, told you”, he said with a grin and leaned back on the couch. “Man, this is the most fun I had in a long time.”

Yasu raised his eyebrows at him doubtfully. He had the long blonde hair done up in a ponytail and his full lips seemed a little chapped. Ka-yu thought he looked gorgeous like that.

“I didn’t have sex in a long time, you see”, he added as an explanation.

Throwing back his head, yasu laughed. His Adam’s apple bounced slightly as he did. It was kind of sexy.

Ka-yu shook his head lightly.

He really needed to get laid, if he started to look at his best friend like that. It was yasu, after all. Of course, he was attractive and all, but in the end, he was just the dork he had grown up with.

For a while he had considered asking him out, he had to admit that. Right after finishing school and moving out, he had thought that maybe they could make it work if only he took the first step. But then they had gotten serious with music and all of a sudden, they were work colleagues and he had just dropped the idea. There was no point in making it complicated.

“I know!”, yasu sighed. “When has it gotten so damn hard to get laid?”

“I mean, we’re rockstars, right?”, ka-yu joked. “Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“I think that’s exactly the problem”, yasu said. “It might cause a scandal so easily. And you can’t pick up someone anonymously. Actually, I thought about trying on the internet. With a fake account, you know?”

Ka-yu furrowed his brow.

“That’s stupid and desperate”, he pointed out.

Yasu shrugged.

He had never been scared of that. Some of his outfits managed to definitely be both.

“But think of the advantages! I’m a pretty kinky guy. On the internet you can just state your preferences anonymously and find someone who is cool with them. In real life you can’t just walk up to someone with a rope and ask: Hey, how you feel about this?”

He made a thoughtful pause.

“At least that never worked out for me. A girl slapped me once”, he added.

Ka-yu rolled his eyes but had to laugh at the same time. Sometimes it was hard to tell how serious yasu was about what he said.

He had to admit that he had a point, though. Ka-yu had a preference himself that was hard to fulfil lately. There had been girls, a lot of girls. But at the moment he longed for someone who was different. Someone with a nicely defined chest and strong hands with veins showing on them; someone like yasu. But picking up guys was significantly more difficult than it was with girls – even more so if you were kind of famous and wanted to keep a low profile.

“It’s still stupid”, he insisted and saw a bad idea forming behind yasu’s eyes.

They always started to glisten with that certain glow when he did.

“Hey, I have an idea. We both place ads on some sex site and see how it goes. Doing it alone is sad, but if we do it together, we can always have a laugh at it if it turns out to be a disaster. And in the best case, we even find someone to get laid with.”

Ka-yu groaned.

“No, yasu, just no.”

He wondered if he could find a hot guy like that. Someone who made him stop noticing the way his best friend pursed his lips or that his arms looked like he had been working out lately.

Yasu picked up the gaming console again.

“Tell you what. If you win this round, I’ll forget about it. But if I win … oh boy.”

Oh boy, indeed.

***

Ka-yu had put it off as long as he could.

Originally, he had promised to do it in the evening, but then he had went to sleep early instead.

Yasu hadn’t called to check on him yet, but it was only a matter of time. Sure, he could have lied to him, but that was not how their friendship worked. Whoever lost the game had to keep their promises.

He stared at the computer screen. Ka-yu had no idea where to look for a gay sex partner exactly, but he doubted that it would be difficult.

It wasn’t.

The first search request resulted in about thirty different platforms for gay single men in Tokyo. If there were so many, why hadn’t ka-yu found one of them yet?

He considered himself bisexual since a camping trip in middle school, where he had finally realized that it wasn’t just confusion of puberty, but that the sex of his partner really didn’t make much a difference to him. Nonetheless, he had been with girls mostly so far, at least when it came to serious relationships. He had never dated a man for a longer time period and there never had been one in his life with whom he would have considered it. Well, maybe one.

Ka-yu clicked on the first website, which did not contain the word “dick” in its description. It looked pretty alright to him. Not better or worse than anything else, he figured. After all, he wasn’t really getting his hopes up with this anyway. He was just registering because he had lost to yasu.

He went to the “create profile” link and thought for a moment.

Obviously, he couldn’t get a profile as himself. He would have to create a fake personality. Why not have some fun?

BadBoy, he typed down for the user name and then hesitated for a moment. Maybe he should add his year of birth. 75? Or he could make himself a little older, just for the fun of it. Only a few years and he could be in his thirties. The thirties were sexy. Maybe add five, six years?

BadBoy69, he put down. Yes, looked good to him.

The website asked him if he wanted to put some sort of self-introduction or picture of himself on his personal blog. He declined both. Probably no one would message him that way and he could just tell yasu that his stupid idea hadn’t worked out.

He went online.

Within the first minute he got three messages, one of them had the picture of a dick attached. He deleted the one with the dick, then the second one that was written in bad Japanese, but nonetheless very vivid. The third one he granted with a short Hi, nice to meet you, but stopped answering as the next message asked for his weight. It was just rude.

He got up, went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea.

When he came back there were three more dicks, five friend-requests from people he had never talked to, another message that went straight to delete and two more to which he replied shortly.

He got an answer to his first reply immediately; wanting to know if he was a bad boy that loved sucking dick. Ka-yu deleted that one as well.

Sipping his tea, he wondered why there seemed to be nothing but perverts on this site. All of them had user names like DickLover24 or HotDaddyWantsToFuck. He didn’t even feel like checking the incoming messages anymore. Did none of them have anything better to do on a Sunday morning?

He opened another message. I want you to fuck me all night long, it said. Delete.

The next one on the list did not look more promising. The user name was SexyHole. Good lord. He almost hit delete without reading, but then he opened it anyway.

Let me guess … 69 is your lucky number?

Ka-yu stared at the message, then blinked very slowly. 69. Damn, he was an idiot.

My birthyear, actually, he typed back. I only realized that now. That explains the messages I’ve been receiving. Do you know where I change that?

The reply came almost immediately.

Why would you want to change that? It’s a lovely name.

It’s attracting perverts, ka-yu typed.

So, you don’t enjoy talking to me?, the stranger asked.

I’m talking about the other perverts, ka-yu clarified.

Another user name won’t stop the creeps coming, I get those messages, too.

Ka-yu checked the name of his chat partner again.

SexyHole? he asked.

What? Don’t tell me it sounds cheap … I was aiming for classy!

Ka-yu chuckled and his stomach did a weird little twist, although it was still too early for that. Dorks had always been his weakness.

Now, tell me, he wrote, what is a nice guy like you doing on a website like this?

He had to wait a little longer for the answer this time.

In the meantime, he checked two other messages, that he deleted instantly.

Finally, a new message popped up and he opened it a little too eagerly. Man, he really needed to calm down. He hardly knew this dude.

I’m trying to pick up a sexy bad boy ;D, it said.

But as he scrolled down there was another, longer answer.

Honestly, regular dating hasn’t worked out too well for me lately. I’m working in the entertainment sector (I’m a tv show actor, probably you’ve never seen me, but still) and it’s hard to meet someone. I would like to find someone for sex or preferably a relationship, but I can’t do that without building a trusting relationship first, so I know nothing of it will get leaked. That means no meetings, pictures or phone calls until I feel comfortable with someone. I hope that’s not a problem?

Ka-yu’s heartbeat suddenly picked up pace. There was someone who was in a similar situation as him. It also meant this guy wasn’t a creep, although his user name said something different.

No problem at all, ka-yu wrote back. I’m working as a producer for a more or less popular girl group. Usually, I’m not out in public myself, but I would like not to give out too many personal information until I’m sure, either.

He stared at the message for a moment, before sending it. That sounded like a stupid job, he had to admit. But the music industry was all he was familiar with and he did not want to put the focus on rock too much, just in case.

Good! You’re pretty young for a producer, aren’t you?

Ka-yu hesitated.

I guess I was lucky. Mind if I ask for your age since you already know mine? I could be hitting on a high-school kid for all I know.

Oh, so you are hitting on me? ;D

Ka-yu could almost hear the teasing tone behind the message, but he read on.

But don’t worry, I’m ‘75 birthyear.

With his fingers ka-yu drummed a light rhythm on the table plate. That guy was exactly his age. And he liked his way of talking.

You are just the perfect age for me then, he sent, biting his lower lip.

Was he going to fast? He did not want to sound like one of those creepy perverts out there, but it was also obvious what both of them were looking for. He ought to do a little flirting to signal interest, he guessed. Ka-yu had really no idea how this was supposed to work and it made him feel nervous and insecure.

Maybe I should watch out, though. Doesn’t a bad boy like you mean trouble?

Ka-yu grinned, although he tried not to. The game was definitely on now.

Just when he started typing, his mobile rang.

He picked up, knowing it was the controlling call he had expected.

“So, did you do it?”, yasu asked without introduction.

Ka-yu rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yasu, I got myself a stupid account. Happy?”

Yasu gave a thoughtful hum at the other end of the line.

“Found someone to chat with yet?”, he wanted to know.

Ka-yu stared at the message on his screen, still waiting for him to reply.

“No”, he lied.

It was easier to shut yasu up than to explain that he wasn’t sure yet, or why the hell he had decided to register on a gay site anyway.

“You know you have to write to people and not just wait around, right?”, yasu went on. “The girls might be shy.”

Ka-yu gave a little huff. It did not feel like the right timing to own up that he wasn’t looking for a girl at the moment. The right timing would have been 10 years ago, he guessed.

“How about you?”, he turned the conversation around.

Yasu gave a sharp, barking laugh.

“Only four people blocked me so far, so it’s going good, I guess.”

“The idea was stupid to begin with”, he reminded his friend.

“Come on, be optimistic. And call me when someone interesting shows up”, yasu ordered and then hung up without another word.

Ka-yu stared at his phone. Yasu was an idiot and he could be so rude sometimes. Nonetheless, the thought bothered him that he might be chatting with other people right now.

With a sigh he turned towards the computer again. There was only one way to get yasu out of his head once and for all.

I do mean trouble. I promise.

He wondered if he should have gotten more detailed already, but he wanted to take it slow.

I have one question – Do you have tattoos?

Ka-yu looked down on his own arms.

Yes, several, he replied.

Hot damn. And do you wear leather sometimes?

This time, ka-yu grinned.

All the time.

It wasn’t even a lie.

You sound exactly like my type, the stranger wrote.

Ka-yu took in a deep breath.

If we ever go on a date, I’d wear my blackest leather jacket for you and take you on a ride on my bike, he said.

There was a moment of silence and he wondered if he had mentioned the possibility of a date too soon. They had agreed it would take time, after all.

And what would you do with me afterwards?

The question was pretty clear, but it made him swallow hard nonetheless.

I’d take you to a hotel room, he wrote.

Would you fuck me?

The four words stared at him black on white, flickering a little with the lights of the screen. He hadn’t dared to say it first, but there it was, direct and unashamed. Ka-yu wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

On the one hand, it was exciting. But it was also happening so fast. He had never told anyone about the things he wanted to do with another man. Now the possibility was there, anonymously and without consequences.

I’d rip off your clothes and throw you on the bed. I’d fuck you with your ass up and your face down, so you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.

He hesitated.

It was just a stranger.

It didn’t matter.

He hit send.

Fuck, came the answer right away. You know exactly what I want to hear.

Ka-yu smirked. It was exciting to share his fantasies with someone he didn’t know at all. He hadn’t expected to be the kind of guy who would write so openly, but he understood the thrill of it now.

I wouldn’t waste my time with foreplay. I’d just take you until you go hoarse from crying out with pleasure.

He could almost see in it front of his eyes. Walking into a hotel room with a handsome stranger, kissing him, his grip on him firm and demanding. Shoving him onto a bed and then fucking him. Dirty and rough, without holding back. By now, he had a solid hard-on, cursing himself for being so easily aroused by someone he couldn’t even see, whom he knew nothing about.

Please, show me who’s the boss. You could do to me whatever you want. I’d let you go in deep and clench you tightly.

Ka-yu reread the message twice before he started to unbutton his pants. He shouldn’t do it, but he was very aroused already. He did not know when their conversation had taken this turn since they had started chatting only a few minutes ago.

But maybe yasu was right with what he always said. Maybe ka-yu was a little too uptight and a little too worried about just everything.

He closed his hand around his hard dick, the hot flesh pulsing between his fingers. Just when he started stroking himself, another messaged came in; like an afterthought.

God, I wish you would take me right now. I want to feel your dick inside as you fuck me.

He swore softly but went back to typing.

I want to fuck you right now, too, he admitted. Just touch yourself instead. I want you to do it right now.

He went back to stroking himself as the next message came in and he read it, while the heat down his stomach started to build up.

I am touching myself. I’m using my fingers on myself and my ass feels so hot and tight, but I want more. I need something bigger. I would really prefer your dick.

Ka-yu imagined what the inside of this man would feel like, hot around him. He wondered if he was really touching himself right now, in a different part of Tokyo.

The thought made him cum between into his own hand and he gasped loudly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten so excited by touching himself.

Still evening out his breath he grabbed for a tissue and started to clean himself. He felt dirty, not because he had masturbated, but because of the messages he had sent out to a complete stranger. No one else knew about those things he wanted and he had just told them openly to someone he had exchanged only a few words with.

Blankly, he stared at the screen. For a moment nothing there changed and he wondered what to write next. Finally, another messaged showed up.

I came, it read.

Ka-yu inhaled deeply.

He still didn’t know what to reply. After another few breaths a new message popped up.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean this kind of thing to happen so fast. Hopefully, you don’t think of me as a disgusting pervert now.

The words sounded honestly worried, so ka-yu typed back.

It’s okay. I did it, too. I usually don’t do this, though.

I usually TRY this a lot, but you are the first one who said all the right things. Please, don’t stop talking to me now.

Ka-yu ran his hand across the face, trying to clear out his thoughts.  The guy seemed to have a good sense of humour and he hadn’t been taken aback by ka-yu’s words. He wanted to go on talking to him, but he also felt weird about it. Somehow, he didn’t want yasu to be right.

I won’t stop talking to you, he promised. You seem fun.

If by fun you mean kinky, I’m probably the funniest guy you’ve ever met.

Ka-yu laughed. It was always dangerous when they made him laugh. Ka-yu fell for it too easily.

Tell me some more about yourself, please, he asked. I want to get to know you.

While waiting for a reply he deleted some creepy messages. Even the normal ones didn’t make him feel like replying. He had made his decision early on.

Well, I already told you, I’m an actor. I’m mostly staring in tv shows and commercials. A lot of commercials. Sometimes it feels like I’m earning my living just by making a fool of myself. Also, I’m bisexual and currently kind of hungry…

Surprised ka-yu noticed that he was also kind of hungry. Their little chat had lasted longer then he realized and it was definitely lunch time already.

We have a lot in common, he pointed out. I’m also bi and hungry.

Maybe we should eat?

We should, he agreed.

He liked the way their conversation had taken a very casual turn. It seemed easy to chat with this guy.

Ka-yu went into the kitchen and prepared lunch for himself. He wasn’t a very good cook, but he made sure he ate healthy, more or less.

When he returned with his plate, he already had a message waiting for him, that read Enjoy your meal.

Ka-yu smiled absent-mindedly. So nice, he thought.

Do you feel better now?, he asked, after having finished his own meal.

Yeah. Nothing makes me feel as good as food, the reply said.

He had to smirk himself as he typed the answer.

You haven’t felt my dick yet.

The answer took a moment. He wondered if the other one was laughing.

You’re smooth, Mr. BadBoy. Anything else I need to know?

Nah. Ka-yu hesitated. When it wasn’t about his job as a musician, he didn’t feel like there was anything interesting about him to say. I’m just a pretty normal dude.

Maybe we shouldn’t talk about personal stuff just now. Tell me about the things you like. Favourite movie, favourite band, most hated celebrity (man, I hope that’s not me :P)

Ka-yu smiled as he read the message. After all, those were some things he didn’t have to lie about.

***

Recordings were exhausting and ka-yu was thankful when he finally got a break. It was just the demo tapes so far, but he hadn’t slept much during the last night.

It had turned out that he and his ominous new friend had a lot of things in common when it came to their personal taste and he had stayed up long discussing an English book that had been published only last month. He had enjoyed it a lot and sometimes missed a friend to talk to about such things. With yasu it was always just jokes and games. He made a big point out of not reading.

Afterwards he hadn’t been able to fall asleep immediately. He kept thinking about the guy, of whom he didn’t even know his real name, or what he looked like. He had always been affected a little too easily, but this time it was pretty bad. He had never developed a crush so fast, and usually his crushes developed with the speed of lighting already.

“Joa, ka-yu, how’s it going?”, yasu shouted way too cheerfully and slammed down on the chair next to him.

Ka-yu put his head in his hands with a groan.

“Please, yasu, give me a break.”

“No way.”

Yasu boxed him lightly against the shoulder to make him look up.

“You need to tell me how our little project is going.”

“It’s your project”, ka-yu sighed.

“Did you even try?”

Yasu looked at him sternly.

“If you want to get laid, you need to try. Did you chat with some girls?”

Ka-yu winced. He did not know why he kept lying, except that he felt embarrassed for having missed the right timing. Yasu had only ever seen him date girls and he had let it slide for too long to tell him about his bisexuality. It would only feel awkward now.

“I did chat with a few”, he lied.

“Did it get, ah, aaah, aah! Sexual?”, yasu moaned.

Ka-yu rolled his eyes and tried not to pay attention to how sexy yasu sounded even if he only faked his moans.

“Of course not, idiot”, he huffed. “Who would get sexual so soon?”

He thought of some of the messages he had typed down yesterday and hoped he wouldn’t blush.

“I get sexual all the time!”, yasu exclaimed and laughed.

Sometimes, ka-yu just didn’t know what to do with his best friend. He was shameless.

“You are such a creep”, he scolded him. “No wonder people block you. I would probably block you, too.”

Yasu’s laughter went quieter now, but his grin was very wide. Ka-yu loved that laugh of his. It made him look beautiful. Although, of course, he didn’t care about that.

“Not everyone can be as boring as you, Mr. Missionary”, yasu teased him. “You look so tough, but you’re not adventurous at all. You really need to loosen up a bit. The internet is perfect. No one knows it’s you. Treat yourself to a little fun.”

Ka-yu shook his head at him.

“I’m not boring”, he insisted. “You’re just … Just what is wrong with you, yasu?”

He wanted to sound angry, but he couldn’t help grinning at the end of the sentence.

The whole thing was so typical.

“Baby, please”, yasu said and got up from his chair.

Before walking away, he leaned down and placed a short kiss on ka-yu’s cheek.

Ka-yu hated it when he got intimate so suddenly as part of a joke. It caused a shiver to run down his spine and his whole body seemed very present, especially where yasu’s lips had touched him.

Close to his ear he whispered with disguised voice that turned very low:

“You know you love me.”

Ka-yu wasn’t so sure about that sometimes.

***

When ka-yu came home, he went straight to his computer and switched it on. He had looked forward to this pretty much all day, although he knew it was stupid. He shouldn’t be so excited to get back to talking to a stranger.

When he found no message waiting for him, he felt weirdly disappointed.

Had he misjudged their conversation yesterday? In his opinion they had really hit it off, but maybe he hadn’t left the same impression on the other. Or maybe he was just busy today or too shy to message him. Ka-yu reconsidered. No, he probably wasn’t too shy. If he should be the one to message him? Would that seem too eager? Or was he waiting for ka-yu to do it?

He didn’t know, so he decided to take a relaxing bath first.

That was even more stupid than just rushing home to get to the computer. Now he would have to wait even longer. To prove to himself that it was just a minor crush and nothing serious, he stayed in the bath longer than necessary.

When he came back, the screen signalled for him that he had a message waiting.

His chest went uncomfortable tight and he told himself to calm down. He hated this feeling. He hated acting like an idiot.

Hey, how was your day?, the message asked.

Long, ka-yu replied. I came home from work not long ago.

You should make sure to relax.

I already took a bath just now.

Ka-yu stared at the words, not sure if they might imply something sexual.

And how are you?, he added.

Tired. I had a shooting today and am extremely exhausted now.

You should go to sleep soon, then, ka-yu said. Sorry, for making you stay up so late yesterday.

No, no. I enjoy talking to you. Please, let’s chat some more today.

Aren’t you too tired?, ka-yu made sure.

Nothing exciting, please :P, the other one wrote back. Just talk to me, so I don’t feel so lonely. I was looking forward to that all day.

Ka-yu felt a soft sting in his chest. The words sounded small and vulnerable, but he liked that sort of honesty.

I was also looking forward to talking to you again, he admitted. What kind of shooting did you have today? Commercials?

No, I’m doing a minor role in a tv show currently. I’ll have shootings all week.

What made you want to become an actor?, ka-yu asked.

I don’t really know. It just happened. Sometimes I wonder what I’m even doing here.

Ka-yu himself didn’t know that feeling at all. Music was all he had ever wanted to do. It was so much fun, in spite of all the hard work.

Have you ever thought of doing something else instead?

Lately, I thought that I would like to try writing. I have this story in my head, about a woman. Or… rather a girl. But I don’t know. I don’t think anyone would like to read it. People want to see me act, that’s what I’m good at.

Ka-yu stared at the message for a while. He could read the hesitation between the lines, the insecurity.

If you want to try, you should try, he finally wrote. You don’t have to be good at it. Just do it for yourself and I’m sure you will find people who will want to read it. I’m here if you need a test reader.

Again, it was already getting late. Tomorrow, there would be recordings again. They were still trying things out, trying to find the right arrangement to the melodies. He knew that yasu had already started working on some lyrics, but mostly it was only humming at the moment. It was a difficult process, though, and he needed his full concentration.

Thank you, the reply came. I haven’t told anyone about this yet. Maybe I will give it a shot. But now I should probably sign off. I also want to take a bath and go to sleep early. But we will talk tomorrow, right?

Sure, ka-yu agreed. Sleep well and have a nice day tomorrow.

Sweet dreams and good night.

Ka-yu was smiling like an idiot as he switched off the computer.

***

The day had been long again, but this time he did not hesitate logging in to his account immediately.

Hi, how are you today?, he wrote before even going to the kitchen to make himself some food.

When he came back the reply was already waiting for him.

Good, but still tired. Or again, I’m not sure. But it’s better than yesterday.

Ka-yu nodded, although the other one could not see him. He felt pretty much the same.

Same here, he agreed. Are you making progress with the shooting?

Yes, we are, but there is still a lot of work ahead. But let’s not talk about that. I want to hear more about you. How long have you been single? If you don’t mind the question.

Ka-yu exhaled gravely. He hated that question almost as much as he hated the answer.

I haven’t really been seeing anyone in more than a year already, he owned up. Work is always keeping me busy.

For me the last serious relationship is also years ago. I’m tired of this shit. I just want to come home to someone.

Absent-mindedly ka-yu nodded to himself. He knew that feeling all too well.

Can I ask you something? Are you openly bisexual? I mean, is it a problem at your work or something?

Yes, I’m pretty open about it. Although not everyone approves, of course. I came out pretty early to everyone important to me, so it wasn’t a big deal.

First boyfriend?, ka-yu asked.

He was curious about this, about the experience other people had made.

Not sure if you could call it a boyfriend. I had just turned 18, had my first bigger role as an actor. He was a producer at the studio and at least 20 years older than me, but still very good looking. He took me to fancy restaurants a few times and a fancy hotel once. I was pretty easy to impress back then...

Are you telling me you lost your virginity to a hot sugar daddy?, ka-yu assured, not sure how he felt about it.

He had to admit that the idea was kind of hot, but it also made him feel insufficient and inexperienced.

How about you? Who was your first?

Man?, ka-yu assured, but really just playing on time.

His first time with a man had been well into his 20s and pretty unspectacular. They had met at a bar in Tokyo, went out for coffee the other day and never called each other afterwards. It wasn’t a story you used to impress. After the one he had just heard, it felt even more shabby.

Yeah.

Ka-yu hesitated. He wondered how he would have liked his first time to happen. He wondered what kind of story he would have liked it to be. The only thing he could think of was a very dorky grin with slightly crooked teeth.

I had this band with a few friends back at school, he typed, not sure where he was heading with it, just knowing what he would have liked it to be. In our last year of high-school we were playing a small gig at a local club. Everyone was there, our friends and family, celebrating afterwards. Just me and my best friend – he was our vocalist – snug out early. We went back to my place; my family was still out at the club. Everyone was wondering where we were, I guess. We didn’t care that night.

He remembered yasu’s heated cheeks that night and how his hair had stuck to his sweaty neck. A lot of things might have went different, if he had gathered up the courage to kiss him that night. The story might actually have become true.

That sounds nice, the other one replied. I was playing in a band in high-school, too, but I gave that up.

For a moment, ka-yu’s heart seemed to skip a beat, although he couldn’t quite say why.

What did you play?

Drums.

Deeply he exhaled. He didn’t know why he had been worried. But it was drums. Drums were good. Drums were not vocals.

Your arms must have looked very nice back then, he teased.

They still do ;D I try to work out whenever I find the time.

Ka-yu swallowed hard.

I think I’d rather go to sleep now. If you keep talking, I’ll get too excited to fall asleep otherwise.

He kind of hoped the other one would keep talking, though, and get him too excited to sleep ever again, but he didn’t.

Good night, his last message said.

Ka-yu thought that this was nice, too.

***

Today, recordings had been finished a bit earlier, so ka-yu was surprised he already had a message waiting for him when he got home.

Hello there. Work today was super boring, I would have preferred to chat with you instead. During lunch break I installed this program here on my mobile as well. If you do it, too, we can also talk during the day. If you want to, I mean.

Ka-yu hadn’t been aware there was a mobile version as well, but it took him only a few minutes to figure out how to install it.

Of course, I want to, he replied. I already did it just now.

Nothing happened for a while. The other one wasn’t online it seemed. With a groan ka-yu realized he would have to distract himself otherwise.

First, he thought of calling yasu, but then they had only seen each other at the studio an hour ago and he didn’t really know what they should talk about anyway.

So, instead he switched on the tv, skipping through the programs lazily. Every young man on the screen made him wonder if maybe that was the person he was chatting with. Maybe it was that handsome guy with the brown hair? Or that one in the background with the green jacket? The one drinking iced tea in that commercial?

He thought he would be able to keep his curiosity in check. Not knowing whom you were talking to was part of the excitement after all. But by now he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. He liked that guy, whomever he was. He would have liked to know a little more. He would also have liked to make sure he was hot, but that was something he didn’t like to admit. It was a pretty superficial thought. If they got along so well, the looks shouldn’t matter that much, right?

Starting to get bored, he switched the tv off again and supressed a yawn. Maybe he should take a nap. Tomorrow there was an important meeting at work and he didn’t really have a reason to stay up.

He took his mobile with him as he went to bed, taking off his jeans and laying down. If he just closed his eyes, the sleepiness would take over eventually.

It didn’t.

He was sleepy and exhausted, but his thoughts kept spinning.

Suddenly, his mobile buzzed with a strange sound.

He looked at the screen to realize he had gotten a message in the chat of that gay dating website.

He opened it, afraid that it might turn out to be another pervert, but it was the answer he had been waiting for.

I’m sorry, I was tired and trying to take a nap, but it just won’t work.

Surprised, ka-yu smirked.

I also went to bed to do the same, but I also can’t fall asleep.

Looks like you have to talk to me then.

Are you still in bed?, ka-yu typed.

Yes, although the bed is kinda too big for me alone.

Ka-yu licked his lips. Obviously the other one had understood what he was getting at.

Are you dressed?

Nah, I stripped down to my underwear before laying down.

Now, he swallowed, feeling his own body heat up significantly. He wasn’t used to chatting with someone like that, but it got him excited fast.

Describe yourself to me. I want to imagine what you look like right now.

I’m not especially tall, but I have a nice build, I think. I’m working out sometimes, but I’m not exactly muscular – more on the skinny side. I wear my hair long, because it makes me feel like a rebel. I have really nice lips; for kissing and also for sucking dick. And right now, I took off my panties, too, so I’m completely naked.

Ka-yu inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. But the words made him feel strongly aroused. He imagined a handsome guy with long hair, now lying in his bed naked somewhere in Tokyo, talking to ka-yu.

You sound so sexy. I’m already hard, he confessed.

Show me.

Insecurely ka-yu stared at the last message. Wasn’t it too soon for that? He didn’t want to be one of those guys. At the same time the thought alone pumped even more blood down to his lower body.

You sure?, he asked.

Yes.

That was a pretty clear answer, ka-yu had to admit.

Hesitantly, he pushed back the blankets and pulled down his pants. His dick was towering into the air already and he went for his phone camera. Taking a loose hold of his erection, he took a picture, feeling a little weird about it.

He wasn’t really vain and not used to taking pics of his own penis but sending it to someone who didn’t even know his face was pretty exciting.

He checked the picture to see if there was anything that might give him away. But except for black nail polish coming off on his thumb there was nothing that told anything about ka-yu.

He hit send and waited for what felt like the longest minute in his life.

Oh god, your dick is so hot, I just want to do naughty things with it…

What do you want to do?, ka-yu asked, starting to stroke himself as he waited for the reply.

Probably the other one was doing the same now, fantasizing about ka-yu’s penis inside of him. The thought was such a turn-on, he moaned quietly.

I want to climb on top of you and sit down on that pretty dick. I want to ride you hard right now.

Ka-yu’s dick twitched slightly in his hand as he read the message. He let go to reply shortly.

Do you like riding dick?, he wanted to know.

Yes, I’m a slut for riding dick (and I mean that quite literally). I want to slide up and down on you, until you cum so hard, you won’t even remember your own name.

Softly, ka-yu swore under his breath, clenching his dick tightly, stroking fiercely now. He got aroused by how much that guy wanted to fuck him, how much he wanted to thrust into him himself. He liked the way he talked dirty and liked to imagine doing those things to him.

With a small outcry, he came, inhaling a few deep breaths, before picking up his phone again.

I want you to take me in all the way and get loud while we do it, he wrote.

He wanted the other one to have something nice to read, even if ka-yu was already finished.

There was a silence for a while and ka-yu’s breath came even now. His body felt warm and content and he was at the edge of falling asleep now for real. He forced himself to stay awake, though, until his mobile buzzed again.

Thank you. Are you finished as well?

Yeah, ka-yu replied. Now I’m sleepy.

So, we’re taking that nap together now?

Ka-yu yawned once again.

Let’s do it!, he agreed.

And so, they did.

***

The meeting was horribly boring. They were sitting in an office room and their producer was delivering a speech about the concept for their new album. It was mostly about finances and sales figures and questions of promotion ka-yu didn’t care about. Not even one song was completely finished yet; he didn’t understand the fuss. There would be a hundred similar meetings before the official release date.

Across the table yasu made a face at him and he rolled his eyes in agreement.

Everyone in the room was either playing with their mobile or scratching little drawings into the table plate in front of them.

Ka-yu got out his own mobile, only to see he had received a new message.

I’m so bored. What are you doing?

I’m at a meeting, ka-yu typed under the table, trying to look like he was still listening.

I’m at the set, but I’m not shooting at the moment. So, I’m just thinking about you.

What are you thinking about?, ka-yu inquired.

That picture you sent me yesterday. I’m imagining what your dick would feel like in my mouth and how you gag me with it. I want to lick it and push it down my throat. I want to taste your cum.

Ka-yu hoped that his cheeks wouldn’t colour as he read the message. He tried to keep a neutral expression, but it was difficult, because he already got aroused again.

The message following right away didn’t make it any better.

Actually, I have a huge boner right now. I just hope no one will notice.

Then go to the men’s room and jack off.

I can’t just leave, came the answer right away. Plus, someone might come in. I can’t just do it in the office’s toilet.

Of course, you can, ka-yu insisted. Now, be a good boy and listen to daddy.

Their producer was still talking, but ka-yu was paying even less attention now. He wondered if he would do it, or if he had demanded too much. The thought excited him that he could just order someone around like that. That someone might sneak off work to touch themselves, just because ka-yu wanted them to.

Okay.

That single word made his breath catch for a second. Okay. He would do it.

And don’t bother to keep your voice down. I want you to know that someone might hear and know what a slut you are; not even able to keep your hands off yourself during work.

Deeply ka-yu exhaled before hitting send. He had never thought of himself as kinky, but he had to admit that this was fun.

He looked at their producer again, who now paused to sort out the papers in front of him.

“Any questions so far, guys?”, he asked.

Yasu gave a quick hand sign to draw his attention.

“Could we maybe take a short break? 15 minutes or so? I really need a smoke.”

Their producer looked a little surprised, but ka-yu nodded in agreement.

“Yes, a smoke would be great”, he said.

After this chat he really needed to catch some fresh air.

“Alright, then let’s meet here again in 15 minutes”, their producer gave in and everyone grabbed their jackets to go out for a bit.

Ka-yu already felt a lot calmer as he stepped into the cool air outside. His head seemed to clear up and all the other parts of his body also felt less heated immediately.

He lit himself a cigarette and looked around.

“Hey, have you seen yasu?”, he asked one of the staff members next to him.

The whole crew had taken the opportunity for a break. A lot of people were involved with sales figures, but no one seemed to find them very interesting.

“No, sorry”, the young woman said and ka-yu shrugged it off.

Maybe he had went to smoke somewhere else, or he had went to get himself something to eat instead.

He checked his mobile, but there was no new message. He was weirdly disappointed by that but hoped that it meant his order was being carried out at the moment.

After about ten minutes, people started to walk back inside.

Ka-yu lit himself another cigarette, just to have an excuse to stay out longer.

Once again, he checked his phone, but no one had messaged him in the meantime.

“Ka-yu, you coming? The meeting is starting again in a moment.”

He gave a short wave with his hand to signal he was aware of it. Then he looked at his mobile again, although he knew he was acting unreasonable.

Everyone else had went back inside by now and he was the only one still standing here. The 15 minutes weren’t quite over yet, but everyone seemed eager to get back to work.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open and yasu dashed out, a little out of breath and his cheeks a very healthy colour.

“Fuck, I almost didn’t find the time”, he swore and got out a pack of cigarettes, struggling with his lighter.

“Let me do that”, ka-yu offered and pulled out his own to light yasu’s cigarette.

They were standing very close and he could see yasu’s lips tremble slightly as he sucked on the cigarette while ka-yu gave him fire.

“Thanks”, he said, smoke blowing out between his lips as he spoke.

Ka-yu knew they should probably quit smoking, especially yasu who had to watch out for his voice. But he also had to admit that his friend looked really sexy with a cigarette.

“Where have you been? You were the one who wanted to smoke”, he asked.

Yasu gave a small shrug, but his grin gave him away.

“I had to answer a very important phone call”, he said.

Ka-yu raised his eyebrows at him, yasu’s smile making him feel a light pang of jealousy.

“Someone special?”, he assured.

Yasu gave a short nod, while inhaling another lung full of smoke.

“Don’t tell me it’s someone you met on the internet?”, ka-yu teased lightly, but felt angry about it for no specific reason.

Yasu was already making phone calls then.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but yeah”, he admitted.

“You ought to watch out”, ka-yu reminded him sternly. “Someone might recognize your voice.”

“I know”, yasu waved it off. “Don’t worry, I’m careful. No meetings or pictures so far.”

Ka-yu hesitated a moment. The possible answer to the next question already made his chest feel tight.

“Someone you like?”

Yasu shrugged once more.

“Someone I’d like to get laid with, at least”, he joked and made ka-yu roll his eyes.

He should not have expected anything else from his friend. Of course, yasu wasn’t the one who would have deep, meaningful talks and develop a good relationship first like ka-yu was doing.

“Just take care”, he said and saw yasu’s grin soften a bit.

“I wondered if you are free on the weekend?”, he changed the topic. “There is this event for young bands that are not popular yet. I thought it would be good to keep an eye on the scene. Wanna go? It’s on Sunday.”

“Ehm.”

Ka-yu thought about it. Usually, he would have said yes, since he didn’t have better plans anyway. But now, he thought, that he would much rather stay in and chat with his new crush. He felt a bit bad for letting yasu down, but they were already spending so much time together, it hardly made a difference.

“Sorry, I’ll be busy”, he said.

[filmista]

Gone Girl (2014)

“When two people love each other and they can't make that work, that's the real tragedy.”

The first time I watched ‘Gone Girl’ was before I had read Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name. The film gripped me so much the first time, that one of the first things I did after was read, or better said devoured Flynn’s novel in about a day.

Flynn’s novel is not only an interesting look at a female psychopath (people have compared Amy Dunne to Patrick Bateman; though I think Bateman is more perverse) as scary as it sounds at least with Amy Dunne, we see things in her character that don’t justify or excuse what she does but that can make you understand her.

There is, however, a scary similarity between the two: both are seen as “perfect Americans" in a way, women find Patrick Bate hot and men admire him at his job because he’s the man that’s got everything at first sight and nothing seems to ever affect him; it shows that scary notion that being emotionless is the male ideal.

And Amy’s literally a children’s idol, she signs autographs for children and becomes an American heroine, “America’s sweetheart” she’s hailed on the news even after she has committed cold-blooded murder and vicious, sickening acts. 

So what does that mean? Is too much perfection craziness? Or does striving for perfection drive us crazy? Or is it the pretense the trying to project a perfect image towards the world?

Both are characters that seemingly are perfect and they seem to at first glance have all the ingredients for happiness, but once you look underneath, well the only thing that really prevails is a killer boredom and an emptiness, both feel like they aren’t present, like they’re not there, or in Amy’s words: “I feel like I could disappear”.

The first time I read Flynn’s novel I was enthralled, Amy Dunne is one of the most interesting and complex female characters I’ve ever seen in anything, but I was also very pleased that Fincher had done Flynn’s work so much justice.

He actually worked with Flynn and allowed her to contribute to making her own book into a screenplay, and as a result of the essence of the book really transfers onto the screen.

However, Fincher’s adaptation of the book is interesting because of many reasons, not just because it is one of the best literary adaptations I’ve seen but also because it’s well made. It’s beautiful on a simple aesthetic level but it’s deep too, it’s the kind of film that’s gonna make you think after and that you can bet will stay with you for a few days after.

And most importantly it’s got respect for the audience there’s no hand-holding, it’s assumed you’re smart enough to follow what’s happening, and so no unnecessary flashbacks to remind you of what happened earlier, you’re supposed to still remember. 

This does make ‘Gone Girl’ into a film that you have to pay attention to, it’s not the kind of film you can continue to watch while you’re doing say your dishes.

Before delving into further detail though, I’ll leave the storyline here:

On the occasion of his fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne reports that his wife, Amy, has gone missing. Under pressure from the police and a growing media frenzy, Nick's portrait of a blissful union begins to crumble. Soon his lies, deceits and strange behavior have everyone asking the same dark question: Did Nick Dunne kill his wife?

The most interesting thing about the film though, is the titular Gone Girl, Amy Dunne. Amy Dunne is an incredibly complex and compelling female character, she’s unique, because she gets to do what a lot of women in films often can’t do without being held accountable or locked up in an institution: she gets to go utterly insane and she triumphs in the end, she’s a villainess of the first degree.

She’s impossible to run away from and to outsmart, she’s at the top and there she stays, she’s not superhuman either, because she has weaknesses and she can be vulnerable, as a few moments in the film illustrate, but when she’s not vulnerable, she can't be stopped by no man or woman.

There’s no doubt that Amy Dunne, is a monster, but she’s ultimately more interesting than Patrick Bateman and I said I think less perverse, yes she has a method to her insanity and it’s safe to assume she’s conscious and aware of her action and knows exactly what she is doing.

But unlike Bateman, external events shaped Amy; she was made into a monster by the world around her and those that were supposed to care about her, it doesn’t justify that she killed a man and that she staged her own disappearance.

But it can make you understand it to some degree, and to some degree, you sympathize with her at certain points, because underneath the layer of insanity, there’s still human emotion and vulnerability left, maybe she would never have snapped had she not been pushed.

I’ve now watched ‘Gone Girl’s more than once with different people, and I always notice something very interesting: people usually divide both the main characters Nick Dunne and Amy Dunne in two categories: he’s a good guy (that’s done nothing wrong) and Amy’s a psycho bitch.

When I watched the film though, I obviously did recognise that Amy is not normal and that she clearly has mental problems, but to a certain degree I could understand (not justify) why she did what she did, I can see the reasoning behind her actions, why she decided to do what she did.

Amy Dunne’s a brilliant woman, with an obvious eager mind, as illustrated by the various degrees of hers on the walls of her bedroom, but she became a housewife, not that, that is what drove her insane, because a woman like her would have something to do, had it been studying or whatever.

But she was not used to being ignored, she’s never been used to feeling like she doesn’t matter. Amy was the only child of her parents, she had always been made felt like she was unique and a miracle, something worthy of admiration, something that had to excel and preferably honor them.

Amy’s parents turned her childhood and adult life into a series of books, the heroine of which is Amazing Amy, Amy is essentially a literal Amy, but this Amy never disappoints and is always perfect. And more importantly, she is adored by millions of kids in America.

You wouldn’t think that this would be the kind of thing that would mess someone up, but I think that in the case of Amy it does, I think her parents created a split personality in her; in many ways Amy is trying to adapt the Amy amazing persona, she tries to be Amazing Amy, as she says at one point: “Amazing Amy has always been one step ahead of me”. And she feels that it’s her duty to walk into Amazing Amy’s shoes.

Because what she wants really is nothing more than to be loved, or receive what she thinks to constitute as love, her parents seem to adore her but they come across as very fake and cold people.

How much do they care about their daughter? (perhaps this makes fun of those people in America that force their kids to participate in atrocious television such as ‘Honey Booboo’, I honestly think that should be considered child abuse).

Perhaps they care more for the literate version than they do their own daughter, which would be a messed up thing, but then again what parents turn their own daughter into a product?

At one point Amy’s father at an event for one of her books (in which Amazing Amy gets married while real-life Amy has not yet taken that step, her mom even wants her to wear a wedding dress, just how crazy is that woman?!) forces her to go socialise and mingle, what if Amy doesn’t want to? What if she doesn’t want the spotlight?

That doesn’t matter to her parents; all they seem to care about is Amy the product, and perhaps she strives so much to become Amazing Amy because all she really wants is love from her parents like any child should receive.

And then she meets the perfect man, her dream guy. Finally, a man that seems to admire and care about her seemingly just for the person she is. Though there’s a catch, perhaps Amy’s childhood messed her up so much, that her entire definition of love became messed up.

She literally says “ I forged the man of my dreams.” She saw a guy that she probably sensed was manipulable and could be rebuilt into the kind of man she likes; and isn’t love about not changing the person you love, unless it’s in their self-interest.

Like helping them get rid of an unhealthy habit such as smoking? But Amy sees this man, and she probably is physically attracted to him and she did recognize good personality traits.

But she felt that she could make him into a better man, a man that would make her look good, a man that would fit amazing Amy. And so she presents a persona to lure him in (I believe we all do this a little though sometimes) I feel like I should include the famous Cool girl speech here:

Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. "Cool girl". Men always use that, don't they? As their defining compliment: "She's a cool girl". Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently, he's a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she's a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted "Cool girl". And for him, I'll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can't say I didn't enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn't know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. 

And it works, he’s dazzled and falls for Amy. And while that might seem despicable to some degree, I don’t argue that isn’t. it’s always said that we should be ourselves.

But Amy has got a certain point: society’s not always content with women just being themselves, society wants amplified women, women who her always at their best.

And she knows this better than anyone and refuses to let being a woman bring her down, or believe that it gives her any less right to anything. I mean how can you as a woman (I admit that I did to some degree) or even as a man if you believe men and women are equal, not cheer her on for that belief?

She knows, better than anyone that society’s unfair and it pisses her off, she’s very very angry, and it  seems to become her mission to not only get her personal revenge but in a way for every woman: 

“And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they'll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women.”

She knows how to use every advantage that being a woman could offer you: she can go from being a man ’s literal fantasy of what constitutes his perfect woman to his worst nightmare in the flinch of an eye.

She uses her sexuality to her advantage and when she benefits from adopting the tired and cliched female victim role to appear sympathetic and inspire pity she does that without blinking an eye.

Still, it begs the question, why did she stage her own disappearance and wanted to frame her husband for murder? Just to get back at him? It took her a lot of creativity, a crazy kind of creativity but still, she made her diary into a testament of an abusive relationship and she even provided the weapon she was supposedly assaulted with, I mean you need a lot of dedication…

As I said earlier Amy craves attention and love, and in her own fucked up way she thinks she’s now found that with Nick, and that she’s now finally on par with Amazing Amy, she has the perfect husband, the perfect life, she’s become the Amazing Amy fantasy.

The first few years of her marriage are wonderful, although it’s difficult to establish if Amy ever was in love (or if she was telling herself she was) but as I said she’s someone that craves loves and attention, or at least a simulation of love, and she absolutely can’t have it when her husband starts to ignore her and only pay attention to her when he sees fit.

Amy is someone you don’t put into a corner and that you simply don’t ignore. Now you could say there is such a thing as talking to someone and explaining how you feel, but all the times we see Amy trying to do that in the film, we see Nick brush her off, and you can feel her anger building, you understand why she is pissed off.

Not that it justifies taking revenge, but in a way you can understand Amy. Nick often is seen as the “good guy, who did nothing wrong” and well he’s not a murderer and he didn’t beat Amy, but the profiteers off of her.

She bought him the bar he works in, and all the expenses are on her own, if something has to be done he leaves it to the wife. He’s maybe not even attracted to her anymore at this point, Amy’s a security that he takes for granted, he also makes decisions without her: moving somewhere entirely new, without okaying it with her, you don’t do that… and if that’s not enough he has an affair too.

And that drives Amy mad; she forged the man of her dreams, but he slips back into a man she didn’t agree to be within her own words, but what bothers her most of all is maybe not what she sees as weak personality traits, it’s the being ignored, the being taken for granted, and being used as a commodity. She senses that it’s not ok, and it really isn’t, she feels that he sucks everything out of her, she’s not a person of her own anymore, there’s no dignity left.

And yet Amy has dignity because she sees this and doesn’t think it’s okay, she compares it to being murdered; and in a way that it is a fitting description, Nick killed her spirit, she feels wronged, scorn.

Only she has a more extreme reaction to it; she’s not going to let him just ignore her, she’s going to remind him who he’s dealing with, put him back in what he believes his place, but she even goes further than just a sharp reprimand, she’s going to make him fear her, make sure he’s forced to pay attention to her and forced to play happy family.

And while what she did after, essentially make it look like she was kidnapped, frame and murder a dude is definitely not okay, it’s messed up, it’s evil, Amy’s evil. But you can’t help but feel a little sorry for her.

She’s definitely mad, but how much of her madness is her fault? How much did what was demanded of her mess her up? Amy’s ruthless; but she comes across as vulnerable at times, almost as if she believes that doing what she’s doing will really make everything alright again, that she can get the man she loved back, it’s her own completely fucked up version of a romantic gesture.

And Amy and Nick are a very fucked up couple, now at first in the film, they come across as the perfect couple, but then you see the flaws and cracks in the design and there’s many.

And still when Amy disappears the way he screams “Amy!” implies the notion to some degree that they may be right for each other, that he cares about his wife somewhere, but he got lazy and didn’t show it often enough.

Which is again a reminder that romance is not always easy to work, you can’t be in a relationship and then think it’s gonna upkeep itself, and not nearly everyone has the strength of character for it. Which in a way maybe makes it a cautionary tale for the modern romance: don’t ignore your partner, because they may just go Amy Dunne on you.

All of what I’ve written doesn’t mean that I agree with Amy’s actions I don’t, not at all. But I think she’s far more complex than just psycho bitch.

she’s actually a very tragically complex character, she’s someone that was never shown how to be happy, never told that she has the right to be happy, and so she does everything to fabricate it in her own desperate way.

Say what you will about Amy as a female character; that she’s crazy, that she’s the devil in female form; dressing up as suburban housewife, but she is absolutely not boring, she’s a scary woman, and scary women exist, it’s just that we don’t often see them in television.

‘Gone Girl’s had to deal with plenty of misogyny claims, that it’s just another women are crazy film, but Fincher does care about Amy as a character, we do see moments that create empathy and sympathy towards her, you see and understand her pain.

She’s not just a spoiled, rich girl that goes on a feminist crusade, she’s not a good woman, not a role model and that’s fine because not all women are good. ‘Gone Girl’ deals with a lot of topics though.

It’s amongst many things a satire on the media, on media circuses and the mob mentality of it sometimes. People feel like they have the right to shred someone to pieces, without proof at times, hell as long as it makes them feel good and provides entertainment.

How it demonizes and destroys people sometimes without proof, there’s no proof that Nick killed his wife yet the whole of America hates him and they’re already tearing him apart. Or the way that Amy who killed someone and framed and ruthlessly plotted the demise of multiple people is heralded as “American heroine” because no one knows, she’s just made everyone fall into his web.

And how one moment the media tears you apart and the next moment it adores. It reminds me of what Ingrid Bergman once said:

"I've gone from saint to whore and back to saint again, all in one lifetime." 

Nick in the film, is at first hated, because it’s instantly supposed that he is a wife killer, just because of the way he uncomfortably smiles (my wife says he’s a killer).

How many times have people said, when they see a photo of a killer I knew it, he/she looks evil! At another point in the film, Nick basically admits publicly to being a shit husband and everyone loves him because admitted he’s an asshole, it shows that people can make or break someone’s reputation on a whim, without it necessarily being true.

These ideas are all present in the book too, but Fincher really adapted them well to the screen. ‘Gone Girl’ is truly a very cinematic film, seemingly very simple and low on special effects, but he really does do some interesting, visually impressive stuff.

The sequences that depict instances Amy describes in her diary, the films in a brilliant att way, these also have impressive use of voiceover, Rosamund Pike narrates in a way that’s chockfull of emotion, and that’s why it works so well.

Fincher’s shows us what she’s describing, and in a way, these scenes have a different feel than the rest of the film, they seem entirely rooted in reality, but at the same time there’s a sort of nightmarish haze them, something’s inherently disturbing in these scenes.

There are moments in her diary when Amy describes violence, her husband pushing her when Fincher shows it to us, it becomes a truly shocking moment, not that a woman being pushed on the ground isn’t shocking.

But here it truly feels realistically violent, he makes the violence of the scene stand out more by using a slow black fade, he makes sure that you’ve really seen it and that it’s burned on your retina for a while.

And the moments that depict the whole media circus are incredibly well done too, there’ s a scene in which an entire horde of journalists, is literally running behind Affleck’s character until he gets to his car, it’s a scene that still kind of stresses me out every time I see it, you really feel how stressful that is for someone.

Fincher does a fantastic job at placing the way a character feels into his film visually, when Amy first meets Nick, they kiss in outside a bakery that’s having its sugar delivered, and there’s a storm of it, and this scene really has something magical about it.

You buy the love story and the passion, shortly after this scene; Fincher cuts to Nick going down on Amy, apparently also controversial, people are still shocked about seeing a woman receive oral sex in a film, a little change is nice us for us ladies too sometimes, the opposite has been shown millions of time.

But Fincher does a fantastic job with this scene, not only is it’s lightning amazing, it’s dark, yet urban light streams into the room creating a very lovely effect. But he really shows the pleasure in the act of both characters, Amy lifts herself up and gaspingly says: Nick Dunne, I really like you. And you absolutely buy it.

The fairytale days are pictured fantastically, they’re not sickeningly sweet, it’s just two people very in love, we all recognize it, we’ve all been there. And then slowly the deteriorating sets in, passionately becomes emotionless, empty.

In a contrasting, brilliant sequence he shows us Amy’s heart is broken, she sees her husband outside of the bakery where they met, doing the exact same thing that he did with her on their first date, to this other woman. And you really get the sense that it’s not so much about the act of cheating, it’s that he’s sharing something personal, that was between the two of them with someone else, we feel Amy’s heartbreaking in that sequence.

Fincher’s famous yellow light is present in this one too (it bothers me with his work sometimes, after a while it seems to all have the same feel visually) but the whole of Gone Girl is incredibly vibrant when it comes to the colours and lighting, it’s seemingly simple, but when it uses dramatic effects, it’s done brilliantly and paired greatly with affecting music, that further strengthens the emotion of a scene.

However, I feel like I should say that the real star of the film is undoubtedly Rosamund Pike as Amy, the girl, woman that it’s all about. Her presence is not always that obvious in the film; throughout the first half of the film, she’s present for only a bit, and then it’s basically just Affleck and flashbacks of Amy, but even then it’s her film, her presence predominates every scene in the film.

It’s got to be said that Affleck also does a good job, Nick Dunne’s not an easy character to play, and while he’s a character that’s not instantly likeable you do after a while become to sympathise with him, he plays Nick perfectly; he’s difficult to read, he seems to miss his wife, but there also seems to be some indifference present. 

He’s weary, tired, and seems lethargic throughout the film, exactly like you think a person that’s being persecuted and whose wife has disappeared would act. I definitely think it’s some Affleck’s best work. But Pike steals some of his spotlights.

Now Pike’s talent has been recognized, before this, she was always good in all the roles that I’ve seen her in, but she never had that much to sink her teeth into. Amy’s the character that has really allowed her to display her talent, not only did she put lots of work into the role: she read all the books Flynn recommended she read, and she also put work into adopting a handwriting that would fit Amy’s character.

Pike can transform here both physically and emotionally, and she does much more than the classic gaining or losing weight although she does that, and it’s not simply letting herself go either, there’s a pre disappearance and after disappearance Amy.

Amy’s an elegant stylish woman, yet in her anger and as part of her plan, she just completely lets herself go, she eats junk food, barely takes care of her physical appearance and just has a general air of sadness.

And in one scene she’s sweet when she tells Nick about her parent’s money troubles and what it will mean for them, or when she tells Nick she wants a child, these are all touching moments.

And then she snaps, and just brutally kills a man, she’s methodical, efficient, merciless, like a Greek goddess, she can be perfectly sexy one moment, and then she can literally annihilate anyone that stands in her way or that makes her feels threatened. 

It’s a truly shocking image, and Pike is perfectly unpredictable throughout, the best thing about her performance is that not only does she manipulate and set other characters to her will, and in a way scarily enough, she manipulates us too.

‘Gone Girl’s scariest message, is that everything is about perception, we see things, they seem a certain way and then we come to our own conclusions, sometimes we may be right and other times we may be right, at other times if we jump to conclusions too quickly, we might create terrible consequences. 

And then the scariest of all, even when we’re with someone and we love them, and though we feel like we know them inside out, they’re still a completely different person, they’re own person, with their own world inside of them and ‘Gone Girl’s seems to insistently whisper that it’s all advised to forget and disrespect that.

“When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?”