#a lot of people assume i studied literature

[julietsbody]

romeo meets juliet — luke castellan x reader : chess can be played in many different situations. 

tags : 18+!! loser!luke (hes actually such a loser im sorry), college setting, brothers best friend!luke, mutual pining, religious imagery(?), classic literature references, body worship, smut, luke is pathetically in love 

a/n : save me nerdy boy with sad eyes save me

luke didn’t acknowledge your existence at first, he stuck to himself, from his classes, to his dorm, maybe even the lunchroom if his roomate, your brother, convinced him to come rather than just making all of his meals in the dorm. luke and your brother were complete opposites, luke was studying literature, mostly classic,  he didn’t speak to many people unless forced to— and your brother was studying engineering, which also basically required him to join a frat, and he spoke to nearly everyone with cockiness prominent in his tone. 

one thing they did have in common, though, was chess. 

now, your brother could never tell anyone, especially not his frat brothers, that he played chess, let alone was in the university’s chess club— but he felt pity for luke, most of the time luke played by himself, which was somehow equally as frustrating as having to play against someone else. 

the only people that knew about your brother playing chess was luke, the chess club, and you. 

luke remembers the first time you came trotting in to the dorm, complaining to your brother about some argument you had with your parents about how your friends are distracting you from your studies. your brother only rolls his eyes, barely listening to your non - stop whining about how it’s ridiculous, “i mean— you’re the one in a frat! why aren’t they mad at you?” 

“because i actually do my work,” he mumbles, and luke breathes out in a silent laugh, moving a piece on his chess board. 

“you’re in engineering, you don’t even have any actual work,” you frown, and albeit the fact that you’re wrong, you’re still confident in what you said. 

“are you stu— whatever,” your brother waves you off, deciding to change the subject when he motions to luke, the boy in a nirvana t-shirt, currently moving to a different side of the chess board as he plays against himself, “this is luke, my roommate, obviously.” 

luke immediately freezes, fingers curling around the chess piece he was adjusting to move— his eyes are wide, and they’re moving to look at you, only to immediately flicker to some other part of the room when they meet your expectant gaze. since he won’t speak first, you pick up the slack, “hey, luke.” 

your brother notices how luke looks like a scared, lost puppy even by the slightest implication of having to speak to a woman, let alone be perceived by one, so he moves to whisper in your ear, “he’s like, deathly afraid of women, i’ve never seen him speak to one, ever.” 

and you from that you don’t expect a response from luke, until he mumbles a short, “hi.” 

that’s when your head tilts, noticing the way his curls fall over his brows messily, like he doesn’t pay attention to styling it, or maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he pays too much attention to styling it. the way he wore something so simple, yet so telling about himself, the way he awkwardly places the chess piece back on the board on the spot he wanted to. he assumes the conversation is over, so he moves to the opposite side of the board to make a move against his own. 

“are you in the chess club?” you take a step closer, and he perks up, hand ghosting over the piece once more. 

luke doesn’t say anything, his lips twitch around words that don’t come out. your brother speaks in his place, “he’s the president, he’s a fucking grandmaster.”

luke just awkwardly laughs, moving his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes moving from the board to you, then to your brother, “i’m not like— actually the president,” another awkward, short chuckle, “i just— like.. um.. play a lot, i guess.” 

“you are the president, dude,” your brother corrects, being insufferable as he always is. 

but luke puts up with it, then you ask another question, “what do you major in?” 

“literature,” luke responds for himself this time, finally able to move his hand to make a proper move on the chess board, before mumbling, “mostly classic.” 

“you’re kidding, i am too, how have i not seen you before?” 

luke’s eyes finally meet yours, now, pausing on your eyes, then resuming down the shape of your face, memorizing each feature, the curve of your lashes, the shape of your lips— he swallows thickly. 

“i just— sit in the back.. and go to my dorm— as soon as class ends,” there’s that awkward, short chuckle again. 

“have you finished the paper?” 

luke nods, and that’s when your brother finally gets a bright idea. 

“you should help her, luke, with the work.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

that’s how it all started, with a simple suggestion, that’s when you came to the dorm more often, when he began to notice that you were actually in his classes, and when you realized he had an awful staring problem. he thought he was slick with it too, letting his eyes move around the room for a mere.. twenty seconds before they finally snap to you, and from there, they stay, until you finally return the gaze and he’s immediately nervously looking away. 

he hardly speaks to you, unless your brother urges him to, and he’s always avoiding looking at you when he speaks, stumbling over words, pausing in sentences to catch his losing breath. he was a complete and utter loser, terrible when it came to socializing, even worse when it’s with girls. with you, it somehow seemed to worsen. 

“am i the first girl you’ve ever talked to?” you ask once, far too blunt for your own liking, you didn’t mean to really say it, it kind of just came out when seeing how much his leg bounced under the table with nervousness, nearly sweating himself to death under your gaze. 

sweat beads down his temple when his eyes flutter up to meet yours, moving from the romeo and juliet book in his hands. isn’t it so ironic that he had just gotten done reading the scene in which romeo says, “did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! for i ne'er saw true beauty till this night,” when seeing juliet for the first time? truly, it isn’t the first time he saw you, but it’s night, and you are beautiful. truly, utterly, “beautiful.” 

“what?” 

oh, oh my god. saliva bubbles in his mouth, sour saliva, and he gulps it down, hoping it would somehow be a form of poison that would wake him from this nightmare. does he say what he meant? that he was thinking out loud? that he thinks you’re beautiful? or should he deny it? deny. he bursts into awkward laughs, “what— what do you mean— i.. i didn’t even say anything.. ha, haha.” 

“why are you acting like that?” your brows furrow. 

“like what?” 

“like you’re hiding something.” 

his breathing only shakes anymore, “i’m not hiding anything.. that’s like— a wild accusation.” 

“it’s not an accusation, i’m just saying,” you frown at him. 

his adam’s apple bobs with another swallow, “okay but like—“ 

“why are you harassing him?” your brother sighs, tired how much you press luke. 

“i’m not— whatever, i was asking you— am i the first girl you’ve ever spoken to?” 

your brother barks out a laugh, and luke’s eyes fall back down to the book in his hands. did not having proper conversations with women make him any less? romeo grabbed juliet’s hand once, and the first words he uttered to her was a promise to redeem himself if his hand was too unworthy to be touching her holy one. parallels sear in his mind, and he just mumbles a, “not really.” 

he has spoken to women before, sure, small greetings, maybe even the slightest indulgence of conversation— but luke keeps to himself, and to be honest, he was a man used to running from women, as he did from his mother. he grew up being afraid of women, well, afraid isn’t the proper word, intimidated is better, and he just decided to avoid them as much as possible. 

though, no matter how much he tries to avoid you, you’re always there, in his sight, in his mind. maybe it’s a disgrace, like romeo holding juliet’s hand, for him to even be thinking of you, looking at you— you were a goddess that offered a man on his knees the slightest bit of your grace, and now he was hooked. 

it was pathetic, really, how he anticipated every time he suspected you would be over, how his eyes always found their way to you in class, how he made sure to purposefully walk past you in the lunchroom on the days he went, which was oddly more now. 

a man who is still a virgin to adore a girl far too good for him, he is hopeless. 

“it’s okay if i am,” you adjust, okay, there might be a little hope, “anyway, how do you like romeo and juliet?” 

“it’s pretty nice—“ he notices the way your face perks up in shock, “kind of, i don’t know.” 

“i think it’s a bore, i’m sure the movie is much better.” 

“we should watch the movie— um.. together, sometime.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

if luke was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely mean to say it, and as soon as you left the dorm, he nearly doubled over with shock at his own words, and even more shock at the fact that you agreed. not only did you agree, you actually came, and it was just you and him. your brother was off at some frat party, again, and he had left luke completely alone with you, even when luke begged him not to. 

“you’re kidding, dude, i’m like— horrified of her,” luke frowns at your brother. 

“you need exposure therapy, or some shit, call me your therapist.” 

“you’re a shit therapist,” luke sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“and you need to grow some balls.” 

so, your brother left him, and now luke’s awkwardly standing with you at his door - step, staring at him expectantly, his lips twitch around so many possible words, possible sentences, and all that comes out is, “hey.” 

he’s been staring for you for at least a minute, and all he can say is hey. your lips curve to an amused smile, “hi, luke.” 

“um— you can come in, if you.. want, ‘course.” he moves out the way to let you in, watching you step past him so he can close the door. 

“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to,” you remark as if it’s the obvious, mostly because it is. 

when romeo stood underneath juliet’s balcony, he praised how captivating she was, considers her as glorious as an angel, a winged messenger above his head. in his own words : 

“one who makes mortals fall onto their backs to gaze up in awe as the angel strides across the clouds and sails through the air.”

consider luke on his back now, staring up at the stars in your eyes, the halo that shines above your head, the wings that flap with every stride you make— a goddess, an angel, venus incarnate, right before his eyes, staring at him like he had something deeply wrong with him. wait. he blinks a few times, and his eyes refocus onto your confused face. 

“are you okay, luke?” 

he quickly clears his throat, “yeah, yeah— duh, ‘course i am, uh.. we should,” he moves to the table in which his laptop was on, “watch the movie, yeah? ‘ts on my.. laptop, if you don’t mind.” 

“i don’t, at all,” you move to sit next to him on the couch in front of the table, watching the veins in his hands pulse, palms sweaty when he moves to open his laptop, shifting a few tabs and pressing a few keys until he mumbles a small okay and presses the space button. 

moaning. that’s all you hear, the sound of skin slapping, ah ah— oh fuck mmph you’re so b— luke slams the laptop shut. 

dear god, save him now. 

he can’t even bring himself to look at you, the sweat on his palms only worsens and spreads onto the top of the laptop as he smoothes his hands across it, replaying the scene a million times in his mind. to his surprise, you giggle, “you watch porn?” 

he’s quick to awkwardly scoff out a short laugh, “yeah— i mean, everyone does.. but like.. i don’t watch it— that much.” 

your finger moves to run along the vein on his arm, feeling him shudder under your touch, yet he doesn’t want you to stop, even the slightest touch makes his dick twitch in his pants, “are you a virgin, luke?” 

he inhales sharply, “y-yeah..” 

“do you want to have sex?” you lean the tiniest bit closer. 

he pauses, “yes.. of course—“ 

“with me?” 

“yes.” he responds quick, too fucking quick, it must’ve been at most a second after you said it for him to respond. the truth stings his tongue, to finally be able to say it out loud, how much he had fantasized about you in the late of night, even sneaking off to the bathrooms so his hand can dip underneath his waistband when he thinks about the times you’ve worn a tight shirt that frames your tits far too well. 

but it was wrong, wasn’t it? you were a goddess, on a pedestal, and he was merely just a man, staring up at your statue in the hopes that you would notice him one day. forbidden, possibly, but all those thoughts leave his mind when his eyes move from the finger tracing up his bicep to your neck, then your lips, then your eyes. 

“please tell me you’ve kissed before.” 

“yeah.. yeah— i have,” a playground kiss counts, right?

it seems to when your lips fall against his own, the kiss was so gentle, until he dared to kiss you back, then it got hungry, mostly on his end. he kissed you like a starving man, nearly devouring you but at the same time, being horrified to. your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, and to your surprise, he whimpers against your lips.

his hands are hesitant, unsure of where to go, does he touch your arm? your shoulder? your waist? he doesn’t want to push anything, so the waist seems far too much, his hands awkwardly place themselves on your arm, in a very weird position. 

“have you touched a girl before?” 

his lips are flushed from the kiss, eyes glazing over the position of his hands, and he quickly moves them off, “sorry— well, i just.. um.. didn’t want to push anything.” 

“you can,” you reassure, but his hands still hesitate, the flesh of a goddess, to be touched by someone so inexperienced. was he really worth it? any of it? to even be in your presence was a blessing, and it was still taking him forever to register the fact that you had actually kissed him, prayers passed through your lips into his. 

“are you sure?” 

“‘course i am.” 

it still took luke some getting used to, having you straddle his lap, you knew so much, it felt like more than just an honor to have you so close to him. his eyes flicked from your own to your lips, then to your tits, the low v - cut showing off your cleavage perfectly. and he looked like a complete deer in headlights, staring at the flesh pushed together between the window of clothing. you smile at his lack of self control, feeling the way his dick throbs underneath his pants, right against your ass, “you can touch them.” 

“wha— nono, ‘ts okay— i just..” he trails off, sweaty palms moving past you to slide across his knees. 

“really, luke, you can— why don’t i just..” you move to take off your shirt, his eyes immediately catching on to the lace of your bra, the way your tits are practically spilling out of it, all until you take off your bra as well and they immediately fall out. 

his hand twitches around nothing, desperately wondering what it must feel like to have your flesh underneath his palm, fingers curling around the plush of it. it seems you must’ve heard his prayers when you move to take his hands, pulling them back to press against your tits. 

soft, that’s his first thought, sweat sticks to your skin when his fingers curve around the flesh, gripping it ever so gently. praises spill from his lips almost immediately, thoughts he had since the day he saw you, finally being spoken, “y’re beautiful— fuck, i’ve always.. always wanted to— do this..” 

you smile so sweet at him, nectar nearly drips off your teeth, “can i ride you, luke?” 

his eyes finally meet yours, brows furrowing for a mere second, “huh— oh, oh.. yeah, ‘course you can.” 

you didn’t expect him to have a big, no matter how cruel that sounds, you had heard rumors of nerds with big dicks, but sought to never believe it until you saw it, and good fucking lord you saw it. as soon as his dick springs out from the pants and boxers you were tugging down, luke’s hands mindlessly moved to your waist, your eyes widen. 

no fucking way. he has to be.. six? seven inches, at least. slightly girthy too, he wasn’t all just length, and precum was beading from his red tip. he immediately inhales sharply when your fingers graze his dick, nervous under your gaze, “is it too small— i.. i’m sorry—“ 

“too small?” you scoff playfully at his scared expression, worried of what you think, “this might be the biggest dick i’ve ever seen, luke.” 

“that’s— a good thing.. right?” 

“obviously, god, it better fit,” this is the first time you’ve ever been concerned about whether or not a dick will fit, luke stiffens when you spit on your palm, pressing it to his dick and wettening it as you jerk him off, his response is immediate, carefully gripping at your skin and pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers. 

luke had jerked of many, many times, but it never felt as good as this. 

“fuck—“ he grunts out, already far too close from just a simple hand movements. 

you immediately stop, picking up on his nearing orgasm from the way his hips kept bucking up into your hands, pathetic whines slipping past his lips, but it was just so cute. the cutest thing, though, was his face when he got the first look at your vagina, he looked like a man staring at a piece of art he had admired. and this was art, sex was, you were, everything about you, it felt so sacred. 

his lashes flutter when you take his hand, guiding it to your sopping cunt, allowing him to feel the wetness that was nearly pouring from you. like nectar from a fountain, it coated his fingertips when he touched you, his eyes focused onto your face, making sure that he was doing it right. he notices the way you gasp when his fingertips brush against your clit, so he presses against it again, and again. 

he follows everything he has seen in pornos, spreading your folds, fingers grazing past your entrance, rubbing your clit— but he’s lost when you wave him off before he can finger you to prep you for his dick, wasn’t that something people did? “but don’t you…” 

“it’ll fit,” you mumble back, relying on how wet you are to make it easier. 

he watches the way your jaw falls when you move to press his tip against your entrance, allowing the tip to push into you and it’s already too big. his eyes widen at the feeling of your walls clenching around his tip, unable to hold back the noises that slip from his own lips. 

“you’re like— the.. the girl of my dr— fuck— dreams,” luke hushed out between his mess of moans and grunts, he wondered if romeo ever felt this way when he kissed juliet for the first time, the sort of electric rush that riddled his bones, it felt unreal. you were a dream incarnate, one luke was always haunted with, the woman that would show up when his eyes would close at night, and now you were on his lap, sinking down on his dick. 

“am i? really?” you question, inhaling sharply when you finally reach the base of his cock. for some odd reason, you didn’t believe you were all he was putting you up to be, and that made him sick— how could you think of yourself as any less? you were perfect, a vision, to be fair, luke would adore you even if you were an enemy, just like romeo and juliet. 

he would stand at your balcony, stare at you from across the ballroom, kiss your knuckles, kiss you— he would do it all. he might even drink poison just to spend eternity with you. 

“yes, yes— are you.. kidding? mmph.. fuck— you’re like.. a fuckin’ goddess,” it comes out like a prayer, as if he was on his knees at your altar, kissing your legs, and whispering worshipping words. 

to nobody’s surprise, luke doesn’t last long at all when you’re bouncing on his cock, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from his throbbing cock by pawing at your tits, or moving to kiss you, his orgasm was just too close. “‘m g’na.. please.. g’na cum.. mmphh.. fuck!” 

when he does cum, you had pulled off him, jerking him off, and he’s practically writhing, a whimpering and damn near crying mess. and once he’s helped you to your orgasm as well, you’re falling into his arms, finding a safe - haven in how he smells like old books, mint, and cheap cologne. 

two star crossed lovers, one capulet, one montague. 

“these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. which, as they kiss, consume.” — romeo and juliet, act two, scene six.

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[estcaligo]

Sebek and Romance

Some thoughts after this event update

I really liked this small detail in this part of the event - a "bittersweet" (or "sweet and sour" literally, from Japanese) moment between Sally and Jack. When she leaves her basket for Jack (which Trey refers to as a "bento"), we get to see the NRC guys reacting to that display of affection.

Surprisingly, Sebek's reaction was very calm and mature.

When Grim says "Bittersweet? I wanna try eating it!"

Sebek comments "Haha. Grim, that's something even you can't devour" in a calm manner.

In many fanworks, especially fics, Sebek is often depicted as inexperienced or nervous when it comes to matters of love. I enjoy this interpretation too because it can be funny sometimes. But understanding and reacting to romantic interactions is a learned skill (like any social skill), and we should remember a few points:

Sebek has loving parents who have three children. Considering the history of their relationship, I imagine they aren't shy about showing how much they love each other, including in front of their kids. I'm sure Mama Zigvolt has, at least once, explained to Sebek that this is because Mama and Papa love each other very much. So, Sebek is familiar with these kinds of feelings from his family.

Books, books, books.

Books are a big part of Sebek's life - for hobbies, studies, and bonding (for example, with his grandfather or the Prefect). He reads a lot on various topics, and naturally, throughout his life, he must have come across books with romantic themes. We can learn a lot from books, including social skills, even if it's only in a descriptive sense. So, Sebek has also learned about romance through literature.

Arts and culture.

Sebek is familiar with operas and musicals, as mentioned in the Endless Halloween event. We can assume he has some interest in them or, at least, participates in watching them with his family nowadays too (because he mentioned Zigvolts spend quite a lot of time together, like attending parks, so why not.)

We don't know what kind of plays he watches, but we can assume there are at least some romantic motifs, as is often the case in classic operas and theater. Watching actors - who often exaggerate emotions - could give him an understanding of how romantic situations unfold, and this exposure can likely have an impact on him. 

He also does thorough research into the arts when required, and some romantic themes might come up. For instance, if he knows Aurora, he must be familiar with her story, including her love interest and the kiss plot (though TWST may have twisted these stories, I presume core elements like the love story remain intact). So, Sebek can learn about romance thought art.

Lilia's supervision.

Sebek spends a lot of time with Lilia as his pupil, along with Silver, so naturally, he absorbs a lot of information about the world from his teacher - not just combat skills. And, well, Lilia's wisdom might be mischievous, if not dubious at times. In Ghost Bride event, it's noted that one of Sebek's visions of courting his future partner involves…well

which is kind of cute, if you ask me.

So, coming back to this event's reaction:

Seeing the display of affection between a loving couple is nothing new for Sebek, and he understands it surprisingly well.

At least when it comes to other people...

[jinnie-ret]

THE TUTOR

poly!stray kids x reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: toxic relationship (not with SKZ)

word count: 5.4k

summary: becoming lee felix's tutor was quite possibly the best decision she could have made. toxic exes, university assignments and a whole lot of confusing feelings, how does skz fit into this equation?

collab w/ @astraykidforsure

I've absolutely loved working on this with my gorgeous talented pookie! I think it's my fav fic written ever so to have collabed on this was so fun to share our ideas together and give you this!!!

Here is our other fic here which you can find on her page! It's the cutest fluffiest Christmas fic ever so I hope you enjoy :)))

MAIN MASTERLIST

Handing in the penultimate assignment of the year, Y/N couldn't hide her sigh of relief when she gave her paper to her professor. She had given everything to this piece of work, sleepless nights, even forgetting to eat sometimes too, as she was so caught up in her studies. It happened that just as she was handing in this assignment, she was given her results of the previous one she had done. Feeling as if it had been ages ago since she had completed it, Y/N was pleasantly surprised to see the number on the document her professor handed to her.

"85, that's another 'first', top grades as always, Miss Park," Mr Jung, Y/N's English Literature professor grinned at her proudly as he handed her paper back to her.

"Thanks Mr Jung!" Y/N grinned happily, always one to be energetic and bubbly no matter what kind of hurdle was in her way.

"Now, I look forward to reading this one here... but I have one request," Mr Jung pushed up his glasses as he gently placed down her recently finished assignment onto his stack of others he would be due to read.

"Oh, what is it?" Y/N pursed her lips curiously, hands behind her back as she wondered what Mr Jung was about to tell her. She was very much so looking forwards to a small break so hopefully whatever he said next wouldn't be something that would consume a lot of her time.

"One of the students in our class, Lee Felix, I assume you know him? He's falling behind, and I thought you'd be the perfect student to help him. So what do you say?" Mr Jung proposed the idea to Y/N of becoming Felix's tutor.

This wasn't exactly what she expected. Lee Felix? Everyone on campus knew him and the friend group he was a part of. You couldn't not know him. He stuck out especially to Y/N, not just because of the fact he was on the same course as her, but because of his sweet personality and how nicely he treated everyone around him. She aimed to be like him.

What Y/N didn't already realise, was that she was a similar kind of person, and people recognised her kindness. Although she mainly kept to herself, always had her nose in a book or her head in the clouds, she greeted everyone kindly. And for that, she was already loved so much.

It couldn't hurt to help out, could it? Sure, she wanted a break, but this should be things she already knew. And it wasn't like she would be forced to spend her time with anyone horrible. The only thing remotely intimidating was the fact that she'd be presumably meeting one of the most popular friend groups on campus.

But, perhaps it would be nice to properly talk to them, instead of just greeting them like her friendly self normally did.

"- Miss Park?" Mr Jung was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, I'll do it," Y/N grinned, adjusting her bag on her shoulders before waving her professor goodbye.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was 4:30pm. Right on the dot.

Y/N had arrived perfectly on time, oddly nervous for her first tutor session with Felix. Maybe it was because she hadn't spoken to him properly, apart from the emails back and forth on when to arrange a mutually good time to meet. And that took a while in itself, because Felix didn't seem to check his emails a lot. It would be much easier once she had his phone number to text, and it seemed much less formal too.

Not only that, but it would be nice to see a different name pop up on her screen other than her persistent ex, Johnny, who couldn't seem to forget about her.

Knock, knock, knock.

Y/N stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other before the door opened.

"Y/N right? Come in, come in, sorry about the mess!" Felix cheerfully greeted her with a pre warning of the state of his dorm, which she quickly realised he shared with all of the other guys.

Was it messy? Yes, but the typical mess you'd expect for a boys' dorm. It was homely though. Domestic.

On a coffee table, there was a computer science textbook lying open beside a laptop covered in cat stickers, neatly kept to one side, almost to avoid the art materials spread precariously across the furniture. There was barely any room for the puppy patterned mug of coffee to sit, most likely brewed from the expensive coffee machine in the kitchen, Y/N had noticed. The TV screen was on, showing the title screen of a game she didn't quite recognise, she wasn't much of a gamer herself. As she glanced to where she could take off her coat in the lobby area, there was a gym bag, a backpack with headphones peeking out of the top, and some keys scattered to the side, charmingly accompanied by a koala keyring and a kangaroo one too.

"Don't worry about the mess, it's homely," Y/N shrugged, taking her coat off and feeling a bit surprised when Felix wordlessly took it out of her hands and hung it up for her.

"That's the excuse Hannie always uses..." Felix chuckles, before his eyes widen, "oh yeah! My boyf- roommates are all home right now around here somewhere, so don't be shocked if you see one of them walking about. We can study in my room if you want? It'll be much quieter," he stumbled on his words.

"Sure, whatever is more comfier for you, Felix," Y/N grinned as he nodded once more and they set up things in his room at his desk. Felix brought out his laptop to takes notes as Y/N brought out her notebook. Clearly they had different ways of studying, but that didn't seem to deter her, things like that didn't mean much when she was here to help.

"So, how much have you gotten done so far?" Y/N popped the lid off of her pen, both of them giggling as it flew onto the floor somewhere.

"Don't hate me if I say none of it?" Felix replied sheepishly as he crouched down to retrieve the piece of stationary and sat back down in his seat.

"I can't hate you, silly! I've only just met you!" Y/N shook her head with a gummy smile, not knowing she was melting Felix's heart as she did so.

And so, they began, Y/N guiding Felix to the best references and praising him for his ideas that he thought of for the assignment. She made sure she steered him in the right direction and he seemed to be on the right path already.

Knock, knock.

The door opened to reveal two handsome men, both with sharp features, one with longer black hair and the other with a bold purple style.

"Here, have some brain power," the guy with purple hair put the plate down in front of the two, Y/N already smiling at the colourful fruit presented in front of them.

"That's Minho by the way, and that's Hyunjin," Felix pointed out to Y/N, before munching on a piece of honeydew melon. She waved at them with an enthusiastic 'hi' as they made themselves at home in Felix's room.

Hyunjin stretched across the bed as Minho perched against the desk on Felix's side.

"I think I'll be eating most of this then if it's for brain power," Felix grabbed a few more pieces of fruit, shoving it into his mouth contentedly at the sweet taste.

"You better save some of it for Y/N! She's the guest! Plus, I had to spend time with Minho in the kitchen, with a knife... My life was on the line for these snacks!" Hyunjin professed dramatically, sat up on the bed now as he moved his hands around whilst explaining.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle along with Felix, Hyunjin noticing this as he smiled at how comfortable she was around them already.

"Just wait, you'll have to stay for dinner one time, and then you'll see!" Hyunjin widened his eyes comically, as Y/N nodded along in agreement.

"You like to cook, Y/N?" Minho asked curiously, showing interest in the girl who came round to tutor his boyfriend.

"I'm not the best at cooking actually... Most times I just eat ramen for dinner or order fried chicken," she pinched her lip habitually and covered her awkward grin, yet everyone else could still see it from the way her eyes crinkled.

"Ah! That's not good, I'll have to feed you, make sure you get something nutritional in that belly," Minho patted her head as he tutted.

"That's our Minho, he always cooks for us, he's such a doting boyfriend-" Felix nuzzled his head against Minho's stomach before freezing in place. He may have hidden their secret before but this time he couldn't help himself.

"Y/N, look, we-" Hyunjin stumbled over his words as he stood up now, next to Felix and Minho as he took in the girl's shocked expression.

"It's ok, it's ok, I won't judge," she quickly held her hands up to try and calm them.

"It's easier said then done, not exactly conventional having 8 guys date each other," Minho sighed, stroking Felix's hair soothingly to show he didn't blame the younger.

"Please don't tell anyone," Felix couldn't even look her in the eyes. He felt like he had already blown his chances of getting good grades. Like, what a bombshell to drop on your tutor. Oh yeah, by the way, I have 8, boyfriends but keep it a secret, please.

"Guys, please, it's ok, really. I wouldn't dare tell anyone. That's not my information to share, I'd rather you act natural around me then hide that side to yourselves, ok?" Y/N spoke carefully, taking in all of their expressions to make sure her message was heard.

"You've got a good tutor here, Lixie," Hyunjin sighs in relief, a small smile painting his face.

"I do," he nodded in agreement, relieved that she was someone he could not only learn from, but trust too.

Y/N would come to see a lot of sweet interactions between the boys, and also get to know them a lot more too. This was only the start.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Over the next few weeks, Y/N had really gotten to know the other guys quite well, and when she had reassured the rest of them in person that their secret was safe with her, the arms she was welcomed with were open even more.

"Hi love, come in!" Chan softly smiled at her as she entered the dorms, her books already clutched in her arms.

"You're in a cheery mood today, Channie, get some sleep for once?" Y/N laughed and teased the older boy, looking away mischievously when he pulled a face that said 'why did I let her and Seungmin interact?'.

"Go on go, go find Felix and help him study," he fake sighed and shooed her away, pushing her in the direction of Felix's room with a laugh, but wincing when her phone hit the floor. "Oh sorry!" he was quick to pick it up, the phone lighting up with yet another text message, making him frown.

"Oh it's fine, don't worry," Y/N went to grab it back quickly and hesitantly, Chan let her.

"Who's Johnny?" he chewed his lip as he asked the question.

"He's no one," Y/N shrugged him off, making sure she had all her books ready and was about to enter Felix's room, hand reaching for the handle when Chan realised he couldn't let this go so soon.

The rest of the boys and himself had grown to like Y/N a lot in such a short space of time. Her caring nature had stolen a piece of each of their hearts and they found themselves exuding that same care towards her.

"Love, it doesn't look like nothing, that was a whole lot of texts," Chan warily rested a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N sighed before moving over to their sofa, Chan following right behind her.

"It's really nothing... I'm used to it," she shrugged, biting on the inside of her cheek.

"So if it's nothing why are we taking a seat to talk about this, hmm?" Chan calmly spoke to her, lightly pinching her cheek to get her to stop.

"I don't know if I'm overreacting or not... sometimes I think I am but other times, here just look," Y/N shakily hands over her phone to Chan, and he grasped her hand in his as he read the more recent ones that appeared in her notifications.

"These messages are horrible, Y/N, why don't you just block him?" Chan was horrified at the threatening messages he read, nostrils flaring more and more at each word that his eyes scanned.

"He always finds a way to message me from a new number... See?" Y/N reluctantly released her hand from Chan's as she unlocked her phone and showed her messages, previous conversations all with the same tone to them, but from different numbers. "You can always tell it's him messaging because he always leaves a space between the full stop and the word. And then he doesn't use slang in his texts apart from 'ur'," she further explains to Chan, who was in disbelief at how she spoke so causally of what was happening to her. Yet, he could tell there were some feelings she was internalising too.

"You're too smart for your own good, love," Chan rubbed her shoulder, proud of her analysing skills that she recognised it was her ex. "You really don't deserve this," he murmured, leaning his head on top of hers.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was nice, to feel that love and appreciation again, without having any labels attached. But then it had Y/N thinking, what really was this thing between her and the boys?

"Aren't you going to take a break too, Y/Nnie? Felix has been playing this game for at least twenty minutes now!" Changbin leant his head back on the sofa arm as he watched the girl diligently flicking through her notes whilst Felix went to take a 'short' break and play on his PC.

"Ah, it's fine haha, I want to make sure I've got some stuff ready for when Felix is done," Y/N brushed off Changbin's concerns and pushed back a stray piece of hair as she read through the notes she had made during the afternoon.

"Nope, no, not having it, I'll get Seungmin to make you some of his fresh coffee and then you will sit here, right next to me," Changbin sat up, patting a space on the sofa next to him, "and drink it."

"But Changbin-" Y/N sighed, covering her face and leaning back into the chair at the table, already hearing the whirring of the coffee machine in the kitchen, meaning Seungmin was around and overheard the small harmless bickering.

"Nope, now come, sit here," Changbin didn't budge, from not just his seat but his efforts to getting Y/N to take a break too.

She groaned as she complied and sat next to the muscly guy, who hummed in content when he felt the dip of the sofa next to him.

Seungmin entered the lounge, bringing over a mug of coffee for Y/N, dainty sunflowers painted all over it.

"Wow this mug is so cute!" Y/N grinned as she held it up slightly to admire it.

"Good. It's your mug," Seungmin nodded as he sat at the end of the sofa, a mug of coffee made for himself as he placed it done on the table.

"My mug? I don't even live here, Seungmin," Y/N tried to laugh it off, but she couldn't help but feel butterflies at the warmth she received from these guys. The way that they always made sure she felt at home in their home.

"You might as well, haha, with the amount of times Felix invites you over to study when half the time he's all distracted," Seungmin pushed up his glasses, turning to look at Y/N.

"Well I thought that's why he wanted me over more... Because we didn't get enough done in the first place?" Y/N pursed her lips in thought, before blowing on the coffee to try and cool it down even though it had been freshly brewed and was still very hot.

"Interesting take... I'm with Seungmin on this one though," Changbin raised an eyebrow at Y/N's reasoning before cooing at Seungmin, reaching over to pat him on the knee.

"Ew, hyung," Seungmin wrinkled his nose, bringing his legs further up on the sofa and curling up.

"Hey! Don't reject me in front of Y/N... i-it's embarrassing! I'm a desirable man!" Changbin complained loudly, throwing his arms up in the air before folding them and sinking into the sofa.

Y/N couldn't help but agree, nodding to herself as she bit her lip. Changbin was a handsome man. All of them were. They were all lucky to have each other, not only for their looks but their personalities too.

"I saw that look, you're not so sly, sunflower," Seungmin whispered in Y/N's ear as he patted her head before wrapping his arms around Changbin to quieten the pouting man, cheekily biting his neck in the process.

"Yah! Kim Seungmin!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A rough day was rare for Y/N, for she always strived to push any stress away and focus on what she was meant to be doing. But with another influx of texts from Johnny, he wasn't making her day so easy. Even more so because he was waiting outside of her class.

"Never answer my texts huh? I just want you to talk to me, that's all I want!" Johnny grabbed Y/N's wrist and took her to the side of the empty hallway.

Not only was the poor girl shocked at him grabbing her harshly, she also wondered how he knew where her class was, they didn't even take the same course, let alone similar ones for him to be in the same building as her.

"You don't deserve that, Johnny, not after what you put me through," Y/N pulled her arm away from him and redirected herself outside, hoping that was all this confrontation would be.

Oh how wrong she was. Walking outside where there was more students around should have made Y/N feel safer, even with Johnny on her tail, but with the gossipy nature of the university, it made things worse.

"Don't you want me?" Johnny growled, his voice too loud for her liking as people around her pulled out their phones and started filming as he grabbed her wrist tightly once again.

"No! I don't! I hate you!" Y/N said through gritted teeth, trying to regain ownership of her own limb.

This seemed to frustrate Johnny even further, his intentions becoming more and more clear.

He spat at her, right in her face.

"People like you don't deserve to even be with me, I'm doing you a favour!" he tried to pull her along with him.

Y/N felt helpless. Why wasn't anyone helping her? They were too busy hiding behind their phone screens.

"No, I'm doing myself a favour and getting away from you!" Y/N took matters into her own hands and despite the fast beat of her heart she stomped on his foot and stormed away quickly, wiping her tears as she did so.

It wasn't long until the video started floating around other students. Chan and Changbin, who were in one of the studios courtesy of the uni's musical facilities, received a text from Minho.

Minho: pls tell me this isn't y/n...

[vid.attchmnt]

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Is that my favourite person in the world?!" Han hugged Y/N as soon as she walked through the door.

Han had admired Y/N as soon as he met her, always wanting to cuddle her because he thought she was so sweet and 'too pure for this world'.

And oh, did Y/N need that hug, especially after the day she had.

"Hey, she was mine first!" Felix wrapped her up into a big hug of his own as he pushed Han away, not too hard though.

Mine?

That would be a thought for another time...

Pushing the boys away and letting them bicker playfully between themselves, she sat down next to Jeongin on the sofa, who was absorbed in whatever video game it was that he was playing. She often had comfortable silences when she was in the space of the younger. But she likes that. They could appreciate each other's presences without needing to say much. Without needing to say anything.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her head as she read through her notes once more, wondering what part of the words that were jumbling right in front of her very eyes, would be more useful to Felix today.

"You should play one day," Jeongin spoke up quietly, as to not disturb her focus and for him to maintain his own as he fiddled with the joysticks.

"Ah I don't know a lot about gaming, plus staring at the screen would give me an even worse headache right now I think," Y/N sank deeper into the sofa in defeat, rubbing her eyes as she tossed her notes aside.

"Let me get you some painkillers," Jeongin immediately paused his game, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

"No it's fine-" Y/N tried to stop him.

"You take them with water?" Jeongin ignored her attempts as he called out from the other room.

"Yes," Y/N replied quietly but he still seemed to have heard her.

Jeongin returned into the lounge with two painkillers and a some water in a glass prettily painted with sunflowers on it. It wouldn't be hard to guess who bought her that.

"Cute glass," Y/N fondly smiled, as she sipped the water slowly and swallowed the painkillers.

Jeongin loved how she was still able to smile despite the pain she was in. He admired her for that.

"A certain puppy picked that one out, convinced Minho and Jinnie that it was necessary," Jeongin nodded at her, taking his seat but not returning to his game straight away.

"Well I love it, I'll tell him thank you later if I see him," Y/N placed down the glass and instead of relaxing into the sofa once more, she found herself in a pair of arms instead.

"I'm sure you will," Han gently hugged her gently this time, noticing her demeanour was quieter than usual and that she had taken some tablets.

"You sure you want to study today, Y/N?" Felix rubbed her knee soothingly, not wanting to pressure her.

"Yeah, I'm sure, maybe we can take it slow today?" Y/N makes a compromise, not wanting to let down the sunshine on front of her.

"Of course, of course, love, that sounds like a better idea, just tell me if you want to take a break, yeah? Don't want you to be feeling in pain just because you're trying to help me," Felix kisses the top of her head, making her blush.

What was going on with her heart? Maybe she was just still feeling shaken up from earlier on.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell us something happened between you and Johnny?" Han suddenly tensed up, and Y/N could feel it. She didn't dare look at the video Han was playing on his phone.

In that moment, Seungmin and Hyunjin entered the dorm, frowns on their faces.

"Ah Seungmin! There you are, thanks for getting me this glass, you really didn't have to," Y/N tried to change the subject, hoping their frowns would disappear but it didn't work.

"Nope, don't do that sunflower," Seungmin shook his head, taking off his shoes and putting his slippers on.

"Angel, why didn't you say anything, hmm?" Hyunjin walked over in front of the sofa, hands on his hips.

"No wonder you weren't feeling great," Jeongin's eyes widened in realisation after watching the video over Han's shoulder, handing Y/N the glass of water once more to encourage her to take some sips.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Y/N didn't even believe herself as she spoke.

"Y/Nnie, there's a video going around of you and Johnny in the square at uni," Hyunjin crouched down in front of her.

"Wait? I haven't seen that video, I've only seen the one of hyungs cornering him," Seungmin spoke up, sharing a confused look at Hyunjin. He was sure they had been speaking about the same thing earlier, yet with both of the information they had seen from different videos, they must have been able to fill in the gaps.

"W-wait they what?" Y/N stuttered as she looked back and forth between the boys.

In that moment, Seungmin held up a video playing on his phone, showing the three eldest of the group cornering Johnny against a wall, holding him by the collar of his shirt as they shouted at him.

Y/N couldn't believe her eyes.

"It's ok," Felix's deep voice soothed her as he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her closer to his chest.

"Let's just have a relaxing evening yeah? Take your mind off of it," Seungmin instructed, tucking Y/N's notes away into her bag.

"Felix is that ok with-"

"Don't even worry love, it's fine," Felix rubbed her shoulder once more, Han holding her hand as he leant his head on her shoulder.

They all began to relax, watching a Disney film. Y/N cuddled up between the September twins, and Jeongin reluctantly allowing his overly affectionate hyungs, Seungmin and Hyunjin, to coddle and cuddle him.

Around halfway through the film, the front door unlocked and 3 sets of footsteps marched inside.

"Is she here? Is she ok?!"

"I swear she was meant to have a tutor session with Lixie today but they're not in his room..."

"Wait, her shoes are here."

Chan, Minho and Changbin all sighed in relief, almost synchronised, as they saw the object of their concern cuddled up to their other boyfriends.

"Y/Nnie, love, come here a sec," Chan whispered into her ear, gesturing her to come to the side to talk to all 3 of them.

She felt nervous just standing there as their eyes scanned her to make sure she was physically ok.

"Guys, you didn't have to do that..." Y/N shook her head, hands retreating into the sleeves of a jumper Han let her borrow because he insisted a cosy jumper is a cosy heart and it would make her feel better.

He wasn't wrong.

"Oh but we did, it wasn't right what he did to you Y/N, and I don't know what he's done to you in the past but..." Changbin trailed off, fists clenched at the thought of Johnny.

"He'll never hurt you again, ok?" Minho promised, hand caressing her cheek gently.

"And if he does anything again tell one of us right away, we got you," Chan rubbed her shoulder, a pout on his face reflecting Y/N's as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Thanks guys," Y/N sniffled, hugging each of them.

Hyunjin, who was snooping on the conversation with eager ears, called out across to them, "yah! Don't make Angel cry, we just calmed her down!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N was confused. She wasn't as sure anymore, or, at least not as much as before, that is. Sure, she knew about their relationship, of course. Though she wasn't apart of it. They seemed to act so nice and loving towards her. Always helping her out, Felix giving her extra attention and affection when he thought she needed it. The boys always bring her food whenever they got food themselves. They'd ruffle her hair and give her soft smiles. Back hugs and forehead kisses. It's so much more than that. They just treat her so well. She's supposed to keep their secret, but, then again, she's not dating any of them.

Despite everything, does that mean they're messing with her? Are they doing this to mess with her feelings? She sure hoped that wasn't the case. She's been having so much doubt lately with this situation she seemed to have gotten herself stuck in. But, she didn't want to be seen as if she was trying to interrupt or ruin their relationship by confessing. Seriously, one girl and eight guys? She wasn't so sure that it was realistic, whether she wanted it to be or not.

She just wanted this guilt that she constantly felt to go away. She didn't want to stress over this anymore or worry. She hated these nerves that she constantly felt, continuously. She wanted this to be over, even if she never ended up dating them.

Knock, knock, knock.

"We've missed you," Jeongin was shocked to see her as he opened the front door, blurting out the first words that came to mind as he welcomed her inside.

It had been 5 days since they saw her. But it was 5 days too long.

Y/N stood at the edge of the lounge not knowing what to say as the boys all turned and gasped as they saw her.

"What's been going on, Y/Nnie?" Han slowly asked.

"Talk to us love..." Felix begged, he just wanted to know why she created some distance between them all.

"Don't call me that when you don't mean... When you don't want..." Y/N ran a stressed hand through her hair, not knowing how to articulate herself because her emotions were all over the place.

"Come sit down ang-, Y/N, it's ok, talk to us," Hyunjin went to call jer ny his usual nickname, but sensing her discomfort, he chose not to this time. And it felt weird.

"I'm so confused right now..." Y/N began, perching on the edge of the armchair where Changbin was sat.

"You asked me to keep your relationship secret and of course I'd never tell anyone but, I feel like, gosh no I can't say it it'll sound so stupid," Y/N scolded herself, Chan patting her back lightly as he stood next to her.

"Nothing you say is stupid, you're very clever, sunflower," Seungmin shook his head, not liking the sight of the girl he was so fond of, looking so distressed.

"What am I to you guys? L-like am I just Felix's tutor to you, or just even a friend or-"

"You're much more to us then those things, and I know you know that by now," Minho leant forward in his seat on the sofa.

"We like you, a lot, Y/N," Felix said with his hand on his chest.

"W-why couldn't you just tell me that? I-i've been going out of my mind," Y/N ducked her head down, covering her face with her hands.

"We didn't want to pressure you after that situation with your ex..." Changbin grasped her hand from next to her.

"Oh, sorry, yeah I get that..." Y/N sighed.

"Come on, where's that smile gone?" Hyunjin cooed, tickling her sides and successfully making her laugh.

"We really like you Y/N, and we were hoping you'd want to be a part of our relationship too," Chan crouched down in front of her.

"You sure?" Y/N was wary. This wasn't a trick right?

"Never been more sure of anything in our lives," he was quick to squash her worries, kissing her on the cheek.

"Then, yes, I'd love to be with you all," Y/N grinned that gorgeous smile that they loved so much.

It was the best decision she could have made agreeing to be Felix's tutor. It brought so many people into her life that she already held dearly to her heart, people she knew she'd come to love even more in her life. The little things they did for her with more care than anyone else had ever paid her attention to. They gave her the love she deserved, the love that she'd never lose.

taglist: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami

[demontonic]

Ethan Landry - Perverted 2

I know it took me forever to finish this but its finally here! Read part 1 if have you havent already! This is it though i dont think ill be making a part three but heres my masterlist if you want more from me

word count: 3990

tw: blood, fighting, knife play, alcohol, dacryphilia, ethan is plowing through you idk what else to say

A month, one whole month and you had yet to tell anyone of what you saw. It was nearing halloween, more people started buying ghostface costumes unbeknownst- or rather in their own ignorance- the victims of woodsboro were amongst them. The uprising of the ghoulish mask had the group on edge, that being the original five as the others didn’t even flinch at the sight. Ethan had been getting closer and closer to you, going so far as sneaking into your room while you were awake, asleep, studying, showering. In a way you were flattered, amused by his boyish antics but there were times you had realizations that he was- no is a killer. At first the noise of your window sliding open followed by footsteps had you reaching for your knife, or any object you could defend yourself with. Now when you hear it, sometimes you don’t even acknowledge him until he speaks, questioning your behavior, lack of honesty, or even your mood.

At some point you convinced yourself he was trying to collect more information on you. Typically you could gather a lot from social media, or just being friends but you had avoided him so much, now was his time to get to know you. He told himself every time you crossed his mind it was purely for the end goal, but he knew you were twisted. He could tell by the way you never told anyone, or how you would react to him creeping through your window. There were times where he would leave, and wait on the fire escape until you fell asleep to go back in and just lay next to you, imagining a domestic life where he didn’t have a bloodlust. A life where he didn’t meet you the way he did, a sweet fairytale story to tell your future kids. He’d make sure he was a better father, never picking favorites and raising them right. You being his stay at home wife, going out everyday to provide for his family that he would love. Coming home at night and sleeping next to this beautiful being that he felt so normal around, but he would always have to leave and dream of waking up next to you.

Today was no different, you’d wake up, go to your classes, have lunch with the group, and then go home- or so you thought. Today had been slightly different, the entire university buzzing with comments about a halloween party. Like normal you had assumed you were going to stay home as you did for most parties and events. In your Literature course Ethan had decided to sit next to you, whispering a little too close to your ear about the party. He wanted you to go with him, and the group of course but he talked about you dressing as a princess as he would be a makeshift knight. Your face burned at the suggestion of corresponding outfits but you declined saying you most likely wouldn’t show. You noticed the immediate change in his demeanor, something that you had seen multiple times. He could be sweet, quiet, soft, well spoken, or he could be harsh, sharp tongued, quick witted, and stern. It was a real Jekyll and Hyde situation, at first it was frightening but now it was just a matter of knowing how to combat his remarks.

“You will look best in a burgundy dress, the color against your skin will be absolutely stunning” his breath fanned against your ear, voice dropping to the one you assumed he used when he made the calls. Ethan’s voice was as strong as the gaze he held, you felt it linger as the warmth of his body left yours. It almost made you shiver, almost refusing to meet his dark eyes knowing you’d be met with the void that accompanied this version of him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” you dropped your pen on the dark wooden desk before averting your eyes to his. First they held that dark void that came with the demeanor, but a few seconds after they went back to warm doe eyes you had first become infatuated with. The ones that stared at you from the floor of your room when you were half asleep finishing schoolwork. A sigh left his chest, almost unnoticeable if you hadn’t known his body language inside and out.

“It’s rude not to… please come to the party tonight it’s gonna be fun,” a crooked smile found its way onto his lips, his teeth peeking out slightly. You looked back towards the professor trying to fill the blanks from where you had stopped taking notes. “I’ll think about it Ethan, I wouldn’t even be able to get a dress such short notice- I don’t even like frat parties to begin with-“

“Stop whining and try to have fun, I don’t like crowds but it’s gonna be a one time thing,” he assured you as he stared at your hand scribble on the paper. Ethan always found himself tuning out to the sound of your pen writing on paper, the smell of your perfume, shampoo, chapstick. He even became accustomed to the tinge of weed under the coconut and vanilla body spray you favored, it was your scent, every product you used. The candles you lit, the oils you put in your diffuser, even your favorite drinks like vanilla frappuccino with coconut milk, or coconut water, vanilla milkshakes- he almost had a whole journal just for you.

“I said I’ll think abou-“

“Please”

Pleading? Asking? Begging? No, it was a demand disguised as a question to make it seem like you had a choice. Did you? Of course, you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions. No matter how he looked at you with those pretty brown eyes you stood your ground.

“I will think about it”. Alarms buzzed around the room signaling the end of this afternoon class, luckily it was your last class today. You quickly shoved your materials into your bag before weaving through the crowd of students, surely losing Ethan in the process. He was a stubborn little shit sometimes as you’ve come to notice, it made you feel special. With others he was a pushover, too scared to say no and always just doing what he was told. With you he felt comfortable voicing his opinions, speaking his mind, you were far past him whispering empty threats into your ear late at night. Now you talked about what he would be doing if he wasn’t doing the whole ghostface shitshow, if he hadn’t followed the ways of his father whom he’d yet to reveal. Some nights he asked about you, your childhood, aspirations, fantasies and then sometimes you would try to talk him out of following through. He’d always laugh and tease you about trying to be his savior, and falling in love with him but maybe it was he who’d fallen for you. Through the fog and the rain, you’d sparked a lantern within him, if he’d follow was still a decision he’d yet to make.

Arriving at your shared apartment the girls sat in the kitchen talking about the party. Sam had been long gone as she went to work, Quinn helped Tara figure out the pirate-esque outfit she was to wear. It was odd however, the redhead pulled a tight lipped smile with a slight tilt of the head before Tara fully turned to you. The smaller girl ran to capture your abdomen in a hug and then jumped in front of you excitedly.

“You didn’t tell us you and Ethan had gotten somewhere!” She practically vibrated in place, waiting for you to spill some details with eager eyes. Quinn had sat down, watching the exchange with her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“That dork actually had the balls to ask for some help,” she said in a gruff voice, you assumed she was tired from her classes although it felt entirely wrong. Jealousy couldn’t be it. She had plenty of guys basically at their knees for a chance with her. “Help? With what exactly I don’t under-“

“The par- Oh my gosh! Did he not ask you yet? Were we supposed to wait?”

“He asked me to the party Tara don’t worry, I just said I’d think about it- BESIDES I don’t have anything close to what he wants me to wear… Where are you going?” You placed a hand on your hip, eyes following the small brunette as she pulled a bag up from the couch.

“Oh no”

“Oh yes”

“No”

“Ohhh yes!”

It was 6pm, time had blurred together as Tara was busying herself with getting you ready. You both decided it would be the easier route to straighten your hair, and to go with a simple eyeliner and mascara than a full caked face. On the daily you made the effort to apply mascara and eyeliner but Tara suggested a pop of color to which you reluctantly agreed. You knew once you got there you’d be splurging in the variety of alcohol they undoubtedly had so opted for a matte red lipstick. Within that time you had discovered Ethan had been in cahoots with Tara and Quinn for the past two weeks in order to have your ‘costume’ ready. The whole thing made you feel wrong, like you were being pampered for him, after all this was his money you were wearing. A part of you however felt like a high school girl getting ready for her first date, maybe over time you had grown a deeper passion for him. You spent more time together than you had even stopped to realize before. Besides that you hadn’t minded him sneaking into your room almost every night like some forbidden love. It was forbidden in all reality, it was wrong, sick, insane, but the sweet boy had weaseled his way into your heart. So as you sat here sitting in front of your mirror, spraying some perfume and patting down your hair, a smile made its way onto your face.

You held open the door for Tara, Quinn opting to stay home with her latest catch, you two started walking to the frat house. The cool air against your body helped as your heart was beating so fast you thought you’d pass out. All dolled up for a man that was burdened with sins you didn’t even remember at this point because all you could think about was not making a fool of yourself. Walking into the party was a hard task, you were already irritated from the pushing and shoving you made a beeline for the hard liquor. Tara had gone for something lighter and assured you it was okay to split up since Mindy and Anika would be with her. Chad had texted you once Tara told him you had made it, so after you had a cup of malibu with a drop of pineapple juice you started to make your way to the boys. By the time you got there half your cup was empty, in all honesty without it you’d be a shaking mess. Chad had grabbed you before you could confront the bitch you had jabbed her heel onto your foot. He always knew you were hotheaded, never scared to scrap with a random chick for fucking with you so he had to be your voice of reason.

“You just got here, try not to get kicked out so soon,” he joked as he walked you over to the doorway they’d stationed at. “Besides, lover boy has been waiting so patiently for you,” he whispered in your ear, playing it off like he was looking behind you. Ethan stood there in his nerdy cardboard costume, a bucket shaped ‘helmet’ on his head paired with a crooked smile. His eyes however held something mischievous, you hadn’t noticed until Ethan put a hand firmly on your waist that Chad left you two alone.

“I was starting to worry that you stood me up, especially after I bought this for you. I hope you can forgive me for taking things into my own hands, I wanted to spend at least one normal night with you.” Ethan spoke next to your ear over the loud music, it was almost too intimidating for you. One hand was on your waist, and the other loosely holding your wrist like he was scared you’d leave him. You laughed nervously before downing what was left in your cup, setting it down on the nearest table.

“It would’ve been rude to reject your gifts, besides it wouldn’t hurt to go out every now and then.” You placed your hands on his forearms, trying to hold your composure as everything felt so overwhelming. His eyes were sharp, like he was trying to read your expressions as if they were hard to decipher. Both of you were still in each other's presence like you were basking in the meld of your auras. For a moment it felt comforting like there would be no consequences and maybe it was the full cup of alcohol or the scenery but you want nothing more than to feel his plump lips against your skin. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for a red headed bitch completely inserting herself into your short conversation.

“Oh my god Ethan Landry with the basket case, what a match made in hell. Two losers made for each other, how disgusting!” Audrey, you knew her name purely because she had been a lowlife that thought too highly of herself. She had tried to get Ethan to be her lap dog in a few classes, always batting her eyes trying to get him to do her essays. He never went for it, he wasn’t some stupid jerk off dying to hump her leg like most of the male population on campus. You had been itching to ring her by that orange hair of hers, especially now.

“Oh get over yourself, you’re just a ran through whore clinging to whoever you think you can push around. Honestly it’s a bit sad how all you have now is some fake tits your daddy bought and loose pussy.” To say you shocked yourself would be an overstatement, but you didn’t expect all of it to come out so easily. Hell even Ethan looked at you as you practically ended her college reputation. The surrounding people catching on slightly to the tension turned the music down so they could tune in.

“I think you’re just mad because you’re a sad pothead with no future.”

“I think you’re just mad because you couldn’t get Ethan to do your work because the fumes from your hair dye killed your brain cells.”

“I’m a natural redhead!”

“Okay fire crotch watch how you talk to me before I check your attitude.”

“You won’t do shit you suicidal bi-“

The whole room gasped, the air felt too hot for you, you almost didn’t feel the impact on your knuckles. Ethan tried to hold onto you but you tore away from his grasp too quickly and before he knew it you had punched Audrey. For a moment you thought you drew blood, but you quickly realized it was the fake blood from her half assed vampire costume. She tried to get back at you but she tripped over her hooker heels and practically fell onto you. Of course you shoved her back onto the floor, everyone laughed at her pathetic attempt at a comeback.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, you should take a nap baby.” You laughed as you watched her slowly rise from the wood flooring. Tears streamed down her face as her head hung down, too embarrassed to face the crowd.

“You’ll pay for this you bitch.”

“Oh boo, you whore!” She walked out of the room, the music quickly returning to its eardrum shattering volume. Ethan was leaning against the door frame by the time you made your way back to him. He had his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched you walk back, his hands quickly resting on your hips.

“I’m not saying you didn’t scare me a little but… that was kinda hot.” Thank the higher beings for the colorful lights, your face was so red from both the heat and Ethan. Your chest swelled with pride as the serial killer applauded you for taking a swing at that stuck up bitch.

“Someone had to do it eventually, so will you come downstairs with me for a drink?” You pulled on his ‘chest plate’ as he nodded, following closely behind you. After a few shots and strong drinks Ethan had convinced you it was time to leave before you ‘got into any more trouble’. You weren’t hammered but not sober either, so of course he walked you to your apartment.

“How fun I get to walk through your front door this time,” alluding to all the times he’d climb through your window.

“No one ever said you couldn’t, I think the girls would’ve actually gotten a kick out of it.” You smiled as you walked through the door, already going towards your room. However before you opened it you realized Ethan had stopped following you. Instead he leaned onto the wall before your door, looking at you expectantly.

“Don’t act shy now Eth, you’ve been here how many times?”

“I told you I wanted one normal night.”

“Well if you ask me I think I preferred you just coming in through my window, no invitation required.” Again, his demeanor changed as his tall frame straightened and walked towards you. A small tilt of his head and then suddenly he was kissing you, it was rough, demanding, dominant. One of his arms wrapped around your waist before he reached behind you and opened your door. You stumbled back as he slammed it shut, locking it too before resuming the sloppy kiss. He walked you backwards towards your bed, lifting you easily by the hips and tossing you down softly. The diadem on your head was pulled off and placed on your side table, his helmet had been long gone, laying somewhere on your floor. He quickly pulled his chest piece off and threw it somewhere, shocking you in the process as his abs peeked from under the long sleeved shirt he wore under it.

“So you like the psycho killer version of me better than an econ geek?” His question sounded breathless, both of your faces flushed as he knelt between your legs. You dress barely stopping at your upper thighs, his hair messy and tangled from your hands.

“If I say yes, are you going to kill me mister ghostface?” You asked just as breathless as he was, a smirk plastered on your lips as you watched his expression mirror yours. You almost miss it, his god-like features distracting you as he pulls out a knife, pressing the tip to your throat.

“Of course not baby, I’d never hurt you, I’m just trying to figure out what you’re into.”

“Well this is kinda doing it for me if that helps.” He smiled before trailing the blade all the way down between your thighs, severing the straps of your panties. He didn’t pull the fabric off, not yet anyways, instead pulled his shirt off before leaving dark hickeys all over your neck and collar bones. Your fingers tangled in the mess of curls as he made his way across your exposed skin. Quiet sighs leave your chest as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your body. His hips began to grind against you, the rough feel of his jeans caused you to shiver under his herculean body.

You don’t know how much time had passed, but the rest of your clothing had been tossed to the floor. Ethan's face was settled between your thighs as you neared your third orgasm. He was fucking you with his tongue as his thumb stayed on your clit, harshly overstimulating you. Your thighs couldn’t even squeeze around his head at this point, they rested on his strong shoulders, shaking and trembling. Tears were welling up in your eyes as your back arched off the bed again, crying out his name as you came on his face. He sat up, crawling closer to you as you trembled underneath him. All he did was smile softly, his canines poking against his lower lip. Your eyeliner had run down your cheeks, your hair tangled and frizzy.

“You look so pretty crying, shaking, and begging. I should’ve been fucking you like this every night for the past month.” As he spoke he traced your face lightly with the tip of his knife, his cock slick with precum as he rubbed it against your clit. Your legs shook with every move he made, you were far beyond overstimulated; this was insanity. You weren’t even sure if you were forming proper words as he began to slide his thick cock into your sensitive cunt. Your nails scratched at his v-line, no doubt drawing blood from his pale skin as he bottomed out. He hissed as he quickly drug his blade across the top of one of your hands. It was a small thin slice barely even bleeding, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t watched him do it. Anyone would’ve pulled their hand away but it just made you dig your nails deep into his hips. He tossed the knife onto the floor and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against your chest as he began to rock slowly in and out of you. Your head dropped back on your pillow as your mouth opened in a silent whine. His lips held a smirk as his pace sped up, head dipping down to your neck as quiet whimpers left his throat. You started crying as you felt another orgasm building from his rough pace, you bit down on his shoulder since your dry throat could barely let your moans out. He groaned at your action and seemingly went faster, you pleaded against his hot skin but he only kept on. Once his hands left your wrists to hold your thighs apart, your nails clawed down his back. The moans coming from him sounded so heavenly, almost pathetic despite him having full control.

He pulled back from you, fully sitting up but his brutal rhythm was unforgiving. He held your hips off the bed as he plowed into your throbbing cunt. Finally a stutter in his pace as he neared his orgasm. He groaned, his head falling back as his thrusts became sporadic causing your body to move upwards on the bed. Your hands braced against the wall as he lost himself in the build of his climax. You cried out into the dim room, your pussy clenching around him as you came. He fucked you until you were squirming under him again, he pulled out and came onto your stomach moaning your name lowly. Ethan stilled for a moment, until finally his hands dropped your thighs and he laid next to you. He pulled your leg onto his waist, pulling you against him as you both tried to catch your breath. Your hand rested on his waist and your head on his chest, it was finally calm again.

The next morning when both of you woke up, you walked into the living room to find the entire group. When they noticed you two together it was like they snapped out of a daze. They joked about how it took way too long for either of you to make the first move. It didn’t take long however for the dread to settle back in as the news reporter spoke of two college students being murdered last night.

@hana-1235

@i-do-be-vibinn

@meh-karma

@cumbermovels

@acornacreacure

@c0untryclub

[sophieinwonderland]

Debunking Sysmed Misinformation

Yes dear, people who aren't saying they have a disorder, by definition, cannot be faking that disorder. If you truly believe that somebody who not only doesn't have a disorder, but vehemently denies having it, is faking that disorder... I'm sorry to say that you've been brainwashed. There's truly no other explanations for still clinging to the narrative that people who deny having mental disorders are faking them.

According to who? Where the source for this?

In reality, "system" is a pretty broad term with a lot of different uses in psychology, rooted in systems theory.

There are two ways to approach discussions of the word system. One as a community term. And one as a psychological term. First...

As a community term

Back in the 90s and earlier, it was assumed that anybody with multiple personalities were disordered. It was treated as if the experience of multiplicity was itself something that people needed healed from.

The early online community arose from this environment, many taking the presumption of a disorder at face value.

However, from these online communities arose the Natural Multiplicity community, which believed their multiplicity wasn't caused by environmental factors like trauma, but that they were just... naturally multiple.

The reason some early terms from older MPD literature ended up shared was because the natural multiples branched off from this older MPD community in the 90s.

I've mentioned this before, but the Natural Multiples were not outside invaders. They were separatists who originally falsely believed they had a disorder, some of which were even diagnosed and rejected that diagnosis. Some terms that originated in DID literature naturally carried over.

As a psychological term

If we were to look at its earliest uses in relation to DID, this definition probably wouldn't apply.

See, to the point that system was used by psychologists in relation to DID, it usually referred to an internal personality system within the brain. The "individual" wasn't the system. The individual had a system.

It's a small but important distinction.

The individual to psychologists is everything. It's the body. The motor functions. The subconscious. The things that aren't controlled by any alter at all.

The psychological term isn't the same as the community definition.

Within psychology, this language isn't unique to CDDs either. I mentioned systems psychology earlier, but the closer parallel would be Internal Family Systems therapy, which is based on the premise that everyone is a system of parts and that the mind is naturally multiple.

IFS is a transformative tool that conceives of every human being as a system of protective and wounded inner parts led by a core Self. We believe the mind is naturally multiple and that is a good thing. Just like members of a family, inner parts are forced from their valuable states into extreme roles within us. Self is in everyone. It can’t be damaged. It knows how to heal. 

This dates back to the 80s before the natural mutiple community formed.

Moreover, studies that have addressed non-disordered systems have called them systems, such as this one from 2017.

Additionally, psychologists have also referred to tulpa systems as being... tulpa systems. Here is Dr. Michael Lifshitz, a psychiatry professor at McGill University, discussing is study into tulpa systems in an AMA.

So in psychology, it seems that "system" is going to be a shared term going forward, with doctors using the term to refer to any plural regardless of disorder or origin.

Which makes sense, because aside from being what the community uses for themselves, any human brain with multiple self-conscious agents is going to technically be a system through the lens of system thinking.

Back to the anti-endo post!

I'm not going to deal with this too much. Mostly because it's not really in contention that much. Most non-disordered plurals will use "headmates," and similar terms instead. Alter is generally considered too clinical.

But I will say that it's funny how every time I see "alter" defined, it's always slightly different. Like, nobody seems to know where this came from, nobody has the primary source for the term's coining, and nobody quite agrees on what it actually was short for.

Wouldn't... the individual be exactly one? Like, the idea is that the brain makes different parts that are all part of one collective whole personality.

I don't quite agree with this take. But if we were to believe it, then surely the "less than one" statement cannot be mathematically true. If you cut a cake into slices, you still have one cake. You don't have less than one pie.

Also, where are they usually referred to as "multiple personalities?" Because that isn't true in the modern DID community. And it sure isn't true in academic literature written in the past 20 years.

LOL!

So now we're referring to the dictionary definition of a word. Without an ounce of self-awareness when you ignore that "system" is a common word with a lot of different applications. 🙄

Not even surprised at the hypocrisy.

Also not surprised that the OP is lying about the origins of "plurality" by non-disordered systems. And I can say confidently that OP is lying because Cambrian already tried correcting them in a reblog, and was blocked.

Which means this isn't merely accidentally spreading misinformation anymore. It's intentionally lying to hurt others. They know they're wrong and don't care.

For those who aren't aware, the term was not, in fact, popularized by Tumblr. See this page from at least as far back as 1998.

We don't claim that every multiple system/household is a happy loving cooperative one. What we do question is the *identification* of "real multiples" with the characteristics or symptoms of a psychological disorder. We go further: we question by what right or authority doctors and therapists are given sole jurisdiction over the definition of "an individual".

This is one reason our clan encourages use of the word "plural" rather than "multiple". "Multiple", even standing by itself, brings to mind MPD/DID, "multiple personality disorder", "dissociative identity disorder", which are specific diagnoses created by the medical/therapeutic community. "Plural" is a much more neutral word, more commonly heard in the context of grammar than psychiatry. (The other reason, of course, is that plural can be construed to have a broader meaning, applying to anyone(s) anywhere on the continuum who experience themselves as plural in some way. )

Aside from the timeline being way off, from the very beginning, the systems who popularized the word plural were non-disordered systems, and it was done intentionally to separate it from medicalized language like "multiple".

Also, the current definition of plural as an inclusive term has found its way into academic papers, such as Transgender Mental Health by Dr. Eric Yarbrough.

Which has been reviewed and publish by the American Psychiatric Association.

If you mean CDD spaces, nobody without CDDs are going into those spaces to invade them. This isn't a real thing that happens.

If you mean using the word "system" and similar, I'm sorry to tell you that this has been a share communal term since before you were born. And it's not changing.

Because you're the one who is coming into our spaces. You're the one coming into inclusive spaces and spreading hate. You have been repeatedly informed that the plural tags are inclusive, that "plural" is an inclusive label, and that system medicalists aren't welcome there.

You're the one who has been invading spaces.

Your trauma isn't my problem. The harm you're causing to good people is.

I'm not sure if "your workplace might discriminate against you if you're publicly plural" is the slam dunk argument you think it is!

I mean, like, do you think your workplace would be cool with what you post on your blog?

Have you come out as a system at your workplace and told everyone about your 8 My Little Pony fictives?

(Fictive is a word coined by endogenic plurals, by the way, since you care so much about terminology. 🙄)

Remember, if you don't want a kid to be a system, don't start traumatizing them until after their eighth birthday! /s

But really, it's always weird how people have these very firm sort of cutoffs and present them as objective fact, when that's not how the brain has ever worked.

And if you look at academic papers, one thing you notice is that they have a really hard time agreeing about the so-called cutoff. Different papers will say it's 5, 6, 8, 9 or 10. And even if they did agree, that should only apply to DID. It would be a mistake to assume the cutoff applies to other forms of CDDs like OSDD-1 and Partial DID without extensive research into them.

"Being a system" is a disorder now?

Can you show me where "being a system" is in the ICD-11 or the DSM-5?

Tell me... do you HONESTLY believe that?

As I've already shown, the non-disordered and non-traumagenic community has existed since before you were born.

In that time, it's only been growing. Studies and papers focusing on non-disordered systems have only really begun over the last decade. Research has ballooned, with Stanford University investing tens of thousands of dollars into an fMRI study of tulpamancers that is likely to be published soon.

There are countless pro-endo discord servers. System-related apps like Pluralkit and Simply Plural have been explicitly pro-endo. Major figures like Aimkid have come out as being pro-endo systems.

I figure it's only a matter of time before the topic is explored more explicitly on television. (Other than that one time Chicago Med did a tulpamancy episode.)

You say being endogenic is a trend. People have been saying the same thing about being transgender for the past 20 years. Parents of LGBTQ kids have said their kids were just going through a phase, only for those kids to grow into queer adults. Their predictions haven't proven true.

I see no reason to think you'll be right this time.

What I say is that the future is plural and pro-endo.

I think this is what all the current trends point to. The academic support. The increasing plural resources and awareness.

We are not going away.

We are not just a trend.

We are the future!

[crimsonender]

Do you have any advice for improving media literacy or analysis?

I have a few!

Read. A lot.

Think about what you're reading. if you have struggles with this and aren't sure what to think about, try to read some classic lit that has academic worksheets that prompt you questions about each chapter as you read them.

Be okay with being wrong.

Read analysis from multiple different sources.

Reread things you have made assumptions about in the past with an open mind.

When it comes to non-fiction try to read primary sources along with journalistic articles.

If this is something that really matters to you consider going to post secondary school. If that's not an option consider some of the open courses various institutes offer, like MIT's Open Coursework.

Stop letting individuals that speak with an authorative voice tell you what to think.

Assume goodwill most of the time.

don't just read a work in an vacuum. especially if it was written in a different time period and geopolitical context, research that time and place and political climate to get a better understanding of what you're reading.

... Seriously consider going to University or college. It doesn't even have to be for literature or language related studies. It does help. That's why people with university degrees put all those letters after their name, because it shows they've put a lot of work in and are trustworthy, and often know what they're talking about.

[nadiajustbe]

I know people in HMC books speak English so there's not gonna be any kind of miscommunication between the characters, but sometimes I think about how it would be way more funny If there was some language diversity.

Howell Jenkins falls into the portal to an absolutely unknown, magical realm and... everyone speaks English. He was rather happy about it, finding it funny: it's a new, fantasy, fairy-tale based world with dragons and spells and seven-league boots and magic, and yet its habitants English. What are the odds?

However, it does not takes him long to realise (much to his own frustration) that, even though all of the locals native language is, in fact, English, it is pretty different from the English Howell himself is familiar with. He cant understand it quite well at fist, but it sounded like an odd mix of a modern language, specific dialects and an old tongue people was using around Victorian England/Middle Ages. It has so many words and unusual forms (Howell even called them "slang" once in a while), that it takes him a while to fully get every term and subtexts ms. Pentstemmon was referring to.

Their languages were similar just enough to catch the full sense of the sentence, but not enough to undertand all the little details, not cultural nor linguistic. It would even worst If he wasn't a big fun of Shakespeare and old Arthurian Legends growing up, letting alone studying old English (and old Welsh) at the university.

The language also differs from the area. Michael, for example, uses so many words you can hear in Porthaven only, regarding it's unique aspects. Sophie uses a lot of Market Chipping proverbs, and even more old terms connected with hats. The language he heard the King using wheh he got his first chance to met him at the time of his apprenticeship was so long, confusing and vivid, as If it was taken straight out of old English Literature books. And yet, English.

To this day Howell — at this point long-knowing as Howl Pendragon — finds himself confusing new terms, forms of words, proverbs and sayings. Maybe, he thinks, you have to be truly born there to understand all of - although he did better than anyone else would. Sophie seems to catching up just well.

—

Abdullah ends up with a flying carpet and the magical genie, exited to give away his fist wish to find the love of his love... only to not understand a word of what the genie is saying. This is how, instead of searching for Flower-In-The-Night, he now searching through a whole Zanzib for a proper translator from English because, here's the problem, If he can't understand the genie, then genie can't understand him, and If genie can't understand him, it's pointless to even try making a wish. He knows it's English: there's plenty people all around the world visiting the market, and he had even learnt certain words, important for making a trade, but that's not nearly close to a full sentence on unrelated topic.

With a great effort and after hours of searching for a really proffecional master of languages (who charges Abdullah nearly all of his money for one single session), he finally gets to the point. Except, here's another moment. That's where Abdullah finds out the wish has to be spoken from his heart and not through the other person. Here comes another catch — Ingarian English, no matter how simple or structured is, to put is simply, badly different from Rapshutian Arabic. It's not even the same language group!

So, he sits in the small, hot room near the glamorous bottle and tries to pronounce a bunch of difficult, complex words written on a paper, the kind that translator couldn't cut or simplify to ones he's familiar with, for a whole ten (to fifteen) minutes. And, as If trying to make his task as difficult as possible, genie, when he shows up, starts randomly breaking into the language translator can't even recognise, with no talk about understanding. Abdullah assumes it may be a secret genie language only this creatures know and, annoyingly, gets along with it.

After successfully wishing to understand (and use) English, he also finds out he can't wish for anything more language-related, and he shouldn't even bother himself trying to ask for a foolish things like an ability to speak every language in the world. Language is a big part of human's essence and otherwise shouldn't be messing with, just as magic focusing on it is strictly limited.

Using this fact, the genie also finds a loophole - from now on he speaks his secret genie language half of the time, stopping only when it comes to important tasks, because Abdullah "wished to know only one of his languages" and he, apparently, knows more.

This whole puzzle takes new turns, when, while traveling with the carpet, Abdullah meets the solider. Despite claiming being from Strangia, this strange man from the forest starts speaking with them in English in first and then, noticing they're from different country, easily switches to Arabic.

As they wander together, the soliders explains that he is non less confused than they are: he didn't even noticed he could speak English before the passer-byes from Ingary noticed him, and now, being with genie and Abdullah, he also remembered he knows Arabic. He adds that he can't recall anything before his duty in the army, where he definitely used Stangian and nothing else, but it feels like an strong knowledge he has, even If he doesn't remember learning any of this. He decides to wave it off, focusing on the cats and schemes.

The solider becomes a great translator for them along the journey, up to the day the got the inn. He does not understand the secret genie language, though. Especially when from the jinnies and angels they found out there's, in fact, no such a thing as a "genie language"

The story finally clears itself when Midnight and Whippersnapper turn into humans, the Solider turns into a bewitched Prince and the Royal Wizard surprisingly seems to recognize all of the words the genie was — and still is — using.

—

Charmain runs after Sophie with a long, old dictionary she has found in the Great Uncle Norland's Library. The Royals, of course, gave their honored guest the translator, but the things quickly becomes pretty private, with the search for the gold and all this story with lubboks, so Sophie tells them she's gonna manage it by herself.

To say the Dictionary is heavy is to say nothing: it's huge and thick, containing thousands of words from Ingarian English alone, split by topics, marked with tons of colors an additional moments. Even carrying it around is a whole different type of task.

Half of the time Charmain and Sophie communicate with gestures, context clues and even sounds. When they need to say something really long and complex, they write, leaning on the Dictionary, as it's a bit faster than talking. Still, at some moments Charmain has to flip through the massive pages, searching for the right word with her finger, while Sophie has to do the same. Till the end of the day the both learn some basic words from each other's language, which makes it easier.

The poor nanny has even harder times with Twinkle and Morgan, because she has no idea about what they actually want, except they both whining and crying, one louder than another.

Translator does not come in handy that much, as it looks like these children mix languages everytime when speaking to each other. She has to guess things all over the room to finally get what they need, and usually it's the most useless things ever, like striped pants and a bunch of toy horses falling from the sky.

They see Sophie and Twinkle arguing about something, but no one gets the topic of their screaming, let alone the reason why Sophie is so mad at this angelic child. Charmain asks Sophie about it, because she heard an unusual name along the lines of their quarrels, but Sophie looks too annoyed to explain, mumbling something in her native language with some sort of anger.

The only positive side of it all is that, If Chairman can't understand English, then the lubbocks can't either. Wich means that they didn't have to be as cautious when using Dictionary as they would have to If they understood each other perfectly.

Then she has to climb on the roof, where Twinkle is sitting. Charmain tries to dismiss all his attempts to start a dialogue till she's there, huffing and suffocating as she tries to get the Dictionary with her, trying not to fall.

Twinkle seems to be really proud of himself, saying he knows twice more languages that anyone else in this magical House. Charmain flips through the pages, asking either one of is the one she knows (Norlandian, I assume).

Twinkle says no. For a second Charmaine starts to really understand Sophie's feeling, fighting the urge to hit him on the head with this massive book.

Peter does not communicate with this new guest as much and, luckily, he knows the language Charmain speaks, so they don't have to struggle with a language barrier. The way speaks might be a bit different because of the area he grew up and the amount of hiding and spells he encountered, but there's nothing they can't handle. Luckily.

Calcifer knows the Saucepan song, but other than that his linguistic knowledge is far from perfect, certainly not as good as you'd expect from a fire demon. He also cannot use a Dictionary, because it will burn the second he'll come to close to it, and If this happens their main way of communication is basically gone. He makes up for it, talking with Twinkle, Morgan and Sophie, as well as being expressive enough to understand the basics or what he feels and plans. Sometimes someone (aka Sophie) has to translate what he is saying when she's near, wich is a bit longer than Charmain would wish, but still pretty plausible. She got that he desperately needs his logs, after all.

Twinkle could have used some kind of magical bubble to get them finally understand each other fully, but, again, magic connected with languages is pretty difficult and has its important limits, so it wouldn't last long. Little 30 years old boy is enjoying his childhood, running up the stairs and beating these huge bugs, not as much caring about Charmain all this huge book in her hands.

In the end, (as he turnds out to be) the Royal Wizard Howl is right - the only languages lubbocks can understand is punching.

(Many thanks to my rly good friend @your-queen-shuri for being co-author of this concept. A bunch of ideas here are from her!)

[ultfreakme]

Thoughts on Jessie Gender's video on NATLA

I really admire Jessie Gender's videos usually, she's the one whom I usually go to to see videos on gender and queerness in media. I like her stuff a lot and respect their work.

But the NATLA video left me going "no, wait, that's not what happened" a lot. I can't summarize the video, I suggest people go watch it if they want to know but I disagree with practically everything for the most part.

I'm not anybody on the internet. But what I do have is a lifetime of growing up on ATLA, a degree in Sociology and English Literature, coming from a culture that ATLA is based on, studying about colonial rule, researching the cultures ATLA is based on in my spare time and a love for the original. Does that establish some legitimacy? If for some reason you feel like you need to go hate on Jessie for this, DON'T. DO NOT. This is me just critiquing because I think the video content was biased and I want to honestly engage with the points made because everyone has a tendency to demonize the adaption without looking at it on its own merit. With that said:

Point 1: Sokka's sexism is taken out to make the show more palatable and his arc in the Kyoshi Island episode undermines Suki to prop up Sokka.

She says that Sokka's sexism and him addressing it is a show-long arc, and him deconstructing that is him fighting against the colonial sexism of the Fire Nation.

Sokka's sexism is explicitly dealt with in one episode. He's shown to be overtly sexist in the first 4 and never again except for little comments here and there that every other character makes as well and goes unaddressed. His sexism is not because of the Fire Nation- FN is very inclusive of women as warriors. Sokka's sexism is an anomaly because no one but him cares that Katara isn't just sitting home mending clothes(Bato, Hakoda, none of the men on the ship they are on in S3 say a word and she takes off to join Aang in the Fire Nation islands).

If Sokka's sexism is not systematic to the Southern Water Tribe or caused by the Fire Nation, what kind of commentary on sexism is this?

She also says Suki is played down and demured to give Sokka confidence when she's teaching him, taking away her arc as she pines for the new boy who she likes because he's shirtless. Sokka's throughout the episode shows insecurity and a more subtle form of sexism where he's trying ton prove he's as good as her. He's trying to show off his strength to her, and failing miserably and when he realizes she bested him, he walks away. He goes into it assuming he's better than her but walks away realizing shit she is GOOD. Then he goes to her dojo to observe the practice and follows along, Suki invites him in seeing him fucking up the forms outside and teaches him.

Suki falls for a tackle Sokka does in the og and live action. In the OG, it's shown as Sokka ACTUALLY being better. In the live action? He isn't. One lesson doesn't make him better, she transitions from actually teaching him to kinda flirting until she completely stops. She's not weakening herself for him, both of them are expressing romantic interest. How did Sokka, a boy who that morning was defeated by them, get better than SUKI in a spar she put genuine effort in? I think that's frankly more sexist than the live action take.

Additionally, Suki was meant to be a one-off character meant to teach Sokka that sexism is bad. She existed entirely to serve Sokka's character arc and had no independent motivation in season 1. In the live action, we see her talk about wanting to go into the world, and see her growing motivation through Aang's presence of wanting to not just protect Kyoshi Island, but the world. She became what she is only in season 2 and 3. Sokka's sexism arc didn't even pan out well because he never addressed the issue with Katara after that episode, the first and most affected victim of his sexism.

Sokka wearing the armor in the original, is a joke. Aang calls their uniform a dress while laughing (it's not, like it's not even constructed like one, the bottoms are loose pants called Hakama). He isn't put into the uniform to show solidarity, it's a joke, and we are meant to be laughing at Sokka for the most part. Queer fans have reclaimed and redefined that scene to be like drag, but that wasn't the original intention of the show because we get jokes on Aang's masculinity which never actively get refuted from Toph in season 2. Katara of all people points out Sokka wearing a poinytail in a demeaning manner multiple times, a supposedly girly hairstyle. If the original wanted to honor Sokka embracing gender fluidity, they wouldn't consistently mock him for being choosy about buying a bag and wearing a ponytail(which in-universe has cultural importance to him).

All signs of 'femininity' in Sokka are played for laughs in the rest of the show(down to the scene where he draws a rainbow, and his master Piandao simply rolls his eyes).

Sokka is also never once shown as a better warrior in the live action- his story is the opposite. Sokka yearns here to be an engineer, a scientist tinkering away with new inventions. His father Hakoda and the SWT discourages this because there is no value in that for them. Value is shown for them to come from physical strength, which Sokka NEVER has in live action season 1(him having biceps and being shirtless is not a glorification of strength). He's good, but he's nothing special. His true highlight is in his intellect and the show implies pretty well that Sokka doesn't need to be physically strong or a warrior to fight back against oppression.

That's his defining line in the show teasers "you do not need to be a warrior, to be a hero."

Point 2: The sexism arc isn't replaced by anything more nuanced.

It is! It's replaced by the biases against bending. Sokka discourages Katara from bending because the Fire Nation attacked the SWT to eliminate waterbenders. Both Katara and Sokka hold fear for waterbending, a part of their own culture, specifically because of the Fire Nation's hegemony and hierarchical beliefs. Waterbending = preservation of culture and Katara says these exact words in episode 1. Sokka stopping her is him being under the colonial hegemony of the FN because waterbending is what brought Fire Nation soldiers to their shores to kill their mom. That's the new arc and it has follow through to the end. Instead of Sokka telling Katara to kick ass because he isn't sexist anymore, the live action Sokka says it because he's embraced waterbending and his own culture now through seeing Katara grow and letting her choose for herself what's best for her (instead of smothering in his faux warrior persona, which they literally discuss when stuck in the cave). This arc is exclusive to the show, there's no comment on the cultural significance and erasure of waterbending in the original.

It's made more explicit in Katara's arc, where she needs to get past the fear the Fire Nation has put in her of the dangers of her own bending, and embrace that her people wanted to protect it (Kya sacrificing herself, Gran-Gran hiding the waterbending scroll).

Point 3: Showing the genocide of the Air Nomads is disrespectful

In the original, the Air Nomads are nothing but a memory. At all times. We never see the influence of the Air Nomad culture on Aang, or see them alive and thriving at any point. We see them fight back on the live action, and the actual genocide is a few short minutes, interspersed with Aang sinking. It's not a lingering process and it shows the abilities of Air Nomads. Jessie says this is purely aesthetic and to be cool, but there are significant moments that happen here.

Establishing the powers of Air Benders- this is the first and last time we'll get to see Air Bending on this scale and this shows what they can do

There's a scene where two air nomads nod to one another, and the air nomad switches from defensive to an extremely offensive move. It shows that this isn't typical for the Air Nomads, and that they are being pushed to their limits

This is a festival, they were defending themselves and it's important to show that the Air Nomads didn't just go silently without a fight and were ambushed on an important day.

To show the Fire Nation's cruelty and the extent of their power during the comet specifically.

To give weight to WHY everyone Aang runs into is so critical and hateful of the fact that he was gone, and to also show why Aang never refutes them and the weight of what he's lost (and also that even if he were there, he couldn't have done anything)

It's not just to be cool, it's honestly not cool to watch and taking Gordon Cormier, a child's quote to say that's what everyone's impression is, is disingenuous despite the disclaimer given. The kids' quotes always get taken out of context. Reviewers and Avatar fans who went to the premiere were disturbed overall by the violence. They did not think of the Fire Nation as "cool", they saw the Air Nomads like that. Like don't we want people to think of the Air Nomads in a positive light for fighting back?

Their culture gets little to no expansion in the original, and whatever Aang has left of them is actually slowly stripped away in the original.

Aang is made to okay the destruction and modification of the Northern Air Temple when destruction is shown as wrong during his rage and grief in the Southern Air Temple. The new settlers have used the gliders of Air Nomads to device weapons that fly, which were then sold to the Fire Nation. The Mechanist and his people continue this and create more weapons to fight the war in the temples(albeit this time agaisnt the fire nation but the cycle of violence continues using devices and cultures of a peaceful people). A once-peaceful place, is now a center for war innovation and Aang is told to accept this because he must let go of the past to look to the future.

The above, in comparison to Aang simply saying "I should let go of the past and look to the future" is FAR more disrespectful of Aang's culture and past. The live action keeps Gyatso's memory a constant companion to Aang, he is terrified of letting go of the past and it hinders him from simply living.

Point 4: Violence is shown as good and the cycle of violence is perpetuated.

She says Kyoshi demanding Aang to fight back and hit hard is showing that Aang needs to embrace strength and power. That everyone telling him to fight and be alone means strength is given importance, and that the same is shown when Zuko says "sometimes the weak can become strong, sometime you just have to give them a chance."

Kyoshi is wrong. She is willfully portrayed as powerful, but harsh. Roku(though his screentime was small) disagrees with her and tells Aang to find his own way of fighting and that is ultimately what Aang follows.

Kyoshi doesn't come off as correct, she's demanding and harsh, unforgiving. Aang initially lets her take over because he is scared of the power he holds and she promises she can control it to help others. Aang doesn't want power(he literally says 'I don't want these powers'). In the finale, he gives in to the ocean spirit and does what Kyoshi asks; save everyone, even if it costs his own life. But it is shown as a tragedy. Katara calls back for him and tells him he shouldn't have to sacrifice himself, that he has a place in this world as he is no matter what others tell him and he listens to THAT. He says he will save the world not alone, but with his friends, in the memory of the Air Nomads to ensure it never happens again.

Physical strength is only a priority to Katara's character. Sokka doesn't fight in the end, he's begging Yue to not sacrifice herself and is protecting her. He's not some macho man. Aang is also not embracing power.

Zuko says that line not to show that he can grow stronger, but that people should get second chances. He's a hurt kid wishing his father had the compassion to let him grow. But he doesn't and Zuko walks away from it thinking physical strength and bending prowess is important, crushing his compassion. That line on a meta level isn't even about physical strength. It's about mental fortitude and character, and the strength to be compassionate.

Jet was mentioned as being portrayed as more wrong, but in the original he was ready to sink a village of innocents. in the live action he genuinely helped Katara with her waterbending and was justified in wanting to kill the mechanist(who collaborated with the fire nation) and King Bumi (who is neutral, incompetent and has let the Fire Nation run rampant in the city). He's more sympathetic here because he's doing it with a concrete reason, and he didn't even manipulate Katara the way he did in the original. She was genuinely charmed by him.

A big problem I had with Jessie's video was putting in clips from some right-wing channel between critique of NATLA....which....why? Huh? And these were used to say NATLA is leaning into fascist tendencies and smoothing out any critique of colonialism when it really isn't. I think NATLA is very explicitly saying the same message as the original. Not in the same way, but it is. The show actively engages audiences and the characters in discussions of cultural erasure and the problems of valuing power(the latter especially through Zuko and Azula).

There are million issues with the live action (Sokka's casting, ableism in Zuko's burn scar, the writing issues, pacing issues, the lack of screen time for Aang and focus on the Fire family). The ones Jessie Gender discussed though, are not it.

[gingermintpepper]

hi I love your tags so so much! they were so sweet and so interesting and creative and the whole Aphrodite type of beauty thing sounds really interesting do you have any articles and recommendations to read further into it??

-hogoflight

Hello my fine feathered (I am assuming possession of feathers if you are, indeed, capable of flight) @hogoflight! I'm always always happy to hear that people appreciate my frenzied rambling in the tags :D! I have a lot of articles and recommendations :D!! Ancient Greek notions of beauty and representations of it in their art and sculptures is a pretty well studied topic! There isn't any way for us now to know definitively what the beauty standard was (it varied widely from region to region and culture to culture after all) but here are a couple of my favourite reads about Aphrodite and what her representations tell us about idealised beauty!

Probably the most empirically extensive one I can list is Krönström's thesis which compares statues of Aphrodite and literary text referring to both the goddess and mortal women to determine physical ideals for women in five specific eras of Grecian antiquity. Including measurements of the statues there are many descriptions of Aphrodite as 'curvy' with a 'voluptuous figure' and with 'ample buttocks and bosom'.

"When the beauty traits are described in the texts, they are never extreme or anything that could not be found in normal people just that they are more beautiful in every aspect. Furthermore, the sculptures’ physical forms look healthy, they are tall and have distinct curves. Great examples of this are the Knida sculpture and de Milo (the Melian) sculpture."

Of course, these images are still idealised, and there was still a concept such as 'too fat' or 'too skinny' found in written records (and this thesis even includes analysis of pornographic writings and descriptions of the fashion and stylings of pubic hair of women from different regions!!) but from an interpretational standpoint? There is absolutely no reason why these can't refer to a fuller figure. Height was also a very important factor after all and over the course of many eras, it seems like being well proportioned in addition to the length and appearance of one's hair were the most important factors (and, like Apollo, greater beauty was given to those with curlier hair)

Mireille M. Lee's 'Other Ways of Seeing' essay which talks about the forgotten female viewers of Knidian Aphrodite which is also extremely illuminating on how Aphroditic sexuality and sensuality was perceived totally differently from the well documented male voyeuristic gaze (which was overly preoccupied with the statue's nakedness and therefore over-sensationalised the statue's physical appearance) vs women's perspective on the statue which is more centered on the beauty of simplicity in Aphrodite's garment and decoration and in her power and ability to captivate both in her finery and without it. I think it's especially useful in exploring the importance of finery, jewellry and adornment in representations of Aphroditic beauty.

"Some of the small-scale copies are heavily jeweled, especially those from the eastern Mediterranean, for example the Hellenistic gilded terracotta statuette in the Çanakkale Museum (Fig. 5) in which the goddess wears, in addition to the armband on her (right) arm, the following: a necklace with multiple pendants; cross-bands extending over both shoulders and hips, with a cascading pendant in the center; a coiled snake armband on the left arm and another snake on her left thigh, and a twisted anklet on her right leg. (The left leg has been restored, and might also have featured an anklet.)"

"Jewelry is especially associated with Aphrodite in Greek literature. As seen above, in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, the goddess adorns herself with gold jewelry, dress-pins, and earrings in the shape of flowers (162–3)..."

Finally, and to me, the most important one in the argument for an interpretation of Hyacinthus as fat, beautiful and fundamentally Aphroditic comes from Brilmayer's brilliant brilliant thesis done on Aphrodite's work and influence in Archaic Greek Poetry which does away with all of that masculine preoccupation with physical proportion, measurement and bodily ideals for a focus on a Sapphic Aphroditic ideal centered in clothing, ornamentation and, most importantly cunning as symbols of Aphrodite and ultimately a feminine idealised form of beauty. This paper also discusses Pandora and Helen in these terms and it is just kind of a wonderful read tbh.

"Combining Homeric and Hesiodic elements with her own ideas, she [Sappho] alters the way female beauty is viewed. For example, the Homeric war chariot – a symbol of male, military prowess - comes to symbolise the totality of Aphrodite’s power uniting in itself male and female qualities. Having addressed the concept of beauty directly, Sappho then concludes that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. With the help of Helen of Troy and her beloved Anaktoria, Sappho sets out to reinvent the concept of female beauty as a godlike, subjective quality that may be expressed in many ways, yet remains inspired by Aphrodite."

The conclusion to all of this of course is that Aphroditic ideal beauty is much more fluid compared to its stricter Apolline masculine standard. The nuances and understandings of both are of course, constantly being studied, analysed and scrutinised but really, if Dionysus who was both bearded and clean shorn, effeminate, birthed and rebirthed (and twice gestated!) and strongly associated with vegetation can be popularly portrayed as fat and handsome, why can't Hyacinthus?!

[thatfrenchacademic]

Justice as spectacle in Fontaine, or a too long word vomit from a tired PhD in Law gushing over Genshin 4.0

Alternative title: “Justice must be seen to be done”, a visual playbook by Genshin 4.0

Intro: This is a valid use of a PhD in law, actually.

I made the mistake of playing the 4.0 update of Genshin while I was finalizing my PhD in law and politics, and the result was my brain refuse to think about anything else than judicial performativity and the use judicial spectacle in Fontaine. So time to make good use of 9 years of University by dissecting why I absolutely love how Fontaine’s justice system is presented. It was initially much longer and covering why justice as a spectacle is not necessarily an issue or sign of a disfunctionning legal system,  then what exactly about the Fontainian justice system is actually fucked up, but it got too long so I’m keeping that for the indeterminate future. So the pitch of this thing is: Mihoyo is basically providing us with an animated First Person POV game version of legal ethnographic works on justice and the courthouse, and it is really cool.

And since I am a nerd with both too much time to read and to play, we are making this a proper academic, with literature and all, because listen to me, LEGAL ACADEMICA IS COOL, ACTUALLY, and law and literature at large is a genuine field of study that we, as a society, need to talk about more.

[also there is non-zero chance that I edit this brainrot and submit it for publication at some point]

Warning: I am basing this on 4.0, up to and including Act IV Chapter II (hence no discussion of the prison system) and if Mihoyo thwarts the whole thing with 4.1  [oops I am late so now 4.2, since 4.1 did not thwart it] then let’s do what we do when new results contradict existing theories in academia and just collectively agree to ignore it.

TL;DR: Someone at Mihoyo read Simonett’s 1966 essay on The Trial as One of the Performing Arts [Here, just read it, it is fascinating] and decided to make it everyone’s problem

Part 0: if this was not Tumblr.com I would make a recap explaining broadly what Genshin and Fontaine are but since you are reading this I’m going to assume you already know the context.

Part 1: Ok so how does the Fontanian Justice system work, exactly?

Alright, so each area of Teyvat has 1) one core theme/value and 2)a threat to that core theme/value.

Mondstadt has Freedom and people living in fear of a dragon.

Liyue has Contracts/order and the pandemonium of having Rex Lapis killed.

Inazuma has Eternity and being virtually frozen in time.

Sumeru has Knowledge and being entirely manipulated by the Akademia.

Fontaine has Justice and… Justice being parodied into a spectacle?

WRONG.

Because the spectacle of justice, especially the way it is done in Fontaine, is not antithetic to Justice itself. Spectacle is part and parcel of Justice and of any courthouse. Sure, all the dials are turned to 11 and y’know, it is legit called an Opera, but that is more the writers being a bit on the nose and adding drama for the player. The spectacle of Justice, itself, is not that far off from reality. And, hot take but bear with me: it is not (necessarily) a problem.

Ok, let’s dive into what we know of the justice system in Fontaine.

Broadly speaking, we have seen the criminal justice system, and it is an accusatorial, or adversarial model. It’s the US-style criminal procedure: you have a defendant trying to prove that they didn’t do it your honor, and a prosecutor proving that they totally did it your honor. To avoid this becoming a fistfight, you have a strict procedure to follow outside but especially inside the Court, and in the end, a neutral third party decides on the outcome or the trial.

Ok, now let’s zoom on a few things, and why the theatrics of them are actually very common.

Furina, our cringefail darling, is the prosecutor. And they get a lot of stuff right regarding the role of the prosecutor! She decides whether or not to prosecute, based on the information that she has, and whether she likes her odds or not. Fittingly since she is the Archon, the prosecutor in a trial represents the State, the interest of the State (the judge ! does ! not!). It makes sense that Furina, the ruler (theoretically) would be prosecutor and not judge. Moreover, and as we see plenty of times during the trials, Prosecutor Furina is not concerned with the victim, and not even necessarily with the truth; the prosecutor wants to know how likely they are to obtain a conviction in the end. Her job is to be convincing enough to establish a legal truth.

Neuvillette, for his part, sometimes look terribly powerless… but friends, that is what a Judge sitting during a criminal case often is. The first part of his job is to find sufficient information for the prosecution to decide whether or not to prosecute; he is supposed to be entirely neutral at this stage. He kickstarted the investigation straight after the death of Cowell, and was also the one starting investigation on Vaughn right after Lyney is proved innocent. He gathers enough evidence, hands them over to Furina and asks “So? Are you game or do you want to leave that alone?”

And once the prosecutor has decided to move forward with prosecuting, his job is to make the procedure move along, take some decisions based on new information, ensure all respect the rules (hence Childe’s immediate smackdown when he starts to act out a bit too much at the end. My man is here to make sure the rules are enforced and that also applies to Snezhnayan gremlins). In the liminal space of the courthouse, he is the supreme authority… over the procedure. He can tell anyone, including Furina, to stfu k thx. He starts and stops the trial. He allows witnesses to be heard or not.

And the last party involved at this point is the defense, usually the Traveler and any adorable twink we befriended that day [good for you, Traveler, good for you]. They present evidence, they have to be convincing, it’s basically Ace Attorney, we know that part.

Part 2: Mihoyo makes it clear that we are all actors in the Courtroom

Ok, first moment of pause.

Even though these are the most basic parts of a criminal trial, they are ALREADY steeped in drama and theatrics, both IRL and in Fontaine.

First off, Furina plays a prosecutor, Neuvillette plays a judge and the Traveller plays the lawyer.

No but really: they play their role in the Courthouse.

The game painstakingly presents Furina for the first time not as a prosecutor in a courthouse but as a cringefail princess. When we see her initially welcoming the Traveller, going “Fight Me” at them in the streets of Fontaine, she is not a prosecutor, she is just Furina the cringefail princess.  We meet Furina as Furina, and later on only, we see her with her Prosecutor face. Furina is not a prosecutor, outside of the Courthouse.

I don’t even have to explain how much Traveler plays lawyer. We are, and I cannot stress it enough, NOT lawyers (yes, even you who developed an unhealthy obsession with Ace Attorney before Genshin). The developers even took the time to develop an entire new gameplay to really, really highlight that is a behavior that the Traveler can only have in the Courthouse. Traveler is not a lawyer outside of the courthouse.

Neuvillette is a bit of a special case. We do meet him for the first time in the Courthouse, as a Judge. But once again, the moment we meet him outside of the courthouse, he is much more approachable, definitely not the same persona as when he bitchslapped my problematic Harbinger into the Meropides prison [we are so going to write something about the Meropides prison once I have played enough 4.1 my friends – update post 4.1: ok Mihoyo that was weak commentary on the privatization of prison and prison labour but I’ll take it]. Neuvillette is probably the one that is the most associated with his courthouse persona, but there is still this gap between Neuvillette-Judge and Neuvillette-reflecting-in-the-end-of-Chapter-II.

So everyone is just themselves in their daily life, but there is something about a Courthouse that turns people into their judicial role. That’s what we call the liminality of the courthouse (Hadar, 1999). And it exists IRL, in a way shockingly close to what we see in the Opera Epiclese.

Magistrates, whether prosecutors or judges, do not act in their own names, they have a role to play. Someone woke up that morning, had breakfast, swore at the neighbour who did not park properly again, spilled some coffee on their documents again ffs, stumbled a bit on the little steps leading to the courthouse, and then, they put on their costume and started to play the role of the judge. As someone who has been in what can only be referred to as “backstage”  of a court , and entered the courthouse with the magistrates, I cannot stress enough how drastic the shift in person is the moment a magistrate steps into the space of the trial room.  

From there on, they are a Role. Furina, like any prosecutor, is not a prosecutor, until they are The Prosecutor, and then they are not themselves anymore, in the enclosed space of the courthouse. Have you ever seen a lawyer talk in their daily life the way to talk in a courthouse? No. Someone is just some person, until their put on the robe and their Lawyer Face and start their Lawyer Movement and Lawyer Tone. Traveler cannot go all OBJECTION when they have a disagreement with a random shopkeeper in Teyvat. The game doesn’t even give you the option – because you are not lawyer, unless you are in the court. None actually plays a lawyer, unless they are in the courthouse.

And an adversarial model encourages this. You have character, but for it to be a play, or an opera, you need a narrative (murder, ok, that will kickstart a narrative) and you need dramatic tension. Drama is created by the opposition of two characters having opposite goals, confronting each other. Simonett, a former Minessotta Supreme Court Judge, has a fascinating article called “The Trial as One of the Performing Art”, which really ecapsulates how an adversarial system is built on this drama:

‘The trial has a protagonist, and antagnonist, a proscenium and an audience, a story to be told and a problem to be resolved, all usually in three acts”.

More than an inquisitory model (hello, fellow continental Europeans), parties are encouraged to bounce off each other, take initiative, undermine and interact with each other. US courthouse TV shows loooove that, and Genshin absolutely leaned into that. The potential for drama was so strong and intrinsic to the story that For the first time, we got to play a character that was not even with the traveler: Traveler was off investigating, and we played Navia in the courthouse, because the sheer drama of being in the courthouse is too good for the game to pass.

Do you see it yet? Here is more. A judicial role is a role. IRL, a lot of it is emphasized by the robes -the - sometimes complete with wigs and accessories- that judges and magistrates must wear before entering the space of the courthouse. You put them on like you put on a costume -defendant, prosecution, judge and even audience alike (Cabatingan, 2018), there is a ritual of preparing for the performance of a trial the way you prepare for a play. Genshin characters cannot change their clothes [give us a proper fancy-af-judge-robe for Neuvilette Mihoyo you COWARDS], so the game does all it can to realllllyy show you a separation between the judicial role and the actor playing I in the courthouse.

Part 3: Game designers said yes this an Opera and a Courthouse because these are the same thing and they are right

[The urge to include Foucault in this section, but I do not have Discipline and Punish with me rn, rip]

Ok, ok, why not. But what about the stuff that is not in your random courthouse, like a damn AUDIENCE and the fact that it takes place in an actual OPERA ?

Aight, we gotta dive a bit deeper into two things: the role of audience in the judicial spectacular, and studies on legal architecture/judicial space. I told you legal research was cool.

Let’s start with the most obvious one: architecture.

The architecture of Courthouse is actually really important for the delivery of justice. The building embodies the task itself, and targets evert single person that interacts with the building in any way? It matters specifically because we take it for granted, that this this is just a building, that there cannot be more to it. Or: “Law in its everydayness, banks on the usage of visual means of representation, for they seem to lack artifice, and thus enjoy high persuasiveness” (Kumar, 2017, also this is a study on the architecture of the Indian Supreme court and it is so good). But thi is, of course, on purpose.

My friends, your local courthouse looks like an opera. Recently, I went to a play which was entirely a trial, and they barely had to do anything to set-up the scene because… the opera looks like a courthouse, and vice versa. Fontaine’s Opera Epiclese is this on steroid, and also actually used for entertainment like the magic shows, but its architecture and structure are so close to a proper courthouse that once you see it you cannot unsee it. Not matter how different they might look from each other, all, ALL courtroom have the same setup:

Judges on an elevated position compared to all other parties : Neuvillette absolutely kills it here [my man is placed so high up I was close to writing something about the religiosity of justice.]

Prosecution and accused on two opposite sides, virtually separated by the judge, even putting the defendant in their own little liminal space in the liminal space (Zoettl, 2016, Mulcahy, 2007)

Audience space and trial space clearly separated, with interdiction for the audience to enter the trial space

Audience space allowing to clearly see all angles of the trial space

The architecture of courthouse is strikingly similar to that of an opera’s, both in its spatial organization and its grandiose. The entire building is an opera, not just the ground of the stage. You even have a lobby, the space right in the Opera but not the courtroom, which is very similar to the space where people mingle during the interlude at the Opera – the social settings were many legal negotiations happen (Hansen, 2008)

[Fun fact: I am pretty sure the design of the audience space of the Opera Epiclese was inspired by two Parisian Opera houses: the Théâtre de la Comédie Française et the Théâtre du Châtelet. The stage itself is almost more church-like ; I am curious if anyone knows what the inspiration for the “outside building” actually was, for the Opera Epiclese?]

Eltringham (2012) has some really cool writings about the architecture, and people interact with the structure of courts (in his case, the International Criminal for Rwanda) and how all these features contribute to making the courthouse this liminal space where people can play their role, whether they realise it or not.

But, Almost-doctor, I hear you say, what about the spectacle ?! The audience enjoying the show ?!

Ah, yes. The audience. Just as with an Opera, the audience and the actors enter through differentiated means (the “segregation of circulatory systems”), all with their own point of access to the stage or the seats, and never the two shall meet. It is so important to a court system that you will find this feature highlighted by the architects that renovated the Bordeaux Courthouse and the US courthouse design and planning guide [These are just fun and striking illustration I stumbled on while writing this, you can find dozens of others from any given country]. These differentiated access path help reinforce the liminality of the courthouse not just for the actors, but for us, the audience as well.

You could even agree, with Garapon, that the audience itself is “playing” the audience, in the Courthouse (go read Garapon’s 2004 book, if you read French, it’s so good I swear and like it fueled 90% of whatever this word vomit is)). You are not really yourself, you have new, liminal role of spectator. A trial has a “need for a public”, even a silent one. “'Performance always intends an audience”, for Kapferere. and we can indeed talk about a Performance of Justice, when talking about how justice unfolds in the courthouse, especially in a criminal trial (Sausdal and Lohne, 2021).

The audience is an inherent part of the spectacle of justice – because is there a spectacle if there I no audience? If comedians perform a play with no audience, did it really happen? In the words of our own European Court of Human Rights (I am quoting the ECtHR on Tumblr.com, what is life): “Justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done” (Delcourt v Belgium, 1970). For Garfinkel “Legal rituals ... depend on the outside witness to confer on them not only recognition but validity” (Garfinkel, 1956);

Or, to put it more eloquently: “The need for the presence of a validating public at trials is enshrined in many constitutions and built into the very fabric of court complexes throughout the world. (…) Tthe court as a whole requires its reflection in the bodies of validating witnesses in order that this created place will bring sufficient gravity to itself.” (Eltringham 2012).

If a courthouse was just about the truth, or the parties involved reaching an agreement on what the truth is, there would be no need for the theatrics. We could handle a trial in a meeting group like problem-solving session in any run-of-the-mill company. Put everyone around the table, have a moderator, have a decider. That actually exist, it’s called arbitration, and you may have never heard of it despite the absolutely enormous amount of money that are involved (we are talking literal Billions of dollars every year, here), because the whole point is that it is discrete and confidential. But that is not how trials are, anywhere. It does exist though. It is called private arbitration, a form of private justice that focuses on problem-solving, expediency and secrecy, often because my friends, it involves big names and big money.

But justice? My friend, it needs to be a spectacle. It needs an Opera. Because this is how it gains sociological legitimacy, and it needs sociological legitimacy to function. By having an audience, it gains transparency and accountability.

Conclusion: teaser on why the spectacle of justice is not necessarily always totally bad, but also I am too tired to fully argue that.

Now, you might that it’s a bad idea. That what Genshin is doing is denouncing this inherently spectacular aspect of Justice, that there is something inherently wrong in justice being public and publicized for the gain of legitimacy, and sure, spectacular justice can become a parody of justice or a manipulation of justice and this has happened many times in history. And yes, you could go for that (although show trials have typically been at the service of an authoritarian regime in a transition phase, rising or declining, and target political opponents, which we do not see in Fontaine) but… I have another take for you.

Justice being a spectacle is not…  inherently bad. 

Hear me out. Making justice into a spectacle does not have to affect its outcome. The presence of a public does not change the course of a play.

Spectacular justice brings elements of entertainment such as narrative fulfillment and catharsis. That is clearly what Fontainians want: a satisfying end to the story, the truth exposed. Justice as a spectacle help people make sense of their reality, comfort them in knowing that justice does prevail. That the guilty do not go scott-free, that the good guys win, that justice is transparent, that prosecutor need to be able to build a good story to prosecute, and there is no good story is there is not someone who caused harm, and a victim that deserves justice. And, from the information we have so far, this does not seem to lead to miscarriages of justices, or a generally biased justice system. But frankly this is too long already and I just wanted to show that the depiction of the Spectacular in everyday justice is actually present everywhere IRL, and Genshin is just providing a really handy illustration, at this point of the story.

The Fontanian system is fucked, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not about the spectacular on its own. Long story short since it be worth its own word-vomit-style essay, it’s because the jury has been replaced by ChatGPT and there is no civil court, only a criminal court, k bye.

[cicelythereaper]

If I wanted to get really into medieval welsh literature instead of just reading everything in our beloved Hergest duo, do you have any recommendations on where to begin?

hi! sorry it took me so long to answer this but hopefully the length of the answer means it's worth the wait. by "our beloved hergest duo" i'm assuming you mean the white book of rhydderch and the red book of hergest, and more specifically the texts collected as the mabinogion from those two manuscripts - if i'm wrong let me know. i'm also assuming that you mainly want to read in english translation, at least to start with.

there is a LOT of medieval welsh literature out there beyond the mabinogion but a lot of it is harder to access. this is a rough menu of options with my honest opinions about how easy it is to get at these things:

the triads of the island of britain (trioedd ynys prydein), aka a big long list of People And Things From Welsh Tradition (Some Possibly Made Up). for this you want rachel bromwich's edition and translation: there are four different editions of this and all of them are expensive (and three of them are out of print). i recommend keeping an eye out on secondhand book websites for the 2nd edition (1978) or the 4th (2014), or bugging your library to see if they have, or will buy, either of these. if you're currently at uni you may be able to get access to an electronic version of the 4th edition.

material about merlin. maybe start with geoffrey of monmouth's latin vita merlini - this is less a reflection of welsh tradition and more an extremely lengthy riff on it, but still very interesting. a new translation of it can be found here! medieval merlin material in welsh is basically all prophetic poetry, mostly from the black book of carmarthen. at the moment, the best place to find translations of this is in the romance of merlin, ed. peter goodrich (1990) - again i recommend looking out for a secondhand copy or talking to your library. hopefully the myrddin project at cardiff will soon have fresh editions and translations for us available online! (in the meantime, here's their twitter.) there's also armes prydein vawr, a somewhat different type of prophecy poem also associated with merlin/myrddin and generally dated to the 10th century, which you can find on archive.org here.

material associated with taliesin. this comes in many shapes and sizes. first of all, there's praise poetry attributed to taliesin and addressed to the 6th-century king urien of rheged: this is mostly translated in the two clancy anthologies i'm going to cite further down, but if you want the welsh text, the best place to find it is probably in ifor williams' edition (translated into english as the poems of taliesin by j. e. caerwyn williams, available from the dublin institute for advanced studies). second of all, there's All The Other Poetry Attributed To Taliesin: for this you want marged haycock's legendary poems from the book of taliesin and prophecies from the book of taliesin. again with these i recommend the secondhand or library approach. THIRD of all, there's a relatively late folktale about taliesin (this is where ceridwen and gwion bach come in): this you can find translated in patrick k. ford's the mabinogi (which it looks like you can get as a kindle or paperback comparatively cheap).

y gododdin, the massive poetic text attributed to aneirin about A Lot Of Dead Dudes In Southern Scotland. this is a tough one to get to grips with, i'm not gonna lie. if you want to get at the welsh text, the massive modern welsh edition by ifor williams (canu aneirin) is still the best there is, but he reorders the stanzas of the poem from the manuscript pretty radically. (to see the stanzas in order, look for daniel huws' facsimile edition of the book of aneirin - or, depending on how well you read medieval welsh handwriting, check out the manuscript itself.) for translations, i recommend joseph p. clancy's, which has multiple versions floating around - there's one in the triumph tree (ed. thomas owen clancy) and a slightly less full one in medieval welsh poems (joseph clancy's big anthology, now out of print). this is the most poetic while still being largely accurate, but if you're concerned about academic levels of accuracy, then i recommend balancing clancy out with kenneth jackson's the gododdin: the oldest scottish poem, which has the advantage of being designed to be used alongside ifor williams. FOR ALL OF THESE you'll need to hit up secondhand booksellers or libraries.

early welsh englyn poetry: by this i mean poetry in englyn metre about historic figures and landscapes. as academic sources/translations, if you can get your hands on them, i recommend jenny rowland's early welsh saga poetry (1990) and patrick sims-williams' new englynion y beddau (2023), but both of these are massive and expensive. a more approachable way to get at this material may be rowland's a selection of early welsh saga poems, which is intended more for classroom use - this you can get for relatively cheap as a paperback. you might also want to check out kenneth jackson's studies in early celtic nature poetry (dated, but i think he translates some of the less-studied englyn poetry in there: again, check with secondhand booksellers) and nicolas jacobs' early welsh gnomic and nature poetry (cheaper and easier to get, but untranslated, though he gives a useful glossary so you can attempt it yourself).

additional arthurian material. this is scattered across various places and manuscripts, but some good places to learn about it, if not necessarily read it, are o. j. padel's arthur in medieval welsh literature (2013, heavily recommended, you can get it cheap as a paperback); bromwich et al's the arthur of the welsh (1991), which iirc includes patrick sims-williams' translation of my beloved arthurian poem pa gur; and the new and exciting arthur in the celtic languages, ed. ceridwen lloyd-morgan and erich poppe (2019), which is going to give you a BIG and comprehensive overview of every text arthur has ever shown up in in welsh. for the last two you definitely want to go secondhand or through a library. EDITED TO ADD: [LOUD BUZZER NOISE] I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT NERYS ANN JONES' ARTHUR IN EARLY WELSH POETRY which came out in 2019! go buy it it's a £15 paperback! an absolute steal for what you get!

high and late medieval poetry of praise, lament and love: the bread and butter of the professional poet. these can be found in various places. for the gogynfeirdd, the high medieval poets, the medieval welsh texts (+ modern welsh paraphrases) can be found in the absolutely massive series cyfres beirdd y tywysogion, but this is not something to attempt to get without a powerful library on your side. the late medieval poetry, on the other hand, is edited in cyfres beirdd yr uchelwyr and can be found online here - which was news to me! much of this material has never been translated into english. for a good selection of translations of some of the best stuff, i really recommend joseph p. clancy's medieval welsh poems (find a secondhand copy or get your library to do it for you), and/or tony conran's welsh verse. a couple of good selections of the later medieval poetry are: the poetry of dafydd ap gwilym, ALL of which is available online in translation here; loomis and johnston's medieval welsh poems: an anthology; and dafydd johnston's galar y beirdd: poets' grief, which specifically collects poets' laments for their dead children.

RELIGIOUS MATERIAL, of which there is a shit-ton. my recommendations are definitely going to be missing some stuff (e.g. soul-and-body dialogues, descriptions of purgatory, etc) but here's what i've got. for material to do with welsh saints, i recommend this website, where you can find translations of a lot of the latin prose lives of saints and quite a few welsh poems about saints as well - and if you look at the bottom you'll see it lists a few more books you might want to look into. if you want an even fuller look at welsh saints' latin lives, albeit dated, see if you can get your hands on a secondhand/library copy of wade-evans' vitae sanctorum britanniae (1944). if you like genealogies, barry lewis i believe has just put out an edition and study of bonedd y saint, the genealogies of the welsh saints, available from the dublin institute for advanced studies (though it's not the cheapest thing out there).* there is also a lot of general religious poetry, which you can find edited in marged haycock's blodeugerdd barddas o ganu crefyddol cynnar (1994) and translated in mckenna's the medieval welsh religious lyric (1991).

*i should also say that if you're interested in medieval welsh genealogies in general, you want ben guy's medieval welsh genealogy - this is very technical and probably expensive but if you really need to know who's related to who in the welsh historical imagination, it's a great resource.

(pseudo-)historical texts: there are various of these. the most famous is geoffrey of monmouth's de gestis britonum (also known as historia regum britanniae, 'history of the kings of britain') - this you can find edited and translated by reeve & wright under the latter title. if you want to know about geoffrey's work but you can't get your hands on it or don't have time to read what is honestly a massive text, then i recommend karen jankulak's book geoffrey of monmouth - super useful and you can get it cheap as a paperback. then there are medieval welsh translations of this text (all known as brut y brenhinedd), some of which go on to become chronicles in their own right (brut y tywysogion). off the top of my head there are three different versions of brut y tywysogion which you can find in a good english translation: the peniarth 20 version (edited and translated by thomas jones, edition 1941, translation 1952); the red book of hergest version (ed. and trans. thomas jones, 1955); and brenhinedd y saesson (ed. and trans. thomas jones, 1971). you might also want to check out the medieval biography of gruffudd ap cynan (king of gwynedd 1081-1137), which starts as a latin text and is later translated into welsh. the latin text is edited and translated by paul russell as vita griffini filii conani (2005); the welsh text is edited as historia gruffud vab kenan (1977) and translated as a mediaeval prince of wales: the life of gruffudd ap cynan (1990) by d. simon evans.

edited to add: [LOUD BUZZER SOUND] I FORGOT ABOUT HISTORIA BRITTONUM AND SHOULD BE PUBLICLY SHAMED. this is a ninth-century latin historical text from north wales, it's weird as hell, i love it to bits and should probably actually read more of it. currently the edition everybody uses is john morris's nennius: british history and the welsh annals (1980), which is not the most expensive thing out there but certainly not the cheapest so get it through your library if you can. this is especially useful in conjunction with geoffrey's de gestis britonum because he was absolutely using it as a source.

the hardest thing to get at on this list: translation literature. by the time we get to the red book of hergest there's been a huge boom in medieval translations of french and latin texts into welsh - and these are often really fun and interesting to read, but under-studied! this is an issue because it means i basically cannot recommend you any english translations of them. if you're still interested and you want to plough through the medieval welsh yourself, here are some texts:

cân rolant, a welsh version of the 'song of roland' aka Violence Violence Violence, edited and translated by a. c. rejhon (1984) - the only thing on this list to have a recent translation, alas;

ystorya de carolo magno, edited by stephen williams, 2nd edition (1986) - a welsh version of the charlemagne legend, this is where cân rolant comes from;

ystoryaeu seint greal, a welsh translation of two french romances, queste del saint graal and perlesvaus: you can find the whole thing in the (very old, undoubtedly outdated) selections from the hengwrt mss volume 1, y seint greal, edited and translated by robert williams (1874-6), which is on archive.org here, and the welsh text of the first part is edited as y keis by thomas jones (1992);

ystorya bown de hamtwn, a welsh version of the romance of bevis of hampton, an absolutely insane text about the worst man in the world which i love dearly: the whole thing is edited (but not translated) by morgan watkin (1958); selected bits of it are edited with a useful glossary for classroom use by erich poppe and regine reck as selections from ystorya bown o hamtwn (2009);

a welsh bestiary of love, ed. g. c. g. thomas (2008) - a translation of the french bestiaire d'amour, aka Do You Want To Hear The Worst Man In The World Tell You Dubious Animal Facts? Of Course You Do;

kedymdeithyas amlyn ac amic, edited by patricia williams (1982), a welsh version of the french tale ami et amile about two identical friends;

chwedlau odo, a collection of fables, edited by ifor williams (1958);

chwedlau seith doethon rufein, edited by henry lewis (1958) - 'stories of the seven sages of rome'.

and finally, medical texts! if you want a look at medieval welsh medical practices and you want to learn a lot of plant names in middle welsh, check out diana luft's medieval welsh medical texts, which you can find online for free here.

i hope this is helpful! enjoy Experiencing Welsh Literature and best of luck getting your hands on it!

[my-rewrite-academia]

hello! do you have any fun trivia about the UA staff members?

Hello!

-

I most certainly do! In no particular order:

All Might loves period dramas. Whenever he's alone with nothing to do, he'll pull up some period drama and keep x-many tissues on hand.

Mic is lactose intolerant. However, just like every lactose intolerant person ever, he will consume an ungodly amount of cheese and milk.

Nedzu keeps a spray bottle of water on him at all times. Just in case he sees a cat and doesn't know which instinct will take over.

Midnight, despite her persona, has only actually slept with two people. Nobody knows this, not even the two people she's slept with.

Aizawa once fell asleep on a train and woke up two hours away from where he was supposed to go. He will never sleep on the train again.

Snipe will sometimes yell 'yippee ki-yay' before he shoots someone. There are now compilations of him doing this on HeroTube.

Vlad King, if he's splashed with water, will act as though it's holy water and cry out in pain. Just for the laughs. And to convince people that he's a vampire.

Hound Dog has once tried dog food, as he believed it would taste good due to his quirk. It did not, and he will never try dog food again.

Thirteen likes black liquorice. Nobody knows why they like it, and they will go to the grave swearing it's the best sweet ever. (It is not.)

Etcoplasm has had a good number of noise complaints, due to him bursting into song whenever he's at home. He does not use a microphone or a karaoke system - he's simply loud.

Recovery Girl tried to study Latin, where a lot of terminology for medical studies come from, but quickly found herself bored and accidentally learned Greek instead.

Power Loader is scared of dogs. There's no reason why, he just is, which may be why he's more scared than most when he has to speak to Nedzu. Even a dog barking is enough to make him panic.

Cementoss' favourite genre of literature is horror. Most people assume it's either romance or philosophy, but nope. He much prefers the horror genre, though few know about this.

Lunch Rush's quirk is actually not related to food. His quirk increases both his stamina and his speed, which he uses to cook a variety of dishes at once, without sacrificing the taste. He also hates bugs.

-

Thanks for the ask!

[icaruskey]

The purpose of having a library is for the educational and cultural enrichment of humanity. Libraries promote social equality, justice, and freedom of information. The purpose of Ao3 is for your personal enjoyment of fanfiction. Ao3 promotes going to Ao3 to view content on Ao3.

Ao3 is not an archive, it’s a content hosting site. (Just because an organization uses a word in its name doesn’t mean it’s that thing, that’s politics 101.) They should be held to the same standards as all other constant hosting platforms.

I’m a literature student and a massive fan of Nabokov’s work. Stop assuming I hold beliefs I don’t actually hold.

Dumbass.

"I'm a literature student" I'm a book artist doing an internship at the US's oldest library you're not special.

Libraries hold plenty of derivative fanworks of their own. It's almost like literature has a history of repeating the same stories with different spins on them. And there's a hell of a lot of fighting to try and censor those fanworks, hence Lolita. Hence books basically Lolita but missing the point. Racist books, outdated books, etc.

Ao3 is the answer to people trying to censor creation the same way they've tried to censor it in more traditional mediums. And guess what? Ao3 doesn't just host fanworks; it hosts OG content too.

Actually, you are special. You're a literature student so blinded by a hatred of a thing you don't agree with that you can't see what you're studying is basically the same thing but nondigital.

Also like. Ao3 has an extremely deep history in anti-censorship and preserving history. Why is it that you devalue fanwork history so much but think libraries, who host fanworks of their own just bound in nice, usually, covers, with the serial numbers sanded off, should be held to a different standard?

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 8

truce

30 January 1996

Mattheo’s POV

I make my way through the halls, music playing through the walkman I enchanted, as I head towards the Astronomy Tower. I’ve been dragged through a study session with Astoria most of the day and I need a cigarette badly. 

As I reach the top of the tower, I pause not expecting to see anyone else up here in the cold. But standing there, silhouetted by the golden setting sun, is Euphemia Potter leaning against a stone pillar. Her hair looks like fire where the sun shines through it, and I figure she must be cold because she’s only in jeans and a dark sweater. “Aren’t you cold, Potter?” I ask, stepping closer and pushing my headphones to hang around my neck. Her head snaps towards me, startled by my voice and the sun highlights a tear trail down her pink cheeks. She turns away quickly, a hand wiping away the tears before she turns back to me. 

“It’s not so bad in the sun,” she shrugs, her arms crossed over her chest, hands hidden in her sleeves.

“You okay?” I ask hesitantly. She nods and I lean against a stone pillar a few feet away from her and pull out a pack of cigarettes, lifting one to my lips and lighting the tip. I look out over the grounds and surrounding mountains, resisting the urge to look at the girl to my left. 

“Any chance I can bum one of those?” Her voice, quiet and soft, pulls me from my thoughts, my eyes finding hers. 

“You smoke?” I ask dubiously, raising an eyebrow. “I would’ve thought that beneath you, princess.” 

“Maybe you should stop assuming things about me,” she responds, but there’s no malice in her voice but rather, it sounds more like a soft plea. I hold out the pack to her, both of us stepping closer to close the gap, and I watch her pull a cigarette from the pack and lift it to her full lips. Before I can offer her my lighter, she snaps her fingers producing a small flame to light the tip. I watch, bewildered at the small display of wandless magic, as her take a deep inhale, her eyes closing as she exhales. Her head falls back against the stone at her back, grief and sadness in her eyes so intense I feel as if I’m intruding. Her eyes are red and her cheeks flushed.

“So, what brings you up here besides the allure of bumming my smokes?” I ask, feeling the need to fill the silence and pull her out of whatever thoughts make her look this sad. Her eyes find mine and her lips turn up in a small smile. 

“Allure of some peace and quiet actually,” she responds, covering the sadness with playfulness. “A cigarette is a consolation,” She lifts the cigarette to her lips and I can’t help but watch as she exhales the smoke slowly and as it curls around her, glowing golden in the light of the setting sun. 

“What were you listening to?” she asks motioning toward the headphones around my neck. 

“The Smiths,” I say quietly, surprising myself with my honestly. My enjoyment of Muggle music is something I keep close to my chest, not many people in my life would accept it and I’d rather not deal with the disappointment. 

“You listen to The Smiths?” She asks, looking surprised. 

“Yes,” I grumble, feeling defensive. She steps forward, reaching out to take the headphones from my neck and puts them on her own head before I can stop her. She listens for a moment, smiling slightly as the music washes over her. 

“The Smiths are great. I like a lot of muggle music. I’m surprised you listen to it though,” she says, taking the headphones off and handing them back. 

“Muggles’ artistry is better than ours. Music, literature, film,” I shrug, taking a drag of my cigarette and taking my headphones back, our fingers brushing as I do so. 

“I agree,” Euphemia says, her eyes looking out over the grounds expanding below us. “It’s like… they don’t have magic so they create their own. They see the world differently than we do, and they make their own magic, find it in things like love or nature. Honestly, I’m not sure who is better off for it.” I watch as she looks out over the grounds, sadness returning to her eyes as she takes a deep inhale of smoke, her auburn hair swaying slightly as a cool breeze comes through. 

“There’s a Muggle town near our house and I used to sneak out to go walk around, get out of the house. One day I wandered into this record store and… never wanted to leave,” I say quietly, looking out at the view to avoid Euphemia’s gaze. 

“Really?” She asks, her voice sounding genuinely curious. I nod and take another drag. 

“The shopkeeper eventually got sick of me coming in and listening but not buying anything so he gave me an old turntable and a couple damaged records he couldn’t sell. Hid them under the floorboards in my room,” I continue, chuckling slightly at the memory. 

“Floorboard trick is a life saver. Our aunt and uncle would lock all our school things away during the summer so we couldn’t, I don’t know, hex them or whatever. So Harry and I would have to sneak down, grab a couple books and do our summer work at night and hide it all in the floorboards during the day.” I turn to look at Euphemia as she talks, shaking her head at the memory. “They’ve never been smart enough to catch us,” she chuckles and takes one last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out on the metal railing.

“I think my mum knows but doesn't want to make a fuss of it, I guess,” I shrug. Euphemia turns to look at me, our eyes meeting, and for a moment we don’t speak but just hold each other’s gaze. 

“What’s your mum like?” She asks after a long moment, her eyes not leaving mine. 

“Why?” I ask, wondering why on earth Euphemia Potter gives a shit about my mum. 

“Curious,” she shrugs. I search her face and all I find is a genuine curiosity. I take a deep last inhale of my cigarette and flick it off the tower before answering. 

“She’s like most mums, I guess. She does her best but being a Riddle… I think she’s lonely most of the time. No one remembers that it was an arranged marriage she had no say in, just that there was a marriage and who the groom was.” 

“She was a Malfoy, right?” 

“Yeah, Draco’s dad’s sister,” I answer. “Do you know what your mum was like?” I blurt out, immediately regretting it as Euphemia’s eyes snap to me filled with shock and sadness. 

“A little,” she nods. “Most people who talk about my parents just talk about how brave they were but they didn’t really know them. Professor Lupin,” she clenches the metal railing so tightly her knuckles turn white and she spits the professor’s name like it tastes poorly in her mouth, “knew her though. My dad too. Really, really well apparently.” Her tone turns bitter, her eyes avoiding mine as she looks off into the distance. The sun has now set behind the mountains, the light fading and turning blue rather than orange. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I’ve seen her interact with Lupin before and she always seemed to like him and vise versa; the anger in her voice shocks me. She looks at me for a moment before speaking. 

“Nothing, they uh, were at school together I guess. Stayed friends after,” she shrugs and I have a feeling she’s not saying the full truth but I don’t press. “From what I’ve been told she was very kind and intelligent,” she adds softly.

“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry,” I mutter quietly. 

“You know, you’re not so bad when you’re not acting like a raging prick,” she says. Her tone is teasing me but I can tell she’s genuine, her eyes soft as they look at me.

“You’re not so bad either,” I say, feeling uncomfortable at the confession, her gaze making me feel raw and exposed. 

“That hurt you to admit, didn’t it?” 

“Shut up,” I say, looking away from her face but she laughs and my eyes are pulled back to her. She laughs and it's like a revitalization potion and I wish I could bottle it and listen to it over and over. Her face is lit up with amusement and pride swells in my chest that I made her laugh like that. She looks at me with her bright green eyes and suddenly I’m laughing with her. 

“It took you long enough,” she teases, pushing her hair behind her ear. I track the movement with my eyes and I think she notices because her eyes dart away and suddenly, I feel almost weightless under her gaze. What the hell is wrong with me? “What would you say if I said we should call a truce?” She asks playfully.

“I think you’d lose your Gryffindor Princess rep if anyone heard you say that,” I quip but she just shrugs with a smile, looking over the now dark landscape. “Truce,” I agree. 

“Careful, you’re gonna lose your bad boy cred, Mattheo,” she teases. 

“Then I guess we’re both disgraced then, Euphemia,” I retort, turning so my body is facing her and smile mischievously. 

“Mia. If you’re gonna use my first name just call me Mia,” she says, looking back at me and I realize how close we actually are to each other: close enough that I can smell the faint scent of her perfume and feel her hair brush past my face as a gust of wind blows past us. She smells like jasmine and the air after it rains, her eyes the green of the trees with their still wet leaves.

We stand there in silence watching each other for a long moment and the rest of the world seems to drop away. But the moment is broken as laughter echoes up the stairs and I turn and see my friends climbing the last steps of the tower. 

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, we’ve been looking everywhere-” Theo says, his voice cutting off as he sees Mia and my proximity to her and he looks at me, eyebrows raised. Before I can say anything, Evan and Enzo reach the top of the tower, their expressions matching Theo’s as they notice Mia. 

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Potter?” Even says, his eyes scanning Mia up and down hungrily. 

“It’s me, Rosier, just don’t cream your pants,” Mia shoots back, not missing a beat. I glance at her, the softness in her from moments ago gone and replaced by a disdainful smirk as she silently dares Evan to say anything else. Enzo and Theo snort a laugh. “I was just leaving,” she says, glancing my way before pushing her way past my friends and disappearing down the stairs. I sigh and lean back against the metal railing, crossing my arms. 

“The fuck did we walk into?” Theo laughs, pulling out a cigarette. 

“Nothing,” I growl. 

“Dragon shit, you couldn’t cut the tension up here with a knife,” Enzo scoffs. 

“Did you finally hit that?” Evan asks, a crude smile on his face that makes anger risse in my chest. 

“Fuck off. She was here when I got here,” I snap, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. 

“And yet you stayed,” Evan points out. “Four months ago you would’ve run her out or left.” I level Evan with a glare to back off. 

“What was so urgent you were looking for me?” I ask, changing the subject. 

“You missed dinner,” Enzo answers with a shrug, sitting on the steps of the platform on one side of the tower. 

“Wasn’t hungry,” I grumble, taking another drag. 

“For food at least,” Theo mumbles and I reach out and punch his shoulder, causing the others to laugh. “Shit mate, nobody’s gonna blame you if you are into her.” 

“Well, I’m not , okay?” I say sharply, but I’m not so sure I mean it anymore. 

[familyabolisher]

sorry if you've already already answered this, but do you mind explaining your thoughts on anti-intellectualism (/the discourse surrounding it)? I'm trying to understand it but while I get how what is defined as intellectual is very selective etc, I took a lot of the discourse to be about how folks tend to ignore themes entirely for the literal, or not noticing obvious subtexual racism/propaganda and going 'it's not that deep' when folks point it out, the like.

maybe it's that I tend to hang around in sff circles bc stuff like that tends to proliferate there, and while I definitely think the mocking gets very over the top and cruel (+ ascribes a lot more importance to media than it has in reality) and I dislike the way folks seem to think it's a moral failure, from my perspective there is still things that are reasonable to criticise?

I'm genuinely asking this in good faith and trying to understand, sorry if there's something big/obvious I'm missing

i talked at length about my feelings on the discourse here; that post should cover most of what you're asking for, but to address your specific queries:

i understand what's meant by "[ignoring] themes entirely for the literal," but, to be blunt about it: i don't care! i have my way of engaging with what i like and you have yours, and if you're interested in my way then it's on me to keep the door open for you rather than sneering about how anyone who doesn't adhere to my preferred methodologies is beneath me. how we identify a reading that orients itself towards "themes" rather than the literal material of a text is already pretty incoherent and certainly not conclusive; many will argue that eg. writing fanfiction is fundamentally at odds with engaging with such 'themes,' but i don't see why that should be the case at all. my mantra for this kind of discourse is "worry about yourself"; discuss texts in the way you like to, and you'll probably encounter like-minded people who want to engage further, as well as interested parties who may not have thought about the approach you're taking before now but want to learn more. i think it's good to assume that we can't draw definitive conclusions about any one person's understanding of or approach to a text based on how we see them talk about it, and i think it's necessary to avoid making a character judgment based on a[n assumed] lack of xyz critical analysis skills.

& i talk about this in the linked post, but i think an appeal to an absence of 'intellectualism' wrt people refusing to engage with eg. racism in a text (or similar such bigotries) is obscurantist. it's not that people lack the intellectual capacity to engage with such criticisms and if they had these capabilities then they would be able to do so in a conscientious manner, else elite academic circles of literary studies would not invest significant time and effort in trivialising and dismissing readings of canonical works which speak frankly about their relationship to white supremacy. there are incredibly racist readings of texts which are wholly cohesive within the "intellectual" tradition of literary criticism; that tradition itself cannot be separated from the context of western imperialist hegemony from which it emerged, and nor can the critical practices which inform and perpetuate it. intellectualism alone has no explanatory power when talking about racist literature and racist readings of literature; it's a smokescreen behind which lie a handful of possible explanations that i touch on in the above post.

of course there are reasonable critiques to be made of which reading practices proliferate and which are sidelined, but "[anti]-intellectualism" is not an explanatory framework that i find actionable, because it is rooted in appeals to idealism rather than materialism.