#after two books of degrading her in public over everything she does

[mightyflamethrower]

NEW YORK (AP) — Dressed in a sequin-laced, sleeveless top and puffy pink skirt, drag queen Pattie Gonia strides around the stage in white high-heeled boots that come up to the knees, telling the crowd that nature must be a woman.

“She is trying to kill us in the most passive-aggressive way possible,” joked Gonia, who has a neatly trimmed mustache, long black eyelashes and a wig of long and flowing red hair. “It’s not some sort of immediate fire or flood or a cool explosion. She’s just like, ‘What? I raised the temperature a little.’”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Gonia asked, followed by the punchline, “Maybe I wouldn’t have (raised the temperature) if you had taken out the recycling like I asked!

Just as the crowd begins laughing, a large screen over the stage flashes a picture of a 2011 tweet from singer Britney Spears asking, “Does anyone think global warming is a good thing?” As Gonia points to the screen, she begins lip-syncing the Spears song, “Toxic.”

In its second year at New York Climate Week, “Save Her! Environmental Drag Show” has become a popular attraction during the event that includes hundreds of panels, activities and meetings with scientists, activists, executives from green energy companies, politicians and many others.

The show aims to inspire the audience to talk about climate change, caused by the burning of fuels like gasoline and coal, while making people laugh. The show combines disparate things to create absurdities, such as changing the lyrics of Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” song to, “Baby, you are a plastic bag,” while Gonia pulls plastic bags from her breasts.

While drag queens and drag kings enact scenes that could be interpreted as metaphors for harming or preserving the Earth, like crashing a car or riding a bike, somber statistics flash on the screen, like 20 large corporations are responsible for a large portion of all the greenhouse gases being released into the atmosphere and heating the planet.

There are also public service announcements, like when drag king Uncle Freak performed while images of Smokey Bear appeared above, encouraging audience members to take care of the forests.

Gonia, who at well over six feet tall cuts a striking figure, created the show, which includes outfits largely made of reused clothes, to combine her passion for the outdoors and environmentalism. But getting to that point was a long, and sometimes painful, road.

High heels go viral

Raised in Nebraska, Gonia, whose legal first name is Wyn, grew up feeling close to nature but struggled with their queer identity. After coming out, Wyn, who asked that their last name not be used because of issues with doxing, said acceptance for many friends and family members meant it was okay to be a gay man but not act as one. That expectation was underscored the first time Wyn dressed in drag, at the end of a conference in 2018.

The experience was exhilarating, but everything quickly turned negative.

“There was a deafening silence from friends and family back home,” said Wyn during an interview.

After months of being depressed, later that year Wyn, who now lives in Bend, Ore., went on a camping trip with friends along the Continental Divide in Colorado — and posted a clip wearing high heels.

“I woke up to a video I thought would have 30 views that had 3 million views,” said Wyn.

Pattie Gonia was born.

Arts and climate

“Save Her!” is part of a larger trend of art and popular culture that increasingly wrestles with climate change. Around the world, there are numerous art exhibitions, interactive museum displays and movies that recount environmental degradation, Indigenous peoples’ stewardship of land, forced migration and numerous other issues related to climate change. It’s a far cry from two decades ago, when environmentalist and author Bill McKibben wrote in an op-ed for Grist that art was crucial to combat climate change.

“Where are the books? The poems? The plays?” wrote McKibben.

Helen Clarkson, CEO of Climate Group, which organizes New York’s Climate Week, said the annual gathering has morphed from its start in 2011, when it was largely focused on climate as a business issue, to one that now includes hundreds of varied events, including poetry readings, plays and art exhibitions.

“The creative industries are really important for anything where you’re trying to connect with people, bring the subject alive,” said Clarkson. “What I don’t want is anyone to ever be like, ‘Do you end up with hope or do you end up with despair?’”

“Save Her!” wants people to walk away with hope. For every negative highlighted, the show appears to provide a positive anecdote. For example, drag queen Nini Coco, dressed as a butterfly, takes the crowd through the life cycle of Monarch Butterflies, which migrate from Canada and the United States to Mexico and then back again. Their populations have plummeted amid climate change.

Like in real life, in the show the butterflies die, but then the act ends with rebirth, a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.

“I hear about climate change a lot, but this makes it more real, more tangible,” said Heath Koch, a 27-year-old product designer who attended Tuesday night’s show.

Criticism of climate movement

The desire to inspire doesn’t mean Gonia is ready to give a pass to many climate activists.

“The climate movement needs a makeover,” said Gonia, arguing that many New York Climate Week events, and those at other large climate meetings, are exclusive, not inclusive. Many meetings are not open to the public, and some that are don’t allow for a multitude of voices, said Gonia.

“The climate community, they like to think they are these amazing, liberal, open-minded accepting people. Sometimes it’s the meanest girl table I’ve ever sat down at,” said Gonia.

But Gonia has also found some partnerships in the mainstream climate movement.

Earlier this year, as part of a paid promotion, Gonia made a punchy video on misconceptions about prescribed burns, or purposely burning swaths of forests as part of general land management. Dressed in a red and black gown crafted to resemble a flame, she and a state fire director at The Nature Conservancy did a funny, educational bit in the middle of a forest. They used humor to poke fun of people reluctant to embrace prescribed burns or engage at all.

The video received 210,000 likes, over 1,700 comments and over 14,000 shares between Instagram and TikTok. It skyrocketed to The Nature Conservancy’s second highest performing reel on Instagram.

“That is why we love working with influencers like Pattie, because she’s a master at it,” said Todd Metrokin, the nonprofit’s director of brand strategy.

Gonia said that ultimately she and other performers are communicators that bring more people into conversations about climate change.

“We are cutting through noise that corporations with 100 employees can’t cut through,” Gonia said.

When men wearing panties and a bra become experts on everything from climate science to Human Biology...........the end must be near. We aren't moving forward. We're being dragged back into the Primordial OOZe.

[poisonedwell]

everyone holds up crowfeather and ashfur as the pinnacle of Shitty Male Warrior Cats but y’all sleep on how awful brambleclaw is. i legitimately consider him to be almost on the same moral level as ashfur in power of three, he is that bad in the new prophecy.

[quokkacore]

can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!" 

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston. 

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on. 

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73. 

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day. 

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

 So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

 When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were. 

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial. 

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours. 

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy. 

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily. 

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning. 

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him. 

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface." 

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey." 

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you." 

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak. 

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you. 

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone. 

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?" 

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?" 

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does." 

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did. 

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage." 

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees." 

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life. 

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?" 

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight. 

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time. 

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.  

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss. 

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid. 

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did. 

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless. 

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” 

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until… 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground. 

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap. 

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said. 

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen. 

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out. 

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him. 

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin. 

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy. 

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin. 

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?" 

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted." 

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit. 

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still. 

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered. 

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now. 

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside." 

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours. 

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours. 

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch. 

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders. 

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod. 

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head. 

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.” 

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?" 

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!" 

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!" 

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before. 

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded. 

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!" 

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer. 

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds. 

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl." 

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast. 

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis. 

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie." 

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach. 

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore." 

[nuestraluzdelaluna]

can you do nsfw alphabet w/victoria (Måneskin) x fem reader please? i have be pretty obsessed w maneskin lately and i really need that, than youuu <33!!

Victoria de Angelis NSFW alphabet :

not proofread

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

She’s always making sure the both of you are alright and go out of her way to remind you how good you were and how much she loves you

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

Her favorite body part of you are your boobs, she’ll always stare at them especially when you are wearing a low cut shirt.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Don’t really know what to say when writing about women. She definitely loves to taste your cum going out of her way and always making sure she’s able to lick some of your cum off you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She loves nudes due to the fact that she is away a lot she will love to see pictures of your naked body or little videos of you teasing yourself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not too experienced but she still definitely knows what she is doing and is really good at it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where she has you on top and can watch your tits or your face.

Cow girl

Missionary

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

She is not goofy at all, at least not during the moment because there she will always focus on making the both of you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Vic doesn’t really care about shaving, she doesn’t have a routine or make sure she’s shaven all the time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

She’s not too intimate during the moment but afterwards she’ll definitely not stop telling you how good you did and how much she loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She masturbates a lot, just because she’s away from you so much.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spitting - watch the ‘i wanna be you slave’ me do i need to say more?

Choking - since she prefers to be the more dominant one she loves to choke you but will also occasionally like your hand around her throat.

Dom/sub - she’s definitely dominant you can’t change my mind and she is also most definitely a top.

Degradation - vic loves to call you names, knowing that both of you enjoy it.

Praise - especially with the one above, calling you her ‘good slut’

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Doesn’t matter at all, she will be down to do it literally everywhere.

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

Simply kissing will get her turned on sometimes

Neck kisses

Hickeys

Dressing up

whether you or her dress up sexy doesn’t matter

When you wear heels

Your nails on her skin

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There’s basically nothing she would say no to without trying it first.

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

Vic prefers receiving, while she loves to have your thighs around her head she prefers to have your tongue toying with her clit as your fingers massage her g spot.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood she is in but it’s mostly fast and rough. Sometimes when she feels extra affectionate she will be sure to take it slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies aren’t really her thing since she much rather likes to take her time with you, especially given the fact that she loves to edge you multiple times before actually letting you cum.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

She will definitely take risks and love it, you can’t convince me vic doesn’t love to tease and be teased in public. She especially loves experimenting and is always down to try new things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Many rounds, she needs quite some time to regain her energy and recover from the strong orgasms but then both of you will go all night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Will definitely use a strap on on you,besides that the two of you own every toy in the book. Vibrators, that will be used to tease each other, handcuffs to tie, preferably you, up and double ended dildos to make sure both of you get pleasure at the same time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Biggest tease, she definitely gets enjoyment out of edging you, driving you to the brim of an orgasm and then just pulling her fingers away, chuckling at your squirming.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends on the situation. Whenever she eats you out there are only the occasional whimpers against your pussy. However when you go down on her she will go full out and not hold back in regards to moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Thigh riding, she loves your thighs and enjoys to rub her sensitive pussy over your soft skin.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Don’t really know what to say about that when writing about a woman, especially vic since we basically have seen everything.

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

Not too high, she will definitely be able to go a few days without sex

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not that quick, she prefers to just hold you pressing her naked skin against yours as you chat about god knows what.

[babytortie]

so pretty

so pretty ❘ eddie kaspbrak x reader.

a/n: so this was already in the works but then it was requested by an anon - omg can u do eddie smut bae, like i just read ur eddie imagine.

* i hope this lives up to what they wanted. also !! i loved writing this so thanks for pushing me to finish it. :)

summary: in which eddie changes his look and overcomes his anxiety which causes him to gain the confidence he needed to finally make a bold move on his best friend(reader).

warnings: some fluff, mainly s m u t. <3

contains: blonde!!dom!eddie, teasing, begging, hair tugging, fingering, degradation, rough, and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are seniors and 18 in this one-shot.

~ 2.8k words.

in january, the day after winter break of your senior year was when everything started to change for you. it was when eddie decided to move out of sonia's home and into richie's. he'd had enough of his mom and her crazy theories of how he was gaining new sicknesses. though, it was also when he blossomed into the person he was meant to be. 

eddie walked into derry high early that morning with his brunette curls now dyed blonde, a dark shirt resting over a pair of ripped jeans, and with his fingernails painted black. every girl turned and glanced, and only realized it was eddie kaspbrak after a double take. he didn't care about those glances or the glares from the boyfriends of the girls who stared at him. all he was worried about was how you would think of him and his new look. 

the other six members of the club knew of his crush on you for years. even richie was jealous when you joined the group but that evaporated when the three of you became the inseparable trio. you had a teasing sibling bond with richie, who always made you laugh at his new jokes. though with eddie, it was anything but platonic.

you and eddie weren't exactly just friends but it wasn't labeled as any kind of relationship either. when you hung out at the houses of the other members for movie nights, he always sat next to you and cuddled. or at parties, he stood behind you the whole time with his arms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on the top of your head.

what the losers really questioned was when you all hung out and why two friends held hands in public. they didn’t even know that you also kissed his cheek when he walked you home. though a couple of times, eddie’s cheek accidentally turned and you ended up kissing him on the lips instead. neither you or eddie broke wanted to break the kisses at first and almost always continued it for a good moment or two. 

unfortunately for either of you, the kisses were never talked about. this because of the constant anxiety over potentially ruining the friendship. then again it was eddie. you were comfortable with him and knew he wouldn't hurt you or go behind your back.

some days you subtly watched him (or so you thought) when he was talking, smiling, or laughing, and you wondered if he was your soulmate. richie and beverly would catch you staring and see how much your eyes shined while gazing at him. it was a weird limbo that you've constantly tangoed with him for the past year and a half. neither wanting to overstep but constantly doing it anyway without realizing. 

it was almost like the two of you were meant to be and everything was easy. eddie knew you like the back of his hand. his very attractive hands that were covered with rings now. holyshit.

when he found you, you were going through the books in your locker. he walked up to you and slipped his arm around your waist. you smelled his cologne and leaned back into his chest, smiling that he was in your presence. eddie leaned around your side to peck a quick kiss on your cheek and that's when you noticed the blonde from the corner of your eye.

you turned around so quickly that eddie thought it gave you whiplash. you didn’t let the quick dizziness bother you and instead put your fingers through his hair. he let out a small groan at how good the small massage was and bent his knees so he could come down to your level. eddie was face to face with you and he could easily make out how memorized you were by his curls. "oh my god eds!" when you finally let go, he frowned. “is that good or bad?” he laughed nervously.

eddie grabbed your hand back from when you placed it at your side and interlocked your fingers with his. you looked down at your joined hands and curled your fingers around his tightly to give a good squeeze of reassurance and he calmed instantly. “definitely good eds, definitely.” eddie smiled sheepishly and blushed in return from your acknowledgement.

the other six members of the loser’s club stood down the hall and could see how red his cheeks were by the close proximity. "he’s lapping it up." stan rolled his eyes and spoke up to break the silence from the group watching you and eddie converse. “o-oh shu-ut it,” bill instantly knew stan was jealous that he wasn’t getting any attention from his boyfriend. the stuttering eighteen-year-old put his arm around the curly blonde-haired that he loved and it hushed him. bill smirked and watched him blush when he kissed stan’s cheek.

richie looked around at the other couples and realized he and mike were the only single one’s left. at least he hadn’t taken a ‘vow’ of celibacy like stan suggested he should do. “you think y/n will put in a good word for me with sonia when she finally gets with eddie?” richie asked and patted mike’s back which he swatted right off of him. 

beverly retrieved the purse from her locker and unzippered it to grab her chapstick. she looked over at the other’s and mumbled in response. “define finally because that could be tomorrow, a week from now, or even years at this rate.”

and that’s how it went the next couple of weeks. you and eddie would take two steps forward and then two steps back. it was a constant annoyance and the bet between the other’s grew higher every day. richie bet all of his paycheck from the arcade that he now worked at and beverly bet a couple bucks from her work at the movie theater. even bill chimed in and bet some of money he earned from the drawings that he sold to a store down in town. it was complete chaos and yet the two of you were still oblivious.

or so the other’s thought, while the eight of you were at a party now. you and eddie were both a little tipsy from drinking earlier and he was dancing rather closely with you. your small hands were placed around his neck and fingers once again laced throughout his hair. 

he held your sides delicately and his rings glistened when they hit the light. eddie's smile was infectious and every time without fail when you looked at him, you caught yourself and looked down with flushing cheeks. what the hell is happening? why does this feel different than any other time?

finally, after the third time of you doing this, he smirked knowing the effect he had on you and took one of his hands from your waist. the blonde placed his finger on the bottom of your chin and tilted your head up slowly. your eyes widened when they reached his and you tried turning but he held your gaze firm. “what’s the matter sweetheart?” he inquired so casually as if you weren’t trying to squeeze your thighs together. 

his brown eyes stared into yours, a unique shade that he always claimed was his favorite color. as he waited for your reply he glanced down and took in your outfit. he admired the way your dress hugged your curves in just the right places. you swallowed nervously at how close in contact you were and the fact you felt like he was looking right into your soul. even though you knew it that belonged with his from the start of your friendship. 

other people in school always talked in the hallways about how they thought you were soulmates and even about lying. they thought you were actually together but in denial with telling everyone because of how much you and eddie always clung to each other. like right now, you danced with him and watched as he took in a glimpse of you while feeling like your whole body was on fire. “nothing’s wrong eds, promise.”

mike and stan stood off to a corner and waited for bill and richie to bring them back drinks. beverly and ben were in their own little bubble dancing a few feet away from you and eddie. mike watched beverly and ben dance then looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow in stan’s direction. “what’s up with them?” the curly haired one looked away from mike to see you two dancing then back at him, rolling his eyes and taking the drink from bill’s hand. “i think the bet is ending tonight.”

richie dumped back his beer and input his own comment about the current topic. “hell yes! then i’m one step closer to being off the market.” he snickered but fell quiet when a girl walked by and left a lingering smell of peach fragrance behind. “b-beep beep richie!” bill nudged the trashmouth who only escalated his behavior and risked bumping into irritable stan’s shoulder.

thankfully bill’s boyfriend simply brushed it off but by doing that quite literally so, which caused richie to wholeheartedly laugh at the dramatics. trashmouth put his red cup in the area towards your direction, signaling for the others to look and they nodded. shit eating grins were on each of their faces and for once, everybody was in agreeance.

eddie glanced over at the four and shook his head. you followed his movement and chuckled at richie being over the top as usual. “want to get out of here?” he asked. it was common for the two of you to sneak off and be in your own little world with him. you smiled and let go of his neck and held out your hand for him to take. he grasped onto it and let you lead him out from the small crowd in the living room.

ten minutes later, you were sitting on eddie’s bed in his temporary room at richie’s house. you grabbed his hand and played around with the rings on his fingers. one of them caught your eye and he noticed, making a mental note to give it to you later. “so, what did you mean by the comment earlier?” you asked and cursed at the twinkle in the blonde’s eye. he gripped your side to pull you closer and your breath hitched when he leaned into the crook of your neck. 

eddie placed a feather-like kiss onto the sweet spot of your shoulder and instant goosebumps appeared all over your soft skin. you cleared your throat before you could let yourself talk incoherently. eddie grinned into your skin before looking up at you and you almost fainted at the dazed look. whispering hoarsely, you asked him, “are you sure?”

eddie nodded and that was all you needed to lean into his kissable lips. he put his hand on your cheek and moved in closer. you moaned when his tongue touched yours and he smirked. your teeth clunked with his when you roughly gripped the blonde strands on the nape of his neck. he broke apart from your lips and moved to push your shirt up, which you helped in doing and then greeted his lips again for another rough kiss. eddie palmed your perfectly molded chest and you let out a whine.

he chuckled and kissed your neck and then slowly made his way down. eddie started at the middle of where your breasts met and you shivered when his warm breath touched you. “you have no idea how-” kiss. “long,” kiss. “i’ve, kiss. “wanted,” kiss. “to,” kiss. “do,” kiss. “this,” kiss.

your body practically spasmed at the euphoria feeling of him worshipping your body. he unclipped your bra and kissed the top of your left and right breasts. moving down more, he also kissed the middle of your stomach and on each side of your waist as he slid down your ripped shorts. it was when you felt like you could orgasm from just that alone when he kissed the inside of your thighs.

“ok, ok eds. i think we’ve waited long enough!” you tried to hold on his hair to get him up from his position and for him to quicken the movements but, the smug bastard ducked at your attempt. eddie knew what he was doing when he slowly slid down your panties. he slipped a finger over your folds and you groaned when you knew that eddie now knew how easily he turned you on.

“this all for me sweetheart?” you rolled your eyes, a classic stan move but it was ruined when you smiled embarrassingly. “no eds. sorry it’s for richie.” he glared playfully at you and pulled his shirt up and off in a seductive way that shut you up instantly. holyshit. when did he start working out? he unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down, stepping out of them. your mouth watered at the sight of him after he took off his boxers.

he admired the sight of you all spread out for him then climbed back over on top of you. your skin tingled when his finger tip brushed inside your body. “so pretty, sweetheart.” eddie kissed you again with everything he had and you melted into him when he fingered faster. you felt how hard and ready he was for you when you pressed up into him after he angled and curled two fingers inside of you. he swallowed your gasps at the feeling of him continuously hitting your g-spot. “please.” you whined into his mouth. 

he looked at you and how pretty you were, which you could say the same about him but there wasn’t enough time to do so when you felt him lining up and pressing against you. eddie pushed inside of you slowly at first. it was almost painful but it stopped when you grabbed his hair and begged for him to go faster. he grabbed your wrists and put them above your head and quickened his pace inside you. 

you babbled and chanted his name when his hips hit yours harshly. eddie leaned down to kiss your shoulder and grinned wolfishly at the way you looked. “you look so pretty like this, y/n. vulnerable and breathless under me. such a good girl.” it was so overwhelming and attractive that you gripped him in a vice at the comment. it was still baffling at the fact that your best friend was fucking you. “i bet richie couldn’t fuck you like this.” you looked at him with widened eyes but didn’t deny the comment so he continued going. 

“you’re my dirty girl, aren’t you?” he wanted a response so he grabbed a big section of your hair and tugged. you nodded as he slammed into you repeatedly and you could feel a bundle in your belly working you up. eddie scooted closer in between while moving himself inside and out of you and kneeled in between your legs. he smirked at your helpless look and pushed your legs apart even further to spread them open for him. 

he looked down at you on display just for him and he moved his hand to position it down and on top of your clit. he flicked it once before rubbing and you gasped. seconds later after a few more pumps inside of you is when you released all over him with him closely following. he looked down at you with a blissful face and kissed your puffed lips that were smeared with red lipstick. eddie collapsed next to you on the side of the bed and turned on his side to look at you.

the sight of you still took his breath away. even with the smeared lip stick and messy hair. he desperately wanted to make you his.“i hope it wasn’t too much?” you poked eddie’s side at his question and he laughed. “no way eds, it was perfect.” you smiled. he cupped your face and looked into your eyes. “i know it’s kind of past asking but do you want to be my girlfriend y/n/n/?”

the next morning, you were in your boyfriend’s arms and holding a mug of coffee in your hands. the two of you broke apart at the sound of a door shutting and of course, richie appeared. he took in your appearance with eddie’s arm wrapped dangerously low around your waist. you looked at the trashmouth who was wearing a wrinkly shirt, along with his hair being all disheveled and poking up in different directions. “long night?” you asked. he snickered and pointed at ed’s your shirt and in a cocky attitude retorted back at you. “more like great night but it looks like you did too.” richie quickly walked by before you had the chance to reply. he wanted to call the others about the bet money while changing for school. before he shut his bedroom door though, richie smirked at the question eddie asked you.

“is that peaches i smell?” you shook your head at ed’s question and his hold on you tightened at your mocking. he smiled at you when you leaned back into his arm and angled your head upwards for another kiss. who knew he could have his best friend and girlfriend all in one?

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Hey! just saw your ask opening. I wanted to send prompt for Stony for marvel fics. New couple Steve/Tony,2012 Avengers. Top Tony / bottom Steve. very new relationship for Tony. Steve demands attention, pouts if Tony is late. Makes Tony eat and sleep. Always makes breakfast for Tony, takes lunch to his office sometimes. Changes things in the penthouse just a coushion or a painting and decorating. Tony feels its finally a home. Jarvis and bots treat Steve like the first lady of the tower. 1/3

Prompt Continued: Tony takes care of Steve, takes him out reintroduces him to New York, the world. Is always open for PDA. Makes Steve blush, Pulls chairs for him, opens door, kisses him on the cheek, in front of the team and Steve just turns red but cannot stop smiling. Tony is also romantic in the bedroom. Takes care of Steve but sometimes rough and feral and then Tony gets possessive and leaves hickeys. Steve gets really loud during sex and just moans and loses it, the Team laughs at and teases him for it.Steve makes sure they are always at team movie nights and dinner. Tony is just so giddy at his mother hening and holds him by the wais in the kitchen and just sways with him. Steve just makes his life worth living. He is Tony's sunshine. Tony is so thankful he asked him out and Steve said yes. Sometimes Steve just cuddles up to him and falls asleep in his arms. Cries when he is sad and Tony does everything to make him smile and just holds him. Tony falls for him harder than ever all over.

You can also find this on Archive!

Everything had changed when they finally got together. Steve often thought about that when he was wrapped in the warm arms of his lover with the familiar energy of the Arc Reactor pressed flush against his back. Tony slept so infrequently, though that too was changing, that mornings like this became time for Steve to mull over his thoughts like the slow mornings that he used to have with his mother back before she succumbed to tuberculosis. 

While Steve did miss his old life, he also enjoyed the life that he had made for himself in the future. He loved Tony with his whole heart, and was beginning to love this modern version of New York. It was easier to understand it when he had someone that he trusted so much. Tony was there every little moment when Steve became overwhelmed. He seemed to have an endless kind of patience when Steve needed something repeated to him so that he could try to understand it. Everything was so strange and different. Nothing was even remotely similar to the way that it had been when Steve was living here, and none of it was anything like the science fiction books and shows that he had seen either. To anyone else, it would have been so overwhelming that it would literally be mind-shattering. But Steve had Tony standing by his side and helping him through it, so he knew he could handle it.

When he said that Tony was the love of his life, he really meant it. He hadn’t dated that many people before his transformation into Captain America because he had been too scrawny to be appealing to anyone. Bucky had always been there, and the two of them had basically skirted around dating for their entire adult lives. He and Peggy had basically done the same thing, but he considered it a bit more like dating because they had actually been physically intimate with each other. After both of those relationships, Tony had seemed like a complete blessing.

Now, with Tony and with the change in prudence due to the times, he was allowed to show how much he loved another man without fear. He didn’t have to worry about being beaten to death or shamed because of his sexuality. He didn’t have to worry about what his friends and family were going to think about his choice in partner, other than the fact that Tony wasn’t exactly a popular person because of his own history with sex. He could enjoy their relationship and didn’t have to worry about being slightly sexual or romantic around their friends.

That being said, Tony wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be dating. He often forgot to eat or sleep at regular, human times. Steve was able to remedy that pretty well because he didn’t have a lot of other things to occupy his time. He would bring Tony meals or drag him upstairs so that his lover would eat with the rest of their friends. He also found that because he was taller than his lover, he could just pick Tony up and literally drag him to bed when it was time for sleep. Tony used to have trouble sleeping due to his trauma, both from their first fight as the Avengers and because of the events that led to him becoming Iron Man. Steve was able to sooth these as well because he had more than his fair share of trauma and PTSD from the war and his own fights. 

Outside of not knowing how to take care of himself, Tony could also be a right ass when it came to being compassionate. He had never learned how to deal with other humans when he was younger because of how isolated he had been (first because he didn’t go to public school and then because of how smart he was). They had more arguments than a lot of couples did about Tony saying or doing something that was rude and hurtful. Steve could see that he was at least making an attempt to become a better person and move on, though. 

He could see it with the way Tony stopped before he said something degrading and hurtful, and chose to say something else. He could see when Tony took a moment to do something nice for someone else that didn’t just involve spending ungodly amounts of money on them. Tony was beginning to remember things like birthdays, anniversaries, names, and the like. He had remembered the other day that Clint was deaf and spent a while learning enough ASL to get by as well as making sonic arrows that wouldn’t interfere with his hearing aide. Clint had been very touched with it, even if he did thank Steve behind the scenes. 

Tony was still a gentleman and a good person at the end of the day even if he didn’t know his way around people. He would do little things that someone might think he had an ulterior motive for. He did things like opening doors, pulling out chairs, and pretty much everything else that went with the old-timey chivalry that Steve had grown up dreaming about. 

The blond flushed a little bit as his mind strayed over to their sexual life. Tony was just as romantic and gentlemanly when it came to the bedroom as well. He would often spend hours upon hours worshipping his lover’s body and telling him how much he loved him before they got to the good part. That didn’t mean that he acted like that all the time. Every so often, Steve’s beautiful, flawed boyfriend would get so jealous that he nearly went feral. Steve still loved that kind of sex, even if it did leave him feeling sore and covered in bruises the next day. Whatever kind of sex that they had, the blond always had hickies all the way up his neck the day before.

The team was perfectly fine with their relationship as well, despite coming from all different walks of life. They were almost like Steve’s new family, even if no family would ever really be complete without Bucky. They teased the two of them, but none of them dared to go beyond a certain point like he had almost been expecting. Bucky had other friends back when they were younger and those friends used to tease the two to the point of making even Bucky cry. Steve cried easily, so that wasn’t a hard accomplishment.

The team weren’t the only inhabitants in the tower to treat him nicely, though. The bots in Tony’s lab as well as JARVIS also seemed to be kinder than normal to him. With JARVIS it could have been because Steve wasn’t very familiar with the world and so gave the AI more attention and thanks than anyone else in the tower. With the bots it was most likely because Steve remembered all of their names and would actually say hello to them when they noticed him in the lab. The blond was very fond of the bots, and even fonder of the way that his boyfriend almost treated them like his children.

Tony let out a worried noise behind him, and that brought the blond out of his thoughts for just a moment. He rolled over and placed a comforting hand on his lover’s face. Steve brought their foreheads together and let out a small, comfortable sigh. Tony wiggled closer to the warmth of the blond, burying his face into Steve’s neck. The other man chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around the small man so that he was completely enveloped in his hold. Hopefully he would stay asleep for just a little longer, and manage to get the entire eight hours of sleep that they always aimed for.

The morning sun was beginning to creep into the huge floor to ceiling windows that ringed the room, illuminating the carpet and hardwood floor. During the remodel, Steve had been there to stop Tony from doing anything too impersonal. Pepper had been good for him while she lasted, but she decided that Tony was far too much for her to deal with when he was also being a superhero on top of all of his other issues. She hadn’t been the driving force in Tony’s life that he needed, anyway. Not the way that Steve could be.

With his help, Tony’s house had been turned into something resembling a bit more of a home instead of a barren place that you would see in a magazine. It wasn’t anything big, just choosing warmer colors and thinking of practicality instead of flashy-ness when they had been repairing the damage done by Loki during the Battle of New York. After that, Steve had subtly brought in throw blankets and some of his artwork. Slowly, with the help of the superhero and the rest of their team, the penthouse suite that Tony inhabited had become a home instead of just another space to occupy.

[denerims-archive]

otp tag

Tagged by @solasan​ and @mcousland​ + definitely someone else who knows the activity page is garbage.

Tagging: whoever wants to! i’m kinda late with this and i think everyone’s been tagged but if you haven’t do this and say i tagged you!

DISAGREEMENTS.

who is more likely to raise their voice?

Naomi. I can’t see Nate ever raising his voice at her out of anger. Maybe out of worry but never anger.

who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Naomi. Better to leave than get left.

who actually keeps their word and leaves?

God, neither of them. I can see maybe Naomi telling Nate she needs to go drive around and cool down but none of them would just outright leave. Naomi might be stubborn about her feelings but she knows that Nate is someone important to her.

who trashes the house?

During an argument? Yikes neither of them. Especially Nate. He’s very conscious of how he positions himself in an argument cause he’s So Big and a vampire compared to Naomi who is very short and human. Day to day? Naomi lmao. She just leaves a trail of mess in the morning.

do either of them get physical?

God no! Naomi has to convince him to spar with her and that usually ends with Nate catching her in his arms and kissing her until she’s out of breath from laughing and has to tap out.

how often do they argue/disagree?

Not often early on but the more feelings get involved the more they have disagreements with things like how much Naomi puts herself in danger. Naomi also pushes Nate away a little out of fear when they start getting so close. Whenever Nate mentions Rebecca/tries to mend their relationship whatever his intentions it always results in a fight and a silent treatment from Naomi. Nate also gets super pissed when she doesn’t tell him things which is a hard habit to break for her.

who is the first to apologize?

Naomi usually. She’s the one who usually gets the angriest/has the most vitriol when she’s angry so once she cools down she feels absolutely awful. Apologizing with Nate is always so easy with him too and he apologizes in return and is so soft in discussing the issue after everything has simmered down. 

SEX.

who is on top? who is on bottom?

Uh...Nate is usually the more dominant person but obviously very gentle and servicing in it. He’s the person who gently directs Naomi, slows her down, makes her enjoy it which is So Much. That’s when they have time of course. When Naomi wants a quickie she’s normally the one in charge but that’s pretty rare because Nate can’t seem to grasp the quickie concept. Naomi really likes to be on top and Nate really likes to watch her ride him soooooooo...

any kinks?

Dirty talk!! Specifically Nate! His is...A+. Nothing degrading because he’d never do that for Naomi even if she wanted and honestly I don’t think it’s very healthy for Naomi to get into that since she has History with some of those words and indulging in them would be not good for her. But Nate loves sweet nothings, praising her, asking her if she likes what he’s doing/likes doing what she’s doing/etc. Naomi has also unlocked Nate’s kink of his hands being tied during sex either to each other or to the bed frame. They also really love uhhh when Nate comes inside her and all of the dirty talk that comes with that. Naomi likes to be spanked occasionally - never choked or hit beyond that - and Nate’s not really into it but he indulges her because he loves her. Nipple play, lingerie, blindfolds, etc. UH Nate is a major tease so denial/teasing too which Naomi is happy to return.

who has the strangest desires?

Naomi probably lmao! She’s more kinky than Nate is.

who’s dominant in bed?

Nate normally but they switch it up sometimes. 

is head ever in the equation?

Absolutely! Nate is the best at oral in UB and I said what I said. Naomi also really enjoys it because Nate is so loud and moany when she does it. Also he holds her hair back which is sweet.

if so, who is better at performing it?

I gotta give it to Nate.

ever had sex in public?

Nooooo. Most “public” is fooling around in various Warehouse rooms. They’ve definitely had sex like...in a private area where Nate’s pulled her but nah.

who moans the most?

Natey! Naomi takes a bit of work to get going but when she does she’s very enthusiastic but on average it’s Nate.

who leaves the most marks?

Naomi would be if they didn’t heal in like minutes which makes her very sad. Nate only leaves marks on her thighs.

who is the more experienced of the two?

I’m not sure about Nate’s entire experience but Naomi’s got a lot of experience so it’s most likely going to be her.

do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

MAKE LOVE BABY! But it’s not slow and tender all the time, they’re super passionate and needy when they smash so it’s just up in the air. But the two of them always come from a place of love when having sex sniff. Esp Nate. Naomi sometimes is like I need to not think for a bit/destress.

how long do they usually last?

I feel like Nate’s got some Stamina! Naomi’s usually the one that has to tap out but they can go pretty long like 45min? Obviously on and off not just...straight penetration the whole time.

rough or soft?

Soft! Like I said, they’re very passionate and needy and very desperate to be close to each other but they never really get rough. The roughest I can see them getting is Nate getting a bit enthusiastic esp after being apart or not getting time alone for awhile and going pretty hard? But nothing rough beyond that.

is protection used?

Yes. Naomi’s on the pill but she forgets sometimes...more than she should it just kinda slips her mind. They use condoms but not enough and honestly with Naomi begging him to come inside her every other day it’s a wonder they haven’t had an accident.

does it ever get boring?

Nah! I don’t think so. Maybe it becomes a bit quicker and more routine - they know what gets each other off - when they get married and become parents and get busy but they mix it up once in awhile when they can!

where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Back of Naomi’s car (they’re eventually successful) and the Warehouse library I guess?

FAMILY.

do they plan on having children / do they have children?

Yes absolutely! Naomi thought it wasn’t ever really in the cards for her but she met Nate and was like Oh I’m GOING to have his babies. Nate has always really wanted kids and he can’t imagine having them with anyone but Naomi anymore.

if so, how many children do they want/have?

They have four! Alice is the first and the two of them are so incredibly excited. Holden is born about three years after Alice - the two of them kind of wanted to settle into parenting before they added another kid to the pile lmao. Their third - Watson - is a surprise! A pleasant surprise but a surprise nonetheless. Naomi’s pregnant with him about a year after Holden is born and then two years after Holden their little baby Josephine is born!

AFFECTION.

who likes to cuddle?

Naomi!! She loves to cuddle him all the time especially when they’re reading/she’s doing work on her laptop/etc. She’s so comfortable and relaxed when they cuddle it’s very sweet. She feels super safe with him.

who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

NATE. He’s the worst and so smooth about it and just looks at Naomi’s exasperation with the warmest, sweetest smile of bemusement. 

who struggles to keep their hands to themself?

Nate! Not just in naughty~ terms but just in general he’s so touchy. It takes a bit for Naomi to get used to it but she really loves it because she’s so starved for it. It just makes her AHEM blush when it’s in front of other people which she hates! (the blushing pls Nate give her another kiss in front of everyone)

how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

God, forever. As long as Naomi can play on her phone/read a book and Nate can read too. They loooove cuddling it’s disgusting. Sometimes they gotta shift though if Nate’s arm goes asleep or smth.

what is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Reading together! Cooking together! Nate loves binge-watching shows with Naomi because he gets so invested and he loves Naomi’s shows she introduces him too. They binge a ton of shows for date nights. They also love to go on walks together and possibly even some hikes. 

where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Bed! Or anywhere really in Naomi’s place. They’re alone and they can just be themselves and are all safe and warm. Nate and Naomi really love having a place of their own esp Naomi.

SLEEPING.

who snores?

Nate softly snores sometimes! 

if both do, who snores the loudest?

Naomi probably only snores when she’s drunk and it’s LOUD.

do they share a bed or sleep separately?

They eventually share a bed (BED SHARING WHEN). Naomi is an insomniac but she sleeps really well with Nate. They help soothe away each other’s nightmares and hold each other. 

if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Cozy together at first but as their relationship progresses they lay what’s comfortable to them but the thing is they always have to be touching even a little bit. They’ll lay back to back and Nate will have his hand behind him on her hip or smth like that. 

what do they wear to bed?

Well, we know Nate loves some silky matching pajamas!! (Naomi loves them too) Naomi typically sleeps in sleep shorts and a t-shirt or just a t-shirt and underwear. Naomi won’t sleep in Nate’s t-shirt but she’ll grab them if she’s getting up to go start tea in the morning.

are either of them insomniacs?

Naomi is! She used to take pills for it back when she was first getting over her mental health issues but she stopped taking them because she didn’t like the way they made her feel. Nate just doesn’t sleep as much as normal humans do.

can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

I’m not sure if Naomi would ever go back on them tbh. 

do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Nate wants to hold Naomi ALL the time so he’s like a little octopus. She gets in bed and he’s pulling her close. Like I said, later they lay side by side in a way that’s comfy for each other but they always have to be touching. Sometimes, one of them will wake up and reach out just to make sure the other’s still there. 

who wakes up with bed hair?

NATEY! It’s very cute and Naomi idly smooths it over, runs her fingers through it and then messes it up again when they’re waking up and still in bed. One time, Rebecca came to drop something off for Naomi early one morning and Nate came out with bed hair in his pajamas from her bedroom since he didn’t know she was there and that was the most awkward experience of Naomi’s life.

who wakes up first?

Naomi during the weekdays/days she has to work and Nate on the days neither of them have to work! Whoever’s up puts the kettle on and gets the mail/newspaper, waters the plants, etc.

who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Nate!! It’s his Thing and he definitely did it the first time they slept together. Naomi teased him about it but kissed him and told him that she loved it and it was very sweet of him. She’s never had someone make her breakfast in bed before so Nate tries to do it as often as he can.

what is their favourite sleeping position?

Nate on his back with Naomi curled into his side is their default! Spooning is also a thing and they flip-flop who spoons who. Sometimes they shift during the night and it changes. When Naomi cuts her hair in Book 3 it makes it 10x easier since Nate isn’t choking on her hair lmao.

do they set an alarm each night?

Yep! Naomi sets one on her phone. Naomi pats him and tells him to turn it off sometimes and honestly that makes sure she gets up because Nate spends like ten minutes trying to turn the alarm off. 

who has nightmares?

Both. Naomi’s are more often but Nate’s are more intense and really bad on the rare occasion they happen.

can a television be found in their bedroom?

Nope. I think for Nate that would be a hard no. Naomi reads when she goes to bed instead of watching TV because it helps her fall asleep so I can’t see her really wanting one either.

who has ridiculous dreams?

Nate seems like he’d have weird dreams and loves telling them to Naomi over breakfast. I feel like they love jokingly analyzing each other’s dreams too even if they don’t actually believe in that stuff. Naomi looks up those dream meaning sites on her phone and very seriously tells Nate is prognosis is not good.

who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Nate. Even not sprawled out he takes up so much of their bed dgdskjgg. Luckily, Naomi’s pretty compact so it doesn’t affect her much. His legs will tangle up with hers though while he sleeps or he splays them out.

who makes the bed?

Nate! Naomi just lets him do it because she’s learned whenever she protests him doing stuff for her he insists he loves her and just wants to make things easier on her. Naomi rolls her eyes, Nate gives her a kiss and continues doing what he’s doing. It’s just best not to argue.

what time is bed time?

They get into bed EARLY if they can cause they’re Old People (™), Naomi usually doesn’t fall asleep for hours and sits there reading/working on her laptop/etc. Nate will usually fall asleep first and Naomi follows after at around 11/12.

any routines/rituals before bed?

I guess reading together before bed counts? Nate always kisses Naomi’s forehead or cheek before he goes to bed and tells her he loves her. It’s to the point where smth happens where Nate doesn’t get to kiss her before bed and Naomi’s like….:( wait smth’s not right.

who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

NAOMI. Nate is a sunshiney morning person and she loves him but that’s the one time she wants to strangle him.

WORK.

who is the busiest?

It depends what’s going on! So much of their work depends on other factors that are out of their control but Naomi is busy most of the time. Nate has more free time than she does and that’s why he likes to help out around her apartment/their house more to carry his share of the load!

who rakes in the highest income?

I assume...Nate might make more since Naomi is new to the Agency?

are any of them unemployed?

Nope!

who takes the most sick days?

Sick days? Water those? Naomi is such a workaholic she’s that dickhead who comes into work sick and gets everyone else sick. Nate has to force her to stay in bed when she’s sick and has even called the station to let them know she’s not coming in (Douglas can hear Naomi telling him to give her the phone in the background before he hands up dlkgjsdkg)

what are their jobs?

Naomi is an Agency Liason and Detective. Nate is an Agent of the Agency!

who sucks up to their boss?

Naomi has 0 patience for sucking up anymore. She used to when she was younger but she’s disillusioned with the Captain and Adam and her don’t get along/disagree on a lot of stuff. She really needs to respect you for her to suck up to you.

who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Neither of them really? Maybe Naomi is slightly more likely to. Naomi loves to try and get Nate to stay in bed just a little bit longer and sometimes those efforts lead to  the two of them forgetting they actually have jobs to go to.

who stresses the most?

Both! They both hide it really well too but they’ve both caught onto the signs of them being stressed. Naomi starts smoking a lot and Nate can smell it on her. Nate is a bit more reserved than he normally is and has little tics that Naomi catches on.

do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

Naomi likes it because it challenges her but I don’t think she likes a lot of the bureaucracy and paperwork of either being a detective or agent. She also likes the idea of following in her father’s footsteps and that’s why she joined the force. She originally was going to be a social worker but kinda went the easier path after her bad years. It made her feel connected to her father which she really needed. I think Nate really likes his job! Naomi’s distrust of the Agency might cause a little friction. 

are they financially stable?

Naomi isn’t at first just because she’s denied her mother’s financial help for a long time but they eventually are very financially stable together. They’re both good at planning and money...besides Nate’s expensive tastes.

HOME.

who does the washing?

Naomi! She usually just throws a load in when she’s done with a shower or heading to work. Nate folds and puts them away though!

who takes out the trash?

Naomi! She usually takes it on her way out. 

who does the ironing?

Nate! He’s very good at it and can do some mean pleats. Naomi hates ironing things so he’s happy to do it.

who does the cooking?

Nate! Like I said he’s a great cook and loves to cook for Naomi. It’s mostly him but they love to cook together. Naomi will occasionally try and make dinner for the two of them but rarely.

who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Naomi! She’d forget about it or smth. 

who is messier?

Naomi! She leaves shit everywhere and never has time/patience/motivation to clean up. It admittedly drives Nate a little nuts.

who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Neither. 

who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Naomi! Specifically in the bathroom because she comes home and just wants to shower some days especially being out on patrol with Bravo. Just shucks off her clothes and goes. They both pick them up when they have a second or remember.

who forgets to flush the toilet?

Uh…..neither lmao. 

who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

NAOMI. She gets very pissy too and it’s usually somewhere that’s obvious and Nate’s like “...honey?”. 

who answers the telephone?

Naomi! She doesn’t have a landline and Nate can’t use his cellphone so she even answers his phone for him. 

who mows the lawn?

Nate! He loves doing like...Stereotypical Husband/Dad stuff. (Note: he is very bad at repairing things, that’s Naomi’s job)

who does the vacuuming?

It depends on who has time! Usually Nate.

who does the groceries?

Naomi! They like doing it together though especially when they have a special recipe they’re cooking up that night. 

who takes the longest to shower?

Nate. Naomi takes pretty quick showers. Naomi tends to sneak into his showers and makes him take a loooot longer.

who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Both of them take a long time tbh. About the same time normally. Naomi maybe takes a little longer if she’s putting special effort into her hair/makeup for the day.

MISCELLANEOUS.

is money a problem?

Early on for Naomi maybe a little (not terribly so) but later on when they’re together no their combined salaries make them pretty stable.

how many cars do they own?

Just one originally - Naomi’s shitty little baby car. They trade it in eventually for just a regular nice car and when Naomi gets pregnant they buy a second car that’s a Suburban to cram all their kids in.

what’s their song?

Tiny Dancer by Elton John (don’t ask I hear it and I think of them), Beautiful by Bazzi, Love You Like That by Dagny, Without Fear by Dermot Kennedy

do they live in the city or in the country?

Small town, I guess!

do they own their home or do they rent?

Naomi rents an apartment and I think the Agency owns the Warehouse? When the two of them get married, Nate buys a house in Wayhaven for them to fix up! It’s very cute and has a big yard.

do they enjoy their surroundings?

Naomi....hates Wayhaven to say the least. Gossip hound neighbors, uncooperative mayor, bad memories, her stupid ex...she just wants to move anywhere but she’s so attached to this town. Nate really loves Wayhaven and weirdly helps Naomi see the beauty in her town again? 

what do they do when they’re away from each other?

God, miss each other so much. Naomi less so, she’s used to being pretty independent but ofc she still misses him. She can at least get shit done. Nate is the worst because he’s mooning over her on a mission and the rest of UB complains about it. Makes one of the others call Naomi on his cell every night so they can Facetime. Naomi flashes him her tits. Nate is okay with this one piece of technology. Though one time Naomi does try to get freaky and Nate very loudly goes “HEY ADAM’S HERE! SAY HI TO ADAM!” Adam: :| 

where did they first meet?

Abandoned warehouse in Book 1, babey! She shoots her future husband’s best friend in the shoulder. It takes awhile for those two to like each other obviously.

who spends the most money when out shopping?

NATE. Bougie king. Naomi teases him about it too but she also gets the benefit of his obnoxious thread count sheets, giant bath and him smelling faintly of expensive cologne and body wash all the time. So, Naomi quit complaining.

who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Dkgjsg Naomi does this all the time because it’s too entertaining not to. If it’s when other people are around she’s sending him Signals or doing stuff like that Nate gets all flustered and leans his chin on his hand and tries to cover up the little smirk he has. Raises his eyebrows at her and gets That Look.

any mental issues?

Well, Nate clearly has some kind of PTSD due to his fear of storms/other very obvious factors. Naomi has pretty severe depression and honestly probably a little touch of BPD. She also has some anxiety (not as bad as the depression) but enough that she bites her nails down and has to paint them/get fake ones so she doesn’t ruin her teeth.

who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Nate usually just catches Naomi and has a little smile that she jokingly glares at him for. Naomi tries...so hard not to laugh but Nate is...so not graceful some times. Like a baby giraffe. He legs too long for he gotdam bodee.

who’s terrified of bugs?

Naomi! DISGOSTHANG.

who kills the spiders around the house?

Nate! But he usually gets a cup and a piece of paper and takes it outside. Naomi usually loves that he’s gentle but also will die if he comes close with that thing. He’s always like, “See, it just wants to go back outside.” And Naomi’s got the most unamused face while she’s standing on the couch sdgsjkg.

do they have any fears for their future?

Uh...yeah definitely. Besides the normal ya know, being kidnapped/murdered for her blood, Naomi is...terrified that Nate will come to his senses and leave her. She has horrible fears of abandonment and not being worthy. She’s just...always waiting for the shoe to drop. Nate is also terrified for her safety but also worried a lot for her mental state the more he learns about her past. He loves her and supports her and wants to stay with her for...eternity if she lets that happen. Of course, that’s also a fear that Naomi might not want to live forever and see all her family and friends die. That it might exacerbate her already lonely, heartbroken, abandoned nature. That he’ll doom her to a life she doesn’t want just because she loves him. Ha ha...anyways.

their favourite place?

They of course both love the Warehouse but they love Naomi’s apartment because it’s just them and they get some privacy. Just a detective and her vampire...playin house.

who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Nate! He cooks for Naomi so much! She offhandedly told him once that she doesn’t usually have time to cook with how busy she is (also...the Depression) so he’s always surprising her when she comes home. It’s very special when he buys all the ingredients and they cook together because Naomi likes to cook it’s just such an effort! Good date nights for them is cooking a new recipe tbh.

who pays the bills?

Nate tries to pay them all but Naomi splits them.

who’s the tallest?

Natey! He teases Naomi about it sometimes. They’ve got a foot height difference.

who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Naomi! She loves sneaking into the shower with Nate not even just for some naughty times but she loves bathing with Nate. He’ll wash her hair for her and she’ll do the same for him. It’s about….the caregiving.

who wanders around in their underwear?

Naomi! But I’m fixated on Nate getting comfortable at her place enough to wander around in his boxers. 

who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Naomi!!!!! Nate just sits there and stares at her and lets her sing to him because he’s a big puppy who’s in love.

what do they tease each other about?

Nate’s teasing is so gentle and has no real weight to it. Like teasing Naomi about being such a workaholic and trying to get her to bed. Naomi calls Nate really goofy as hell pet names that are purposefully cringey but shh Nate secretly likes any pet name Naomi calls him. They typically are just pretty flirty teasing esp poking each other when they’re trying to focus on smth or they’ll be reading in the library and Naomi will catch his eyes and wiggle her eyebrows. Nate’ll counter back with something like “You know I can’t concentrate with you looking at me like that.” Naomi also gets a little flirty and competitive when it comes to games or any kind of challenge which makes Nate SWEAT.

who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Well, we all know Nate is the best dressed member of Bravo and Naomi is usually pretty well-dressed if somewhat minimalistic and plain. I don’t think either of them really would unless Naomi was in a slump and clearly like...not practicing self care and Nate noticed. Nate just doesn’t seem like a Judgy person unless it’s a symptom of smth else.

who crushed first?

Natey! Naomi was close behind though it didn’t really hit her for a while.

any alcohol or substance related problems?

Naomi used to rely a lot on alcohol in her teenage years/college days so she’s pretty aware of that dependence and doesn’t really get drunk very much. She also smokes - though she tries to hide it like she’s a teenager still living in her mother’s house lmao. I can’t see Nate having any kind of those problems esp with vampire metabolism.

who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Naomi! When she does drink it’s usually a night out with Tina and Nate is very sweet about. Makes her drink a glass of water and take an aspirin (much to her displeasure) before getting her in bed.

who swears the most?

Naomi, obviously lmao. Usually when she’s exasperated. It’s normally when she’s Tired of Shit and not an angry thing really? I don’t see her cursing when she fights with someone either.

[fremedon]

Brickclub I.5.11, “Christus Nos Liberavit”

“At the point we have now reached in this painful tragedy, there is nothing left of the Fantine she once was. Sinking into the mire, she has hardened into stone.”

The governing image for our martyr characters, marble, meets the governing image of the whole novel, with a tense change just to make sure we notice--as @meta-squash points out, it’s the first time in this book Hugo has used the present tense for a passage of narrative within the story’s timeframe, not just for an apostrophe to the reader.

And what a passage. It goes on:

“Anyone who touches her feels cold. She passes by, enduring you, ignoring you. She is the stern figure of disgrace. Life and the social order have said all they have to say to her. Everything that will happen to her has happened. She has been through everything, borne everything, sustained everything, suffered everything, lost everything, mourned everything. She is resigned with a resignation that resembles indifference as death resembles sleep. There is nothing more she shrinks from, nothing more she fears. Let the whole rain-cloud come down on her and the entire ocean sweep over her! What does she care? She is a saturated sponge.

This at least is what she believes, but it is a mistake to imagine that fate has no more in store and that there is a limit to everything.”

She has made herself marble, and it’s not enough to keep her from being hurt. She is the man overboard, but she’s not finished drowning.

The previous chapters were Fantine’s barricade; this one is what follows the barricade: her sewer, where she throws herself into degradation and horror, in order to keep it from engulfing her child.

The association of prostitution with the sewers was a pretty common metaphor in canon era: they were both seen as a sort of public infrastructure, a necessary, if disgusting, convenience for keeping the public’s...effluvia, shall we say...from backing up into public view. Parent-Duchâtelet, who conducted the landmark public health study of Paris’s prostitutes, applied for the job on the basis of having already conducted the landmark public health study of the sewers of Paris, and he drew that connection explicitly.

And since this is such a short chapter, I’m going to go off on a little bit of a tangent. Fantine is still associated with Enjolras here through the marble imagery, but now she’s prefiguring Valjean’s descent into the mire.

On Discord, we’ve been talking about the images and concepts that recur and develop enough to almost be characters in their own right--the sewers, the barricade, Waterloo, Providence, etc., and that discussion has turned a couple of times to Tarot. I think it’s a productive way at looking at and distinguishing the types of mirroring and doubling Hugo uses. Not--let me be very clear--that I think he was deliberately building on Tarot imagery in any systematic way. He clearly knew of it, and of some medieval card imagery that didn’t make the standard decks, but he doesn’t draw on it as a system.

As a shorthand for Hugo’s homegrown system of references, though, I keep coming back to it. There’s a difference between the sort of mirroring where he puts characters through the same scenario or into the same tableau--or back into the same tableau in a new role--and the sort where he associates them with the same archetype, or with a reversed/mirrored form of the same archetype. I’m starting to think of the first kind as Hugo’s minor arcana and the second as the major arcana.

So Fantine's descent enacts the same minor arcana scenario with Cosette that Valjean will later enact with Marius. Fantine and Enjolras, who are associated with each other through repeated imagery and description, are two aspects of the same major arcana figure--let’s call it the Martyr. They each sacrifice everything for Future, another figure of the major arcana and possibly the most powerful, after Providence--in the abstract, that’s the republic or Progress; as a person, Cosette; as something in between, Patria or France.  

You could also call this one Hope: the thing that, when you have lost it, you die of despair.

Cosette’s zero-sum game with Éponine, who can only be strong when she is weak and vice versa, represents a reversal of that figure, the inverse of Hope. And I think in this book that’s not actually despair; despair is the absence of hope, not its dark mirror. The reversal is Fatalité. I’m going to come back to that over the next few chapters as we meet Javert again, because I think, as much as Javert represents the abstraction of the Law, the Law in this book represents one facet of fatalité, and Javert and Éponine’s doubling is meant to underline that. 

[dweemeister]

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

There is an abandoned building at 1127 E 31st St. in Kansas City, Missouri. That 1922 building, made up of red brick and mortar, would have met the wrecking ball long ago, if not for its historical value. For one year, it housed the Laugh-O-Gram Studio, founded by Walt Disney and the first job in animated film for several people who would become instrumental in shaping the American animation industry. Alongside Disney, the Laugh-O-Gram staff included:

Ubbe “Ub” Iwerks, who co-created Mickey Mouse and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit with Walt. Ub stayed with the Disney studios as an animator or special effects specialist through Mary Poppins (1964);

Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, who founded Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies with Warner Bros. in the 1930s under producer Leon Schlesinger, later moving to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM);

and Friz Freleng, who joined Harman and Ising and Warner Bros and MGM as principally a director, while introducing or developing most of the central Looney Tunes characters.

All of these figures would shape the environment for animated talkies into the midcentury. But Laugh-O-Gram could not survive the financial obstacles that led to the studio’s closure after only a year. Go back and watch the Laugh-O-Gram shorts and you will find imaginative, rowdy stories paired with movements as fluid as animators not named Winsor McCay (1914’s Gertie the Dinosaur, 1918’s The Sinking of the Lusitania) could draw in the early 1920s. Laugh-O-Gram’s last film, Alice’s Wonderland (1923), was never released commercially to the public and – considering its hybrid of animation and live-action footage – demonstrates the influence McCay had over Disney and his fellow animators.

Later in 1923, Walt submitted Alice’s Wonderland to Margaret Winkler, whose Winkler Productions was the leading animated short film distributor of the time. Winkler had just fallen out professionally with Pat Sullivan, the co-creator of Felix the Cat. Needing a quick replacement and charmed by the animated frenzy surrounding the hybrid animation/live-action Alice, Winkler signed Walt Disney and his Laugh-O-Gram team (including child actress Virginia Davis) to produce the Alice Comedies short film series (1923-1927, including 1923’s Alice’s Wonderland) in Hollywood. These films, Disney’s first taste of commercial triumph, shared little resemblance to Lewis Carroll’s novels Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, except for the curiosity of the title character and the fantastical situations she might find herself in. After the end of the Alice Comedies series and the formation of Walt Disney Productions (now Walt Disney Animation Studios), Walt wished to adapt Carroll’s books – which he had been familiar with since his childhood in Missouri – into a feature film. Outside forces delayed the project, including the box office failure of Paramount’s live-action Alice in Wonderland (1933) and the creative and fiscal burdens that his studio had to bear during World War II.

During this time, Walt resigned himself to the fact that any animated adaptation of Carroll’s novels, more interested in illogic and wordplay than any sensible storytelling, would not reach the artistic heights of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). His long wait to adapt Alice in Wonderland as a feature film would end in 1951, with the film co-directed by Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, and Hamilton Luske. A stellar voice cast, mixture of storybook and unusual animation, and an acceptance of its own absurdity make Alice in Wonderland one of the best non-Golden Age Disney animated features.

Alice (voiced by Kathryn Beaumont) is a child, probably ten years of age give or take. She is one of the youngest protagonists in Disney’s animated canon and a rare human female lead without monarchical ties or aspirations. Her story is simply a fantastical dream of her subconscious’ creation. Thus, freed from the limitations and expectations of the “real world”, Alice in Wonderland – and the novels it was adapted from – is an episodic series of nonsensical encounters of the various characters that inhabit Alice’s Wonderland. This posed a dilemma for the Disney animators and the army of writers on the film. How does one make Alice, whose only notable characteristics include her naïveté and incurable curiosity, a more interesting character than what Lewis Carroll wrote? With the animators and writers finding no answer, Disney’s Alice is just as reactive (as opposed to proactive) as Carroll’s characterization for her. Inane things happen to and around her, infrequently because of her own initiative; anyone expecting the studio’s first female lead to write down names, possess a sharp wit, and kick ass might need to recalibrate said expectations given the source material.

This discourse wades into questions about literary fidelity in cinema – no standard formula exists for how literature should be adapted to a film. To adapt Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass as faithfully as possible would be to invite structural and tonal chaos. Carroll’s numerous poetic asides, extremely abrupt (and, to me, exhausting) tonal shifts, and his near-complete dedication to exposition whenever nonsense is not present does not make for a digestible film. The Alice in Wonderland that audiences have enjoyed since 1951 presents its developments far out of any Carroll’s narrative order. The tone and individual moments remain Carroll-esque, but, upon release, British critics savaged the film for degrading Carroll’s best-known works (more on this later). Yet by my judgment and familiarity with Carroll’s books (which, to reiterate, are not concerned about character development) Disney’s animated version is the best cinematic adaptation in line with the Carroll’s artistic intentions.

Alice in Wonderland is best seen as a quasi-Disney package film filled with one-upmanship in its animation. A distracted Walt was barely aware of day-by-day developments during production, and thus did not rein in some of the animated excess Alice in Wonderland is now justly acclaimed for. For the second consecutive entry in the Disney animated canon, Mary Blair’s concept art (1950’s Cinderella, 1953’s Peter Pan) is principally responsible for what the background animators would adopt. In the bookend scenes outside Wonderland, the lush, foliage-filled backgrounds recall her work during Disney’s package era, and are easily the most “realistic” backgrounds since the inimitable Bambi (1942). Once the film descends into Wonderland, the background animators, attempting to convert her concept art into cel animation, attempt (but fail to) replicate the characteristic flatness of her concept art.

But for everything else integral to Blair’s artwork – the lack of straight lines, highly stylized architectural and natural features, and detonation of colors – the background animators (who would be assigned specific scenes) faithfully render her style as closely as they can without completely making Alice in Wonderland a modernist phantasmagoria. The film is an overload of colorful experimentation. Just choose from any one of the scenes involving the White Rabbit’s house, the Caterpillar’s toadstool hideaway, the tea party, or the Queen of Hearts’ domain and one is subject to a visual cacophony of inspired production design and artistic audacity. It can be overwhelming, but Wonderland’s locales represent some of the greatest examples of settings-as-character in almost all of animated cinema.

Alice’s Wonderland, however, is nothing without the characters that dwell within. Some of the most impressive character designs of Disney’s mid-century animated films appear in this film, thanks mostly to two of the “Nine Old Men” – Ward Kimball (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1971’s Bedknobs and Broomsticks) and Frank Thomas (1940’s Pinocchio, 1977’s The Rescuers) – and Norm Ferguson (“Dance of the Hours” in 1940’s Fantasia, 1953’s Peter Pan). Because of the sheer number of characters that Thomas and Kimball designed and directed on this film (and this is not even mentioning several other fellow directing animators), I will focus on two specific characters of theirs.

For Norm Ferguson, he is the sole directing animator of the Walrus and the Carpenter, the characters from the eponymous segment imparted to Alice by Tweedledee and Tweedledum (itself an adaptation of Carroll’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter” poem within Through the Looking-Glass). As a study of differences, the designs of both characters give their personalities away even if one were to mute the audio or view a still image. The Carpenter – scrawny, scruffy, and short – telegraphs his dimwittedness and gullibility from his opening moments on-screen. Adding to that visual characterization is that he shares a voice actor, J. Pat O'Malley, and a squeaky, honky timbre with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. O’Malley also voices the Walrus, but adjusts his delivery to a throaty bass, interspersed with the coughing one expects from a chain-smoker, let alone a chain-smoking walrus. The Walrus – appropriately rotund (as walruses should be) with a kitschy suit – is a charming fellow, but beneath that charm are his occasional all-knowing smirks that belie selfish intentions. Ferguson’s clashing character animation for both, in addition to the morbid comedy of “The Walrus and the Carpenter”, are a brilliant complement the abridged poem used in the scene. Alice in Wonderland would be Norman Ferguson’s penultimate film with the studio before his retirement due to complications with diabetes.

With Alice in Wonderland, Frank Thomas is the directing animator for the movie’s antagonist for the second straight Disney animated feature. The techniques and artistry used for Cinderella’s Lady Tremaine and the Queen of Hearts – voiced deliciously (and boisterously) by Disney regular Verna Felton (Dumbo’s Mrs. Jumbo and the Elephant Matriarch, Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother) – could not be any more different. Where Lady Tremaine was heavily rotoscoped in her movements and facial expressions, there is nothing realistic about the Queen of Hearts’ physicality. As a buxom bundle of waving limbs, she has arguably the most fleshy and expressive face in a 1950s Disney animated feature. In that face, in Felton’s iconic voice acting, we find a crazed monarch who desperately needs to see a therapist to contain her volcanic temper. Thomas’ character design sells the Queen of Hearts’ mood swings – perfunctory courteousness, egomania, pettiness, and bloodlust (“Off with his head!”). Thus, she becomes Disney’s closest analogue to the uptight and pretentious narcissists that the likes of Bugs Bunny or, to a lesser extent, Daffy Duck might have brought down to size in a Looney Tunes short film. How fortunate that the Queen of Hearts only appears in Alice in Wonderland’s concluding stages; an entire film dedicated to her (please do not pass this hypothetical along to a Walt Disney Company executive) would be a wearisome indulgence.

The last masterstroke of character design is thanks to Ward Kimball. Kimball, shortly about to revert his focus from feature animation to television and the Disney theme parks, was the principal designer of the Cheshire Cat. The wide-grinning Cheshire Cat, voiced by Sterling Holloway (Kaa in 1967’s The Jungle Book, the original voice of Winnie the Pooh), is a distinctive swirl of purple and pink stripes, his yellow eyes giving off a blazing glare. As opposed to the Queen of Hearts, the Cheshire Cat – no more or less peculiar than any other inhabitant of Wonderland – rarely stands on his hind legs. Instead, he prefers to perch himself, stomach-first, and limit his non-facial physical movements. With Holloway’s mellifluous voice acting, the physics-bending Cheshire Cat is not the sort to be vengeful or unleash verbal fire and brimstone. But with his capabilities of troublemaking for his own personal entertainment, he is the least predictable and perhaps most dangerous character of all. Depending on the viewer, the Cheshire Cat can be seen as a darkly comic figure and/or the film’s greatest source of malevolence, however restrained.

After watching Alice in Wonderland more than most Disney animated films over the course of my lifetime, I still struggle over how to categorize Kimball’s magical cat. Certainly, Cheshire Cat is an antagonist, but do his actions place him in the pantheon of Disney villains? Reading Carroll’s books and noting – however circuitously – Cheshire Cat helps Alice become “unlost”, perhaps being considered a trickster will suffice.

The soundtrack to Alice in Wonderland contains the greatest number of songs (sixteen from a potential thirty) in the entire Disney animated feature canon. That is partly due to the length of these compositions – clocking in, in several instances, at just under or over one minute – and that more than a handful of these songs are adaptations (partial or complete) of a Lewis Carroll poem. Disney hired a battalion of Tin Pan Alley composers and lyricists to pen/adapt songs around Carroll’s poems, but just over half of the songs were composed by Sammy Fain (“Secret Love” in 1953’s Calamity Jane, “Love is a Many-Splendored Thing” from the 1955 film of the same name) set to Bob Hilliard’s (“Civilization”, also known as “Bongo, Bongo, Bongo (I Don’t Want to Leave the Congo)”) lyrics. Among their mostly original compositions, Fain and Hilliard are responsible for the title song, “In a World of My Own”, and “Painting the Roses Red”, among several other earworms utilizing Carroll’s poetry.

Debatably Alice in Wonderland’s ultimate earworm is the original song “A Very Merry Un-birthday” by Mack David, Al Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston (the trio also composed “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo in 1950’s Cinderella). Because of this song’s affiliation with a certain ride at the Disney theme parks, you, the reader, might already be very familiar with the song’s melody without ever watching Alice in Wonderland. Sung raucously by the Mad Hatter and March Hare (incredible voice acting by Ed Wynn and Jerry Colonna, respectively) alongside Alice, the “unbirthday song” is even more jaunty, celebratory, and devilishly catchy than “Happy Birthday” itself. With this lengthy soundtrack, Alice in Wonderland’s songs completely overshadow and are referenced across Oliver Wallace’s (the notorious title song and score to 1942’s Der Fuehrer’s Face, 1963’s The Incredible Journey) score. For such a riotous and absurd movie, the film contains an equally riotous and absurd soundtrack to empower all of its nonsense.

The qualities that have made Alice in Wonderland treasured by many (including yours truly) today are the exact same ones that British literary and film critics took issue with in 1951. This Alice eviscerates Lewis Carroll’s literary vision and it is too “American”, these critics wrote. Walt Disney, years removed from his namesake studio’s Golden Age animated features (an era where he might have considered the words of academic and critics), now could not care less.

Walt’s distaste for academic and critics in the second half of his career began after musical and film critics pilloried Fantasia (1940). But his disdain for such individuals was fully realized after their response to the innovative and controversial Song of the South (1946) – which Walt intended as a hurrah for the American folklore that colored his childhood. Even upon Song of the South’s release, protesters and picketers decried the film for sentimentalizing the lives of black people in the immediate postbellum American South. “The master-and-slave relation is so lovingly regarded in your yarn,” New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther wrote, “… that one might almost imagine that you figure Abe Lincoln made a mistake. Put down that mint julep, Mr. Disney.” Disney took this wave of criticism over Song of the South personally, and convinced himself that supposedly communist enemies from rival studios and hostile sociopolitical circles were inflaming these attacks against his films and his studio. How dare these people, Walt must have thought, tell the inventor of Mickey Mouse and the man who gave Hugh Harman, Rudolf Ising, and Friz Freleng their first jobs in animated cinema what he could or could not do artistically. Walt Disney could justly say he laid the foundation for American animated cinema in Kansas City – before Burbank, before the overcrowded studio in Hyperion – all those years ago, which must have fueled his pride and dismissal of his naysayers.

In an earlier decade, Walt – especially when noting that Carroll’s work was integral to his start in animated film in the 1920s – might have publicly lashed out to the polarized response that met Alice in Wonderland. Now, Walt had compartmentalized his feelings. And as Alice in Wonderland made its way through theaters, a long-gestating animated feature featuring a canine romance was finally moving forward. Another film, made possible due to the windfalls from Cinderella, had just been greenlit, and would not see completion until decade’s end.

Although not successful in its theatrical run, Alice in Wonderland became the first Disney film to rejuvenate its reputation in the popular mindset through television. TV became widespread in the United States and Britain after the Second World War and, with it, Walt Disney would use the medium to broadcast his older films, to alter popular perceptions of his own persona and personal history, and to employ idealized images and storytelling in telling the story of his namesake studio. Removed from the cultural discourse dominating airwaves and headlines in the early 1950s, viewers in the decades following Alice in Wonderland’s release can now appreciate the film’s role in the Disney animated canon. Alice in Wonderland is a demented classic that, because of its narrative-unfriendly content, has influenced few films following it. The film adjusts Lewis Carroll’s books in ways that pay homage to his writing, but also to chart a colorful course for viewers and Disney fans as cinematically as possible.

My rating: 9/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

This is the twenty-first Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include The Kid (1921), Cinderella (1950), and The Sound of Music (1965).

[chicagoindiecritics]

New Written Review from Mike Crowley on You’ll Probably Agree: 10 Reasons Why ‘Blade Runner 2049’ is better than ‘Blade Runner’

If you haven’t’ seen the movie, see it then read this. No intro, let’s jump right in.

1. K is a replicant

The reveal of K’s genetic code, or lack thereof, flips everything we assume the movie will be on its head. We are learning along with K what it means to exist. Do we as humans, live like replicants? Do we obey a society that treats us like trash but breath anyways out of the fear of death? Where we viewed “Blade Runner” mostly through Deckard’s eyes who didn’t have much of a personality, K’s lack of a character is his entire purpose for existing. For K to emote is to face death.

Where Harrison Ford’s Deckard entire arc was us questioning if he’s human or not (despite what Ridley Scott unequivocally says), there’s nothing much of substance to Officer Deckard. He gets drunk, retires replicants, that’s it. Name one thing that makes Deckard standout? I’ll wait. Ryan Gosling’s Officer K goes from a machine that is dying spiritually on the inside to someone wanting to have a purpose in life. All while maintaining his composure, if perhaps too much poise for the film. Anything with a conscious can feel. Whether or not how it was made is as relevant as where you were born or what skin color you are. The importance is that you’re here.

K doesn’t seek gratitude nor affirmation. He doesn’t suffer from a narcissistic personality. All he wants is not just to be another useless piece of metal.

2. Deckard has depth this time

Being a daddy changes you a lot. Rick isn’t just a slouchy drunk who likes to shoot robots out of legal obligation. He’s a man who’s principles and love for forbidden things cost him his life. What kind of soul did Deckard have in the first film? Who did he care for? Please don’t say, Rachel, we all know why he was attracted to Rachel. Like Winston in 1984, Deckard rejects Big Brother for a life of pain to gain a glimmer of happiness. 

3. It’s horrifyingly relevant

Denis Villeneuve based the imagery in 2049 on a planet that has become degraded with pollution. The buildings are extrapolating enormous amounts of water into the atmosphere, the sea wall at the end of the picture will be our new Mount Rushmore, the orange Vegas is happening now. Denis Villeneuve didn’t predict the earth looking like this, but his production team was still spot on. A picture that transcends its very style, developing a look that will be discussed on its merits separate from the ubiquitous original, is a stunning achievement.

Everything isn’t dystopian because that’s the way it was in the book. It’s what will happen to us in real life, why we’d look for colonies to live on if we had the technology or funding towards NASA to do so. God help us all.

4. The love story questions the essence of relationships

The story between K and Joi further examines the meaning of love, sex, and mortality, with the two being different versions of artificiality. When the default sexed-up version of a naked Joy pops up on the screen, we are emotionally mortified. Some of us may be repulsed to observe a character we care for utilized like a thirsty Godzilla.

The towering ad tries to seduce K tempting him to buy it, rendering everything Joi said to K throughout the picture questionable. Its manipulation solidifies his final decision in life to help another man. We’re not sure if she loved him or said what it thought it wanted him to hear throughout the narrative. Possibly Joi herself didn’t know her intentions. An unusual amount of nuance and uncertainty rests in the love story. Who do we love? Why do we love? Do we love by the heart or the heart of our designers whom we don’t know?

Meanwhile, Deckard was just drunk and horny when he bashed Rachel up against the wall. Sorry, that really was all there was to their passion despite what Wallace says.

5. The movie was an honest commentary about how the world views woman

Here’s a controversial one. A lot of women were disgusted by the way they were depicted in the film. Outwardly watching the movie, I can’t blame them. I’ll let Mr. Villeneuve speak for himself. “I am very sensitive to how I portray women in movies. This is my ninth feature film and six of them have women in the lead role. The first Blade Runner was quite rough on the women, something about the film noir aesthetic. But I tried to bring depth to all the characters. For Joi, the holographic character, you see how she evolves. It’s interesting, I think. What is cinema? Cinema is a mirror on society. Blade Runner is not about tomorrow; it’s about today. And I’m sorry, but the world is not kind on women.”

Villeneuve is right. Women today are still sexualized. Even with the Me Too movement, women are continually seen as sex objects or subservient slaves in a male-dominated society. Villeneuve isn’t interested in painting a rosy picture that Hollywood does for female roles to make the audiences feel comfortable. It’s an honest reflection on who we are. What we see is what we don’t want to see, but that’s part of the honesty of cinema.

6. The score is mesmerizing

Another point in which I may face some contention. Yes, Vangelis’ score is iconic, but it only works for the era it was composed in. Much of its mixture of bleeps, blops, and wind chimes are a product of its time. A lot of emotion is missing from the score other than the opening theme and “Tears In Rain.” Hearing much of the soundtrack while on the road, I sometimes thought I was listening to something from a porno. Take a listen to “Wait For Me” in the soundtrack and tell me otherwise. Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch’s score is timeless while also paying respect to Vangelis’ synthetic use in the original. It dives into the character’s mind providing a replication of something more human than what Vangelis composed.

7. It thematically ties more directly to “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” than “Blade Runner” does.

“Blade Runner” got the overall gist of Phillip K Dick’s novel. Replicants are scared, trying to find a way to survive as Deckard hunts them down. However, the Andies in the movie almost deserve to die. In their quest for more life, they torture and kill multiple civilians. What did the guy making the eyes do to deserve being frozen to death? What about J.R. Sebastian? He was nothing but pleasant to Roy and Pris. Did Roy eye gauge him when he was done with Tyrell?

Aside from Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), our replicants are fully rounded people. Sapper Morton is a watchful protector who was meant to be a NEXUS 8 combat medic; Joi’s true intentions come into question for herself and us. K’s inner conflict is the central core of the story. All of this revolves around the meaning of existence within a world that has forgotten about you. The introduction of Robo procreation is an evolution of Dick’s ideas, widening his notion of why life exists in the first place.

8. It doesn’t get lost in the scale

Many sequels love scope over characters. Remember “The Matrix”? Remember how they talked about Zion and all these other things we didn’t see? When the sequels brought in Zion, the focus got lost in the spectacle. “The Matrix Reloaded” was a bumbling CGI mess of Agent Smith Clones and cave orgies. “The Matrix Revolutions” was a glorified “Space Invaders” game. Shoot as many sentinels as you can before becoming overwhelmed. Amidst the sequels bumbling chaos, I missed the smaller scale of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.

The story of “2049” could have focused on the replicant uprising with thousands of robots slamming into humans. We could have gone off-world to finally see what all these other colonies we’ve heard about are like. Some have argued that the movie could have borrowed some of its source material from the later novels about replicants creating humans, so on and so forth. All of that sounds incredible in theory. In execution, you would likely get “The Matrix” sequels.

A movie that overreaches in scope, attempting to please fans by showing everything. What we got was an incredibly meaningful story that further explores the themes of the original while building upon its world without going too far. We see what’s beyond L.A. on the dilapidated west coast. The answer is not much. The film aims at minimalism over extravaganza.

9. We’re still talking about it

After being MIA for decades, “Blade Runner 2049” isn’t forgotten. I can’t say the same for “Superman Returns,” “Monsters University,” “The Incredibles 2,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” and “Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.” In fairness, people do talk about Indy 4, but not in a positive fashion. “Blade Runner 2049” returned to the limelight with disastrous box office results yet high accolades, even gaining the Academy’s attention. Ironically it seemed destined to live the life of its predecessor.

“2049” may have tanked because it was a multimillion-dollar art film that respected its audience’s intelligence. Maybe “Blade Runner” was too far gone amongst the public to gain an interest geared almost entirely towards comic books and Disney. I think the trailers after the reveal teaser looked too generic for my own two cents, turning me off from the film for a short while.

Here we are with Honest Trailers in 2020, making a video about a film that came out in 2017. Bloodsoaked orange skies from the headlines mention the atmosphere of this film. Somewhere, about 100 other people are writing their analysis of “Blade Runner 2049” as I type right now. Seven years from now, we’ll be talking about why the world is still like “Blade Runner 2049.” Villeneuve made a timeless sequel to be remembered.

10. It’s better than the first film and one of the best films in the last ten years

Here’s why you’ll probably agree with this one when you put your pitchfork down. Remove your nostalgia goggles. I know it’s hard to do, please, trust me. Look at the points I made above. Think about how ironic the love story is to our lives. The layers of meaning behind K’s existence is lightyears beyond the featureless Rick Deckard. The picture isn’t flawless. Niander Wallace is spectacularly corny in his scenery-chewing grim monologues. Dr. Eldon Tyrell had some ambiguity regarding the morale of his intentions. For that, I’ll give the original the benefit of my doubt. I understand Ryan Gosling was cast to be intentionally deadpan, but it’s okay to emote once. His distant stare in all of his other performances made it difficult for me to discern myself from the actor’s rather dull persona.

With this said, “Blade Runner 2049” understands cinema. Its atmosphere is why we venture into a dark room that takes us to a different place. Denis Villeneuve’s masterful follow up is one of the most orgasmic cinematic experiences I have witnessed in the last ten years that demands a re-screening in 2022 when theatres reopen at an entirely safe capacity. The style doesn’t overshadow its substance, which is far richer in detail than the original without grasping at blatant metaphors. “Blade Runner 2049” is slow cinema at its finest, letting us into the character’s heads, knowing when to be quiet and when to be loud.

Like “The Empire Strikes Back,” not everyone appreciated the movie at first. Time has been incredibly kind to it, though. I wish the Academy recognized “Blade Runner 2049” beyond its technical marvels in 2018. I suppose it wasn’t the type of picture that catches Oscar voter’s eyes. But it has acquired the audience’s to this day. Now, if you could just look up and to the left for me?

from you’ll probably agree website https://ift.tt/3kxHs7O via IFTTT

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3kG03i7 via IFTTT

[botan-shirabuki]

Soi and Mitsuhide SFW/NSFW headcanons 😭💖

I would get hit by a bus for these two. They don't have to be in danger or anything, just in general.

SFW

-They're generally very well liked by the people in town, so when word got out that they were together, most people were so happy for them. Soi's favorite grocer even gave her a congratulatory discount the day they found out. Soi gets embarrassed by all the attention, but Mitsuhide takes it in stride. After all, when you've got It...you've Got It.

-Soi is a total geek-ass dweeb nerd about food. Like, yeah duh, she's a chef but it goes deeper than that. She reads so much about food and how recipes work that she can list trivia off the top of her head. Whenever her and Mitsuhide eat together, she'll usually begin each meal with some Fun Facts™ about what they're eating. Mitsuhide is so wholly enamoured with everything she tells him so he just sits and listens intently. If he asks her a really good question she goes !!!!! And she starts to go off on a tangent. He has to remind her that they're about to eat sometimes so the food doesn't go cold.

-Mitsuhide kept his love for cats from her for quite a while. "I wanted you to have sex with me." When she found out, she started feeding stray cats along with him. Her cat voice is nowhere near the level of his, but she tries her best. She actually used to be low-key scared of cats after she saw one maul a rabbit when she was younger, but seeing a herd of them around Mitsuhide being cute and fuzzy and meowing helped her get over that.

-Once they get to Sakamoto, they got the opportunity to foster a mother cat who had an injured leg and her kittens back to good health. It was a really hectic time in the castle because the kittens ended up being pretty energetic and many of their retainers ended up chasing them all around. But everyone in the castle grew so attatched to them so some of their retainers and maids ended up taking the kittens home themselves once they were old enough. Soi and Mitsuhide kept the mother and one of the kittens themselves until [DATA EXPUNGED]

-Speaking of the cats, Soi gets to hear all of his corny jokes that they do. Sometimes he'll feed the cats alone so he can practice getting the punchline right before he tries them on her. The thing is, Soi finds the way that he tells the joke funnier than the joke itself. If he finds a joke particularly funny and no one else is around, he'll be chuckling to himself and then he'll stop. And then he'll think about it and start laughing again. And then he'll get her attention; so she turns around, trying to act like she hasn't heard him snickering to himself, and asks him what is it. He proceeds to tell her a joke that she's heard before (maybe even delivered better) but the way he's clearly trying so hard not to crack up and ruin it makes her double over every time. Mitsuhide assumes he killed that shit and they both laugh together. Everyone wins!

-he loves playing with her hair. It's so soft and is such a pretty color when it catches the sunlight. He often runs his fingers through it and will tuck it behind her ears and set it back in its place when it gets messed up by the wind or Inuchiyo. Sometimes if they're sitting outside together he'll start braiding it, though it usually unravels. He can only imagine what it was like when it was long.

-They end each day by talking to each other about how their days went over tea and snacks. It's such a nice stress relief for the two of them and a guaranteed way for them to spend time with each other no matter how eventful their days are.

-Soi has the STRONGEST legs from how good she's gotten at jumping to conclusions. She doesn't mean to, but Mitsuhide means so much to her that her mind tends to go all over the place when he leaves any questions unanswered. Mitsuhide has no problem answering them when she confronts him though. He thinks she's cute when she realizes she was being overdramatic.

-It's a whole part-time job keeping Soi out of danger, whether it's holding her up when she trips on something, or keeping her from throwing a gourd full of deer piss at some scoundrels while they're visiting the capital. Soi gets very embarrassed and frustrated by him always needing to save her or stop her bc she doesn't want him to think of her as less than, or as a child he needs to babysit. Of course, Mitsuhide doesn't mind. Though he often looks exasperated or stressed out by these situations, he admires how impulsive she is. He doesn't want to see her hurt, of course, but that look of self-righteous determination she gets before she does something without thinking is one of his favorites.

-Soi is a very Sensitive Soul, but she tends to hold in her emotions. They've had to really work on communicating properly so that they don't get hung up on minor misunderstandings. Especially after Mitsuhide absolutely slam dunked on Soi's feelings for him. And when she was down, he proceeded to stomp on them, steam roll them, panini press them, tap dance and then finally crip walk on them. She's still not over that so they're working through it. Mitsuhide takes extra care not to hurt her anymore than that, because nothing ruined him like the look on her face at that teahouse 😔

NSFW

-They're both the most stressed people you'll ever meet (Mitsuhide from work and Soi from raw, unfiltered neurosis) and they've become each other's favorite form of stress relief. Those aforementioned nightly visits often escalate very quickly.

-Growing up, Soi never had an actual idea of what sex was. She knew it was something that couples did and that it was a section of the bookstore she wasn't allowed in. So at first, she was very hesitant to do anything too crazy with him even though they were a couple so in theory it was okay, but she didn't know what it would lead to or what the end goal was, if not a baby. But then Mitsuhide made her cum for the first time and she was like "OH THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING OUT ON!!!!!" And she's been a bust down ever since.

-They both dedicate themselves to being the perfect lover. Soi has finally steeled herself to go into the forbidden section of the bookstore and pick up relevant editions of The Lover's Guide. She's that girl who practices facial expressions and flattering positions in the mirror. Mitsuhide also reads All The Books. He's learned not to take advice from Nobunaga, Katsuie, or Hideyoshi because none of their tips are really His Style™. He also often finds himself thinking about how he can use his training to better his performance.

-They both masturbate (also, Mitsuhide taught her how to touch herself) during long bouts where they don't get to see each other. When they finally get to see each other again they're both really bashful, but Soi will end up blurting out that she thought about him while she did and then she'll kick herself for letting that slip out because she doesn't want to come across as desperate. But after a moment, he'll be like "Oh good, I thought of you too!"

-They're very sexually intense people. The sheer level of smoulder between them is INSANE. It's like when they're intimate, it's as if there aren't enough things they can do to show how much they love each other. It isn't enough to just fuck her through the floor. It isn't enough to leave her covered in hickeys and bruises. Soi likes to feel like he's trying to murder her with his dick. She also tends to cry when it's that good, but it's never from sadness. Mitsuhide has learned to just keep fucking her through it until she's nice and sated again 😌

-While Soi does like it rough, she doesn't want him to say anything degrading or mean. Mitsuhide will tell her she's beautiful after he slaps her. Or he'll tell her how good of a job she's doing while he fucks her face. Positive reinforcement is key :) Also, he never leaves any orifices sore because he's learned the RIGHT way to do all this. And he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her in a way that was truly unpleasant.

-Mitsuhide never speaks a single word about what they do to anyone in the castle. He would never put her on blast like that bc it's corny. However, Soi does have Oichi and a few maids that she's close with that she confides in. She intended to keep it secret too, but of course she went and accidentally implied that she likes auto-erotic asphyxiation so the cat was out of the bag. As far as she's concerned, her business is safe with them, though.

-Ever since she has become Aware, Soi has become a royal tease. Nothing too dramatic, she just knows what looks to give him and how to move while she serves Lord Nobunaga's dessert to make his resolve and self control go *Roman Holiday noises*. He gets her back every time without fail.

-They aren't exhibitionists, but they do often end up fucking in risky public/semi-public places (i.e., that dungeon, on the veranda, in an alley at night, on a balcony, in an empty room in the middle of the day......if you fuck on the shores of Lake Biwa and nobody is around, did it really happen?)

-Mitsuhide is a switch, and they've toyed with the idea of changing things up, but Soi would want nothing more than to give him the equal amount of pleasure that he gives her, and she doesn't trust her physical ability to do so. She's also not that good with rope and dildos are intimidating. They've decided that it's best to let her lead the way and tell him exactly what she wants (which btw, took her SO LONG to be able to do bc she's got so many hang ups lol). It's really helped her figure out what she really wants and likes. And although she usually just ends up requesting that he manhandles her anyway, it's reassuring to both of them that she chose for it to be that way.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (18) Vowing

Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she'd give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama. But she couldn't. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic

Ao3 | FF.net

Before we get into this chapter, I just want to thank each and every one of you for sticking with this pain for so long. I know it hurts, but man, I really want the ending to be worth it for everyone. Just stick with me for a little longer!

This chapter may be the most dark. We are Adrien and Marinette, and some sad stuff is going to happen. But I have ended the chapter with some fluff to balance it out. And I think we are halfway through. We’ll see if the ending drags on longer.

I hope you all forgive me.

—

Marinette had officially lost track of the days. It was a feat that she had kept up with it as long as she had. But given there were no clocks and no sunlight, she was forced to conclude that time didn’t matter in this place.

Given the amount of times she ‘rested’ in her cage, she’d put their stay at either 5 days or a full week.

Could torture grow stagnant? Because that’s what it was starting to feel like.

In the mornings, there was some form of humiliation tactic being used. Degrading names, dehumanizing acts. Forced to eat food off the ground, forced to crawl and act like animals.  

She was getting used to it.

And that was concerning.

In the afternoon, they’d hang from their chains, and in the evenings, they played the noose game.

Adrien at least coped better than he did at the beginning. He kept his eyes clenched shut and refused to cry out. When he began to hyperventilate, he would remember how to breathe, and calm down for a moment, before repeating the cycle.

Had Salo run out of ideas? Or was something worse coming?

It seemed the questioned would be answered after the fifth ‘rest’.

Marinette awoke to someone stomping on her hand, which was outside of the cage, holding Adrien’s.

She recoiled with a hiss, pulling her hand back in and holding it.

“Isn’t that just so disgustingly sweet?” Salo asked, as the chains on her door were unlocked. “You’re sure going to like what we do today!”

Marinette was grabbed by the wrist and pulled into another room. Obediently, she didn’t ask any questions, but she was keenly aware that Adrien wasn’t following her.

In the new room, Marinette was made to stand. It was a small room, one light on the ceiling, with a table off to the side. A paper bag sat on the table.

She was alone with Salo. But that gun was still on her hip.

“Are you ready for the most important day of your life?”

Marinette hunched her shoulders. What was that supposed to mean?

“I…I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t, you stupid bitch.” Salo laughed. “Now strip.”

A precursory glance around the room showed that there where no cameras in the room.

It’s not like it mattered though. Paris had already seen her naked.

So she pulled at the ties and took off her robe, laying it on the table nearby.

Salo didn’t say anything, just took out some white fabric from the bag. A corset and tutu, to be exact.

Marinette stared at the outfit with some degree of confusion.

“What, you’ve never seen a wedding dress before?” Asked Salo, with a little grin.

“Not…one that looked like that.”

She laughed. “Oh I know it’s a little different. But you’ll look so stunning!” She opened up the corset and wrapped it around her waist, fastening it in the front. “Oh good, perfect fit. I worried we’d have to starve you for another week before you could fit into it.” She turned her around, and began to tighten the ribbons.

“Why...am I wearing a wedding dress?”

Salo giggled, “why do you think silly girl? You’re getting married!”

Marinette’s heart felt unbelievably heavy at that announcement. “To who?”

“Why, to Chat Noir, of course. No one else wants you like this.”

Well, that was a relief. And it wasn’t like they were actually getting married, right? This was another one of her sick games. Making a mockery of something beautiful, joyful. Desecrating the sacred, and ruining the perfect.

Salo pulled the ribbons tight, making it hard to breathe.

“Oh, but I know what you’re thinking. This is just some sort of joke, right? No no, my dear. I’ve got a mayor here to make it official. I’m not going to tell you where he’s from, but all the paperwork has already been submitted. In a few hours, you’ll be Mrs. Adrien Agreste. Isn’t that just exciting?”

No.

It wasn’t.

Not like this.

Of course, she loved Adrien. And she loved Chat Noir too, by extension. She always dreamed of marrying him and having three kids and a hamster.

But that was when she was a kid. She was older now, and recognized that she wasn’t ready for marriage. Her and Chat had good camaraderie, Adrien and her were good friends. But a good friendship and business partnership did not a marriage make.

“Aw, you’re so happy you’re crying!” Salo cooed.

Marinette covered her face with her hands.

Her mother was supposed to be here, helping her put on the dress. And Alya, she was supposed to be here too. And her father was going to walk her down the aisle!

Where was the dress that she designed herself? Her flowers? The lovely chateau for the reception?

No, all she had was cold, dirty cement, and a too-revealing dress. If you could even call it that.

“There, let’s do your makeup. No bride is complete without a makeover!”

Marinette shook her head and backed into a corner. “No, no please, I don’t want to do this!”

“What’s wrong? Do you not love him?”

“No, I do! But I—“

Shit.

A malevolent smile came over Salo’s face, snagging onto the information and tucking it away for future use.

“No!” Marinette protested. “I meant that I love him, I care for him, but he’s like my brother! I love him platonically!”

Salo obviously wasn’t buying it.  

“You know I hear everything you two say in that room, right? And so does everyone else in Paris. We all know that you had a crush on Adrien, and that he’s in love with you. There’s no use lying to make it easier.”

Salo walked slowly over to her as she talked, and then grabbed Marinette by the hair and forced her to look her in the eye. “Because whether you ‘love’ him, or not, torturing him in front of you is still going to hurt like a bitch.”

Marinette just moaned in pain. There was no winning with this woman.

Salo grabbed her by the wrists and had her sit at the table.  “There there, pumpkin. We can’t have you crying while I put on your makeup.” She wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Now, to make you all pretty.”

Clown makeup.

Specifically Pagliacci.

A white face, with thick red lips, black outlines around the eyes, and black lines that looked like tears.

She looked demented.

Crying would only make it look worse.

“Now come along,” Salo grabbed her wrist again. “Your groom awaits you.”

Marinette was dragged by the wrist into the room she was so familiar with. The air reeked of alcohol. Men sat in chairs in rows, forming an aisle. At the end, a man with a book stood at attention.

And Adrien. Who was completely naked except for a bowtie. The bruise from his arm was now a sickly green, while the bruise on his chest from the crowbar was dark purple.

At her entrance, his jaw dropped, his eyes sparkling with tears. Sure, she had wanted her future husband to cry when he saw her in her wedding dress.

But not like this.

Never like this.

The audience stood, wobbling. She recognized that most were some sort of drunk.

Salo looped an arm around hers and started to walk her down the aisle.

The assembled started to sing, in a slur of drunken gaiety.

Here comes the bride,

All dressed in white.

Marinette couldn’t help it. She started to cry. How desperately she wished to hide, to cover herself, to never leave the house again.

Sweetly, serenely in the soft glowing light.

A hand grabbed her butt, and she sobbed outright.

Lovely to see, marching to thee.

Sweet love united for eternity.

Then she was next to Adrien, his mouth still open, searching for words to say.

But he had nothing.

No comfort.

No affection.

Just hopeless silence.

She wasn’t much better.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked Salo, in a stint of bravery.

Salo smiled, in what looked like patience. “In my research of the Ladyblog, I found a recurring theme. A lot of people in the forums wanted you two to get together. Not only that, but they wanted you to have a public ceremony, so everyone could be a part of it. And you see…you both are going to die here. I figure, you probably both wanted to get married someday. Who am I to take that away from you?”

Who indeed?

Adrien reached out and took her hand, squeezing.

Now that she was in front, Marinette noticed something very off about the officiant.

He was shaking like a leaf, and very pale. He didn’t look the least bit jolly like the rest of them. He actually looked downright terrified.

Salo needed an officiant. So, it was likely that he was being held here against his will. Just like them.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to join…Chat Noir and Ladybug together in holy matrimony.”

Holy. There wasn’t anything holy about this. God had his face turned away.

“Adrien, do you take Marinette to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poor, until death do you part?”

Adrien swallowed and answered with a whisper. “I do.”

“And Marinette, do you take Adrien to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poor, until death do you part?”

“Yes, I do.”

The officiant sighed heavily. “The brands?”

Now, Adrien may have had his entire wedding to Ladybug all planned, but no where in all his research, did he read anything about brands.

There was an echoing squeaking coming from the hall, before another one of Salo’s men wheeled in a cart. On it, there was a cast iron pot with hot coals in it, and two pieces of metal sticking out.

Marinette stood a little closer to Adrien, fear overwhelming her. Likewise, he held her hand a little tighter.

Salo, and two men stood from the crowd, and went to Adrien, and took his bad arm, laying it flat, palm up on the cart.

Salo took a pair of heavy gloves and gave them to Marinette. “Alright, you’re going to take this brand right here, and you’re going to press it to his palm for five seconds.”

“I’m not doing that.” Marinette protested.

“Fine, then I’ll do it for you, and make it hurt so much worse. I’ll burn right through his hand.”

“No, wait…” Marinette clenched her fist. “I’ll…I’ll do it.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Marinette slipped the gloves over her shaking hands, and picked up the designated brand. Trembling, she held it over his open palm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Repeat after me: with this brand, I thee wed.”

“With this brand…I thee wed.” She trembled, before plunging it down.

It sizzled on his skin as a scream ripped from his throat. His fingers twitched, and his other hand grabbed at the nearest body and fisted in their shirt.

It couldn’t have been five seconds. Surely she counted too fast. But she couldn’t stand the sound, the smell. She ripped the brand off of him and dropped it on the floor.

In an act of mercy, Salo dropped his hand in ice water, which made it better before numbing his hand completely.

Marinette tore the gloves off. Wanting to take him and hold him, begging for forgiveness.

But she didn’t. She just stood there sniveling.

Without anyone forcing her to, she laid her arm down, where Adrien’s had been, palm up.

“No, no Mari, don’t.” Adrien begged.

“Please…it’s only fair.”

Adrien took his arm out of the water, holding his palm open for her to see.

The skin was blood red and bubbling, but in center of all the gruesome gore, the word ‘Ladybug’ was written in a fancy cursive font.

A brand. He belonged to her.

And soon she’d belong to him too.

She nodded him on.

Salo put the glove on for him and pointed out the correct brand for him to use. Because he was using his non-dominant hand, he braced his elbow on the edge of the cart to keep steady. The last thing he wanted to do was mess this up and cause her unnecessary pain.

A rivulet of sweat broke through her face paint and tracked down her cheek.

The officiant, with his eyes shut tight, spoke, “repeat after me: with this brand, I thee wed.”

“With this…this brand, I…I thee wed.” He stuttered, not even processing what he was saying. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he pressed the brand into her skin.

Marinette seemed to take it better than him. She turned her face away so she didn’t have to see. Her freehand came up to bite her knuckle as a very slightly muted scream rose from her chest.

White hot searing pain, that burned and sizzled all the way up her arm.

And just when she stopped feeling it, he pulled away.

The brand clattered to the floor, and Adrien held her fingers as she panted. Finally, she dared to look at her hand.

‘Chat Noir’ was written in matching script to Adrien, and the surrounding skin was raw, blistering, and bleeding.

The officiant took a trembling breath. “Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

It felt too weird, and too inappropriate to kiss at a time like this. This bastardized wedding didn’t deserve romance. It was wrong and awful.

But Adrien came closer, and caressed her arm gently, full of affection and love.

“May I?” He whispered.

“Yes,” she returned, just as softly.

It was just a peck. Certainly not the type of firework-filled kisses in the movies.

Neither of them enjoyed it anyway.

“Oh that’s not a kiss! Give her a real smooch!” A man heckled in the crowd.

Adrien bent and kissed her again, lingering longer this time.

“Nah kid! Use the tongue!”

Adrien grimaced, and helplessly shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how to tongue kiss.”

“Me niether.”

“Then ya better get ta practicin’!”

There were days in school, where Marinette would gaze longingly at the back of Adrien’s head, imagining him pining her to the wall, running his hands up her thighs, and swirling his tongue with hers.

But this just felt lewd and wrong. Especially with everyone whooping and hollering in the background.

She kissed him back, her heart pounding in her chest.

Just for once, she wanted to enjoy and remember a kiss with Adrien. Was that too much to ask?

Adrien pulled away, looking incredibly sheepish.

“Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Adrien Agreste.” Said the officiant, with some relief. He rested a shaky hand on both of their shoulders as he presented them to the crowd. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Will you let me go now?”

Salo smirked, standing, as her hand went to her hip. “Yeah, you can join your wife and daughter.” Then she withdrew her gun and without warning, shot the man in the head.

Marinette shrieked as he hit the floor.

The drunken mass of an audience all started singing the wedding march, out of tune and too loud.

“Daaa! Daaa! Dadadada—!”

Marinette just started bawling, her tears making the black paint melt and run down her cheeks in thick lines.

This was the second murder she had to witness in a week. And it wasn’t getting any easier.

Was this supposed to be a farce? A mockery of everything pure and clean?

Marinette looked and Adrien, only to see him covering his eyes with his hand as he sobbed.

Everyday, she felt more and more helpless. But this took the cake.

The chairs in the room rearranged and tables were brought in. She and Adrien were sat alone together at a little table, while everyone else gathered around. Then, the smell of food wafted through the air, and Marinette’s stomach twisted.

The body of the dead officiant was right there, his soulless eyes looking up at her.

The food came. Dishes passed between the men, drinks being refilled and clanged together.

No one brought anything to the sordid couple.

Salo stood, raising a wine glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”

The laughter settled down.

“To Ladybug and Chat Noir. May their last hours together be pleasurable and full of love.”

The words settled on Marinette’s shoulders heavily, making the floor feel like it was opening up beneath her.

Their last hours together?

She looked to Adrien, seeing his face full of panic as well.

“What do you mean by that?” Marinette asked.

But Salo didn’t answer, and the party continued without them.

They sat alone at the sweet heart table, the difference in the attitude of the room being palpable. The door to freedom was just on the other side of the buffet table of burly, well armed men. A perfect wall.

Adrien lifted his dead arm onto the table, looking at the branding on his hand. He gave a little smile, and confessed, “If I had to be branded with anyone’s name, I’m glad it was yours.”

Marinette mimicked him, setting her hand next to his. “Me too.”

He reached up and swiped some of the paint off her cheek. “I miss your face. You were hiding behind a mask all this time, and now you’re hiding again.”

“I want to take it off. I look so ugly.”

He shook his head. “It’s impossible for you to look ugly. Even with bad makeup.”

She took hold of his hand that rested on her cheek, and brought it to her lips to kiss, leaving some red paint behind.

Salo stood again, her chair scraping on the cement.

Marinette clenched her eyes shut and held his hand tightly. She didn’t want to be separated from him. Not now, not ever.

“I think it’s time for our lovely couple to go on their honeymoon! What do you fellas think?”

Of course, there was a drunken cheer that hurt the ears.

Two people each grabbed them, and hauled them down the hall. This time, they were led past their normal room, and into a closet. It couldn’t have been more than three or four feet wide on each side, and with both of them in there at the same time, space was limited.

Salo was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Now, have fun you two! We’ve got plenty of cameras and mics in here, so make sure you put on a good show for everyone at home!”

With that, the door slammed shut, and the laughter on the other side faded.

“Adrien…I…I can’t.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I would never make you…” He felt along the walls. “Here, let’s sit.”

He sat down first, and then pulled her to sit on his lap, their skin pressed against each other.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, shifting.

“As much as I can be. Don’t move like that, please.”

Her face tinged pink. She leaned back against the wall, and just tried to allow herself to breathe.

Adrien’s good hand wondered over her back and shoulders, absently. She was sure if she asked him to stop, he would have, but she didn’t want him to.

“We’re not going to do what Salo wants us to do in here,” he said with finality. “I’m not ready for that.”

Marinette breathed a sigh in relief.

“But…I would like to hold you.” He whispered.

Marinette turned to lean into him. “I want you to hold me.”

She arranged his bum arm to rest on her legs while his other arm wrapped around her waist and held her tighter.

“So…” he began, “I’m the ‘other boy’ right? The one you kept rejecting me for?”

She scoffed. “You just figured that out?”

“Yeah well, it just hit me. I asked you how long you’d been in love with me for, and you said since that day in the rain…”

She ran her hand up his arm. “We really are stupid, aren’t we? If…if I had just agreed to let us share our identities…”

“No.” He said, a bit forceful. “You were smart on having us keep them to ourselves. Look at us now. Everyone knows who we are, and…” He rested his head against hers, as a way of ending the thought. “I’m just happy I have you now. I love you so much, Mari.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

This was cruel and unusual. Adrien was finally in love with her.

And this was the last time she see him for a while. Maybe ever.

The closet they were in was much too dark. A scant bit of light leaked in through the bottom of the door, but that wasn’t enough to see him.

“Can…can I kiss you? Properly this time?”

She took his face in her hands. “Please.”

This kiss felt much better. Prompted on their own, in their own world, despite the threat of cameras. It was soft and sweet, and everything she wanted in a first kiss.

Though it didn’t come first, this is the one she counted.

When they broke apart, he leaned his forehead on hers.

Timidly, she pushed some hair behind her ear. “I…I dreamt about marrying you. You know? I had the whole ceremony planned out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Would you tell me about it?”

She blinked with a blush, not expecting such an intimate question. “Well...” she swallowed. “I was expecting my father to walk me down the aisle. And for my mother to help me put on my dress.”

“One that you designed?” He asked, his voice soft and eyes closed, like he was trying to imagine it.

“Yeah.”

“What would it look like?”

She smiled slightly, picturing the drawing she had in her sketchbook. “A soft rose pink. Made of silk, with lace sleeves. I want to honor my heritage by embroidering a rose gold phoenix on the skirts.”

“That’s a really nice touch,” he hummed. “You’d look beautiful in it.”

She blushed again, ducking her head to lay on his shoulder.

“What about the ceremony? Where would it take place?”

“A chateau in Giverny. Where we can get married out in the gardens, under a wisteria tree. I just want lots and lots of flowers.”

“I like that idea. Certainly better than mine.”

She giggled. “You had a wedding plan?”

“Every bit of it. Even down to the color of the napkins.”

“Then pray tell, what does our wedding look like to you?”

“Well, it was going to be in Notre Dame…and then I had to change it to Chartres Cathedral.”

“I could get behind a Cathedral.”

“It’s so beautiful in there, My Lady. The gothic architecture and the stain glass windows. It’s like a castle, fit for a princess.”

“Do they allow cats in cathedrals?” She joked.

“Rude.”  

“What kind of cake?”

At the same time, they said, “Vanilla Raspberry delight from the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie Patisserie!” They laughed together.

“And what about the honeymoon?” He asked, “We can go anywhere in the whole wide world. Where do you want to go?”

She was quiet for moment, thinking. “Have you ever seen ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?”

“Every Christmas.”

“I like the scene, where George and Mary loan out all of their money to the people in town, so Mary goes back to the abandoned mansion and makes a resort just for them. With posters of all the places they wanted to go, and a little dinner. And then they kiss to the sound of the rain, and Bert and Ernie singing ‘I love you truly, truly dear’.”

“That part always makes me cry.” He admitted.

“My point, is that it doesn’t matter where we go, as long as I can be with you.”

He kissed her forehead. “In that case, let’s get a sailboat. Sail the world. At night, we’ll be just a silhouette surrounded by a myriad of stars. Spend our nights on the glassy water, where you can't tell where the sky begins and ends. Just the two of us, free to go wherever we want.”

“That just sounds too good to pass on. You promise? We can do that?”

“When we’re out of here, we’ll have our perfect wedding. And then we’ll go, and never look back.”

[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Chapter 13: The Muggle-Born Registration Commission

“‘Ah, well. It’s only a matter of time,’ said Thicknesse. ‘If you ask me, the blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods. Good day, Runcorn.’” – First of all, the term ‘Mudblood’ has now become acceptable. The Minister of Magic uses it in public, a word that a few years ago was generally seen as an incredible hurtful insult. Second, we know that Thicknesse is under the Imperius Curse and that me wonder how exactly that Curse works. Do you only cast it once, do you have to renew the Curse? I guess that depends on the victim and how strong their will is to fight back. How precise do the instructions have to be? I mean Thicknesse isn’t just forced to do a single action but instead to completely change the Ministry policy. How much of the old Thicknesse is still there? Did he already agree with many of the ideas of the Death Eaters, which would have made him an easier target? Controlling the Minster and at large the entire Ministry is a really complex task, especially in the way Lupin described: that people would get suspicious of the new Ministry policy, but not enough to openly rebel against it.

“Panic pulsed in the pit of his stomach. As he passed gleaming wooden door after gleaming wooden door, each bearing a small plaque with the owner’s name and occupation upon it, the might of the Ministry, its complexity, its impenetrability, seemed to force themselves upon him so that the plan he had been carefully concocting with Ron and Hermione over the past four weeks seemed laughably childish. They had concentrated all their efforts on getting inside without being detected: they had not given a moment’s thought to what they would do if they were forced to separate.” – They are completely underprepared and they lack the resources to get more prepared. Not just by infiltrating the Ministry but with their entire plan to hunt down Horcruxes and destroy them. It was simply a chance of luck that they found out who R.A.B. is (they could have hide anywhere else than Grimmauld Place) or that Umbridge would be wearing the locket instead of keeping at safe at home for example. There are still just three teenagers, not even fully educated, stumbling into this, not knowing what they do, leaving a mess everywhere. Thanks Dumbledore.

“They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of coloured paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, Harry realised that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern, and after a few more seconds he realised that what he was watching was the creation of pamphlets, that the paper squares were pages, which when assembled, folded and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard.” – It was at an episode of the ‘Witch Please’ podcast (I think this one) where they had wondered why the Ministry would make every single pamphlet individually instead of using a printing press or something like that. It seems like an incredible dull repetitive work, so perhaps it is meant as a punishment and degradation to those doing it.

“MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose, with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl.” – Again, the term ‘Mublood’ is used, this time on an official Ministry pamphlet, which therefore makes it socially acceptable now to use it everywhere. Also the red rose of course is a symbol for England, so subtextually the new regime in the Wizarding World is associated with nationalism. Which kinda makes sense given that it resembles every fascist regime ever known.

“The witch glanced towards the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; Harry looked too, and rage reared in him like a snake. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood; an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.” – Using body parts of defeated enemies (or rather their victims) is – what a surprise – also a thing Nazis did. It displays a complete lack of empathy and respect for the deceased. Also, I wonder how exactly the eye works. Apparently it does not need access to a body in order to work; the way Harry describes it later it almost works like a peephole. Of course we don’t know if the magical eye had completely replaced Mad Eye’s natural eye or if enough of it was still left to use the new eye as reinforcement.

“‘Undesirable Number One,’ Harry muttered under his breath as he replaced Mr Weasley’s folder and shut the drawer. He had an idea he knew who that was, and sure enough, as he straightened up and glanced around the office for fresh hiding places, he saw a poster of himself on the wall, with the words UNDESIRABLE NO. 1 emblazoned across his chest. A little pink note was stuck to it, with a picture of a kitten in the corner. Harry moved across to read it and saw that Umbridge had written ‘To be punished’.” – That little note makes the whole thing so ridiculous, as if they were still at Hogwarts and Umbridge would still be fighting her own little vendetta against Harry, instead of Harry becoming a public enemy, with a death sentence hanging over his head.

“Harry opened the book at random and saw a full-page photograph of two teenage boys, both laughing immoderately with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Dumbledore, now with elbow-length hair, had grown a tiny, wispy beard that recalled the one on Krum’s chin that had so annoyed Ron. The boy who roared in silent amusement beside Dumbledore had a gleeful, wild look about him. His golden hair fell in curls to his shoulders. Harry wondered whether it was a young Doge, but before he could check the caption, the door of the office opened.” – I think this moment works great by comparison to the moment when Harry had found the photo of the Marauders in Sirius’s old room. Back then he knew all the people in the photograph, he knew what would later happen to them, how one would betray the others. He knew the context. But at the same time he had wondered if he had projected something in this photograph because of his knowledge. This time Harry does not know who the second person in the photograph is, the relationship between the two men, ect. He is lacking context. He only sees two friends, without knowing what will happen to them in the future, only a single moment captured in time.

Arthur Weasley confronting (who he assumes is) Runcorn is less brave and much more recklessly stupidity. He knows that his family is being watched, that despite being a pure-blood he is not safe, as he (and his family) are considered to be blood traitors. On top of that he is also in the Order and it is known how close the Weasley family is to Harry Potter. And yet Arthur confronts a very powerful member of the Ministry, a man that we know shows little to no mercy to people this new regime considers not worthy enough. Sometimes it is the best to say nothing at all, despite your anger, in order to keep yourself (and your loved ones) safe. Choose your battles.

“He did it instinctively, without any sort of plan, because he hated the sight of her walking alone into the dungeon: as the door began to swing closed, he slipped into the courtroom behind her.” – I mean it is kinda your fault that her husband isn’t with her today. But this is also who Harry is; deciding on instinct alone, doing something because it is the right thing to do, without a detailed plan.

“At the foot of the platform a bright silver, long-haired cat prowled up and down, up and down, and Harry realised that it was there to protect the prosecutors from the despair that emanated from the Dementors: that was for the accused to feel, not the accusers.” – This is such a cruel display of power. The accused are there to defend themselves, to fight for their lives, and yet they are surrounded by Dementors, as if they are already found guilty, with every kind of hope and strength drained from them. I sincerely doubt that any of the accused leaves this court room as a free man or woman; this is nothing more than a show trial, to demonstrate the absolute power the Ministry has over these people.

“The Patronus, he was sure, was Umbridge’s, and it glowed brightly because she was so happy here, in her element, upholding the twisted laws she had helped to write.” – And this is the reason why Umbridge is the best villain in the series to me, the most frightening, not Voldemort. Voldemort is abstract, almost like a comic book villain. Umbridge though is very real; everyone knows someone like Umbridge. She does not care about ideologies, she only cares about power, and she does everything to abuse said power. She is a sadist through and through, feeding on the despair of others.

“‘I’m behind you,’ he whispered into Hermione’s ear. As he had expected, she jumped so violently she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs Cattermole, and this went unnoticed.” – One of the differences between Harry and Hermione is that Hermione hates to do anything unprepared. She always needs to know as much as she can before entering a new situation. Harry is much better as her at improvising and adjusting to new situation. He thinks quick and makes decisions in the heat of the moment, without thinking about the consequences. He needed to learn that skill in order to survive. In the middle of a fight you don’t have the time to analyse the situation and figure out what to do next. You act on instinct. Which is why Harry in this moment is much calmer than Hermione.

“‘T – took?’ sobbed Mrs Cattermole. ‘I didn’t t – take it from anybody. I b – bought it when I was eleven years old. It – it – it – chose me.’” – In this book we learn quite a few things about wandlore and especially the ownership of a wand. We also learn how special the relationship between a wizard/witch and their wand is – the wand becomes a part of them, without it (or when they forced to use a different wand) they feel incomplete. What Mary Cattermole describes here is such an essential part in every wizard/witch’s life – the moment you get your wand, the wand that chooses you, to make it your own. And Umbridge (and the Ministry) takes this moment away, abuses it and reframes it, to fit their own propaganda.

“‘Expec – expecto patronum,’ said Hermione. Nothing happened. ‘It’s the only spell she ever has trouble with,’ Harry told a completely bemused Mrs Cattermole. ‘Bit unfortunate, really … come on, Hermione …’” – We know of two spells that Harry is particularly good at that Ron and Hermione aren’t. Harry is able to fight of the Imperius Curse and he was able to produce a Patronus at a very young age. Both requires a strong will. However I think the reason why Hermione has trouble doing the Patronus Charm is because she is the most emotional of the three. She cries easily and she constantly puts herself under pressure. Even though Hermione has not lived through the same horrors as Harry the Dementors influence her more. Harry has through all the trauma he has experienced built up resilience. And after all this is only the second time Hermione encounters Dementors (the first time she fainted).

“Hermione’s Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror-struck face to Harry. ‘Harry, if we’re trapped here –!’ ‘We won’t be if we move fast,’ said Harry. He addressed the silent group behind them, who were all gawping at him. ‘Who’s got wands?’ About half of them raised their hands. ‘OK, all of you who haven’t got wands need to attach yourself to somebody who has. We’ll need to be fast – before they stop us. Come on.’” – Again we see how different Hermione and Harry react in an unknown situation. Hermione panics – her Patronus vanishes because she can no longer concentrate. Harry on the other hand immediately seizes the initiative and takes over a leader role and gives commands, making sure everyone is safe. He has all the qualities that will make him later a great Auror.

[madduhhline]

Quarantine Life: A Reading List

Here is a booklist for 4th of July that we White people need to read instead of just blindly celebrating 4th of July. Special thanks to Bookstgram Represent for additional resources on bookstore and additional readings. They’ve answered so many questions and helped me make sure that this list focuses on Black writers. Only one book on this list has a white author but it came as a suggestion from a group I was in from a Black teacher so it is included. This isn’t a complete list but over the last few weeks these are what I’ve started my readings with. So, let’s get started.

This post does contain affiliate links to Bookshop.org

Me and White Supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor by Layla F. Saad

This eye-opening book challenges you to do the essential work of unpacking your biases, and helps white people take action and dismantle the privilege within themselves so that you can stop (often unconsciously) inflicting damage on people of color, and in turn, help other white people do better, too.

Diversify by June Sarpong

Putting the spotlight on groups who are often marginalised in our society, including women, ethnic minorities, those living with disabilities, and the LGBTQ+ community, Diversify uncovers the hidden cost of exclusion and shows how a new approach to how we learn, live and do business can solve some of the most stubborn challenges we face.

With unshakeable case studies, brand-new research from Oxford University, and six revolutionary steps to help you overcome unconscious bias, this book will help you become part of a better society.

I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness: Austin Channing Brown

Austin Channing Brown's first encounter with a racialized America came at age 7, when she discovered her parents named her Austin to deceive future employers into thinking she was a white man. Growing up in majority-white schools, organizations, and churches, Austin writes, "I had to learn what it means to love blackness," a journey that led to a lifetime spent navigating America's racial divide as a writer, speaker and expert who helps organizations practice genuine inclusion.In a time when nearly all institutions (schools, churches, universities, businesses) claim to value "diversity" in their mission statements, I'm Still Here is a powerful account of how and why our actions so often fall short of our words. Austin writes in breathtaking detail about her journey to self-worth and the pitfalls that kill our attempts at racial justice, in stories that bear witness to the complexity of America's social fabric--from Black Cleveland neighborhoods to private schools in the middle-class suburbs, from prison walls to the boardrooms at majority-white organizations.

Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools by Monique W. Morris

In a work that Lisa Delpit calls "imperative reading," Monique W. Morris (Black Stats, Too Beautiful for Words) chronicles the experiences of Black girls across the country whose intricate lives are misunderstood, highly judged--by teachers, administrators, and the justice system--and degraded by the very institutions charged with helping them flourish. Called "compelling" and "thought-provoking" by Kirkus Reviews, Pushout exposes a world of confined potential and supports the rising movement to challenge the policies, practices, and cultural illiteracy that push countless students out of school and into unhealthy, unstable, and often unsafe futures.

Called a book "for everyone who cares about children" by the Washington Post, Morris's illumination of these critical issues is "timely and important" (Booklist) at a moment when Black girls are the fastest growing population in the juvenile justice system. Praised by voices as wide-ranging as Gloria Steinem and Roland Martin, and highlighted for the audiences of Elle and Jet right alongside those of EdWeek and the Leonard Lopate Show, Pushout is a book that "will stay with you long after you turn the final page" (Bookish).

Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen

Since its first publication in 1995, Lies My Teacher Told Me has become one of the most important--and successful--history books of our time. Having sold nearly two million copies, the book also won an American Book Award and the Oliver Cromwell Cox Award for Distinguished Anti-Racist Scholarship and was heralded on the front page of the New York Times.

For this new edition, Loewen has added a new preface that shows how inadequate history courses in high school help produce adult Americans who think Donald Trump can solve their problems, and calls out academic historians for abandoning the concept of truth in a misguided effort to be "objective."

What started out as a survey of the twelve leading American history textbooks has ended up being what the San Francisco Chronicle calls "an extremely convincing plea for truth in education." In Lies My Teacher Told Me, James W. Loewen brings history alive in all its complexity and ambiguity. Beginning with pre-Columbian history and ranging over characters and events as diverse as Reconstruction, Helen Keller, the first Thanksgiving, the My Lai massacre, 9/11, and the Iraq War, Loewen offers an eye-opening critique of existing textbooks, and a wonderful retelling of American history as it should--and could--be taught to American students.

*Specifically the chapters regarding slavery. This was a suggestion from a Black womxn in my Womxn for Tri for Justice. She said that Chapter’s 5 & 6 should start as required reading about slavery and then reading the whole book. The edition pictured above does not include the new preface. 

They Were Her Property: White Women as Slave Owners in the American South by Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers

Bridging women's history, the history of the South, and African American history, this book makes a bold argument about the role of white women in American slavery. Historian Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers draws on a variety of sources to show that slave-owning women were sophisticated economic actors who directly engaged in and benefited from the South's slave market. Because women typically inherited more slaves than land, enslaved people were often their primary source of wealth. Not only did white women often refuse to cede ownership of their slaves to their husbands, they employed management techniques that were as effective and brutal as those used by slave-owning men. White women actively participated in the slave market, profited from it, and used it for economic and social empowerment. By examining the economically entangled lives of enslaved people and slave-owning women, Jones-Rogers presents a narrative that forces us to rethink the economics and social conventions of slaveholding America.

[arizonagirldiary]

Letter from Birmingham Jail

~Martin Luther King, Jr.

King’s famous “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” published in The Atlantic as “The Negro Is Your Brother,” was written in response to a public statement of concern and caution issued by eight white religious leaders of the South. It stands as one of the classic documents of the civil rights movement.

I share with you this excerpt:

“While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling our present activities “unwise and untimely.” Seldom, if ever, do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all of the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would be engaged in little else in the course of the day, and I would have no time for constructive work. But since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I would like to answer your statement in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.

I think I should give the reason for my being in Birmingham, since you have been influenced by the argument of “outsiders coming in”

I am in Birmingham because injustice is here …I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider…

We have waited for more than three hundred and forty years for our God-given and constitutional rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward the goal of political independence, and we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward the gaining of a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. I guess it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say “wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize, and even kill your black brothers and sisters with impunity; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she cannot go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her little eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see the depressing clouds of inferiority begin to form in her little mental sky, and see her begin to distort her little personality by unconsciously developing a bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son asking in agonizing pathos, “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger” and your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and when your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodyness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over and men are no longer willing to be plunged into an abyss of injustice where they experience the bleakness of corroding despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience…

Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine when a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law, or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas, an unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality…

There are some instances when a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I was arrested Friday on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong with an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade, but when the ordinance is used to preserve segregation and to deny citizens the First Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and peaceful protest, then it becomes unjust.

Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobedience. It was seen sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar because a higher moral law was involved. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping blocks before submitting to certain unjust laws of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience.

We can never forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler’s Germany. But I am sure that if I had lived in Germany during that time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers even though it was illegal. If I lived in a Communist country today where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are suppressed, I believe I would openly advocate disobeying these anti-religious laws…

I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are presently misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with the destiny of America. Before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson scratched across the pages of history the majestic word of the Declaration of Independence, we were here …If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands…

Never before have I written a letter this long–or should I say a book? I’m afraid that it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else is there to do when you are alone for days in the dull monotony of a narrow jail cell other than write long letters, think strange thoughts, and pray long prayers?

If I have said anything in this letter that is an understatement of the truth and is indicative of an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything in this letter that is an overstatement of the truth and is indicative of my having a patience that makes me patient with anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me.“

Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,

MARTIN LUTHER KING, Jr.

[realwomanleader-blog]

Imagine being homebound for 3 years by no choice of your own - what do you do?

It was a dark and stormy April 1 (no joke). I’m delivering pizza for extra cash, working now 2 weeks beyond my 2-week notice, when my life takes a sudden turn for the much harder.

By now all I’d known all my life is work.

I was the caregiver for my mother from the day I could walk, and she gave thanks by killing my father when I was 19. I’ve never known a soft place to land, and spent many years homeless.

Fast forward to that fateful evening in 2016, and I’m feeling pretty hopeful about my life. I’ve made steady forward progress the last 7 years. Though I’m still suffering with crippling panic attacks every morning, this side gig delivering pizza did its job - we’ve finally moved out of the congested city into a place that was at-long-last big enough to more than just live, in the smallest town in NH by land mass. I felt like I’d actually achieved something.

In fact, April 1 is the first day of our lease. I’m looking forward to letting go of this side job real soon - maybe even tomorrow - and just focus on rebuilding the business I lost in a massive case of writer’s block way back in 2007.

I’m backing out of the coveted spot for drivers when my 5-speed transmission gives its usual kickback and hops out of reverse - the old Hyundai wouldn’t last much longer. Slowing to a stop so I could get it back in gear, I catch a flash of white in my rearview.

NOT GOOD!

I slam the transmission into first and rev hard to avoid colliding with what was certainly my co-worker’s Jetta, once again parked illegally at the ONE PLACE without lights - in front of a dumpster no less! He’d been told numerous times by the landlord to not park there for that very reason, but once again, he hadn’t listened.

I felt no bump other than my old Hyundai popping out of gear (besides, I was traveling so slow my speed-o hadn’t registered at all), so I went about my deliveries. But when I came back, I was greeted by Manchester’s finest, in classic interrogative form.

Turns out, I did make contact. The dent was about the size of my hand, on the driver’s side rear door, maybe half an inch deep.

I didn’t have ALL my insurance information as they required right then, but I was working for the pizza shop right there - in all my 10 years working this gig, I’d always been instructed to direct insurance queries to my employer, which is what I did.

I was called the next day and told I wouldn’t be on the next week’s schedule. The next 6 weeks were marked with constant harassment, and zero assistance from my former employer. The co-worker apparently put it all on his personal insurance, and was allowed to keep his job another 300 days.

All kinds of wrong kept happening. When I asked for a lawyer, I was escorted out the back door. When I was pulled over in June and my car impounded (new to me car, might I add - owned only 2 weeks by then), I put in to have the decision rescinded because I was never notified - but the DMV is its own system. This wasn’t a “decision” in the legal sense, and it would not be rescinded.

The School of Hard Knocks Offers a Master’s Degree

Apparently agreeing to pay restitution to my co-worker for his out-of-pocket expenses is what screwed me, and made this no longer an employment law matter. So much for “doing the right thing.”

There was nothing I could do or say to combat the $4,870 insurance levy, nor point out the clear insurance fraud (what the heck does a passenger-side tail light have to do with a 3-mph nudge to the driver’s side?!). And every lawyer I called either never called back or claimed conflict of interest.

I’ve been homebound ever since.

In the smallest town in New Hampshire.

Without a support network.

Taxis don’t come out here. There’s no such thing as public transportation. The nearest grocery store is a 30-minute drive away. To Uber it, would be $40 one way - not counting the added fees for rural service.

My husband at the time wasn’t any help either. Two years before that happened, he’d told another woman he was falling in love with her. Three months after he said that, my first and only friend died. I was utterly alone in the world when this happened.

Losing my license only served to further degrade our nonexistent bond.

So I Helped Myself

July 1, 2016 was my last anxiety attack. I networked my butt off to land a job back in my field, as marketing director for 1 of 4 people in the world with that expertise. July 2018, I left that job for an invitation to “test” his suitcase of sex toy inventions, and the sudden 180 on every bit of advice I ever gave - but only because it now came from a 15-year-old male.

I took it as an opportunity to rebuild my business, having tried for the last year with minimal success because I had to schedule meetings around a 9-to-5. Less than 30 days later, I landed my first good client - but it wasn’t enough according to my then-husband. October 2018, I made the decision to leave him. Being homeless again was better than living with someone who would never understand what it means to love an entrepreneur.

Then the Universe conspired to help me. Someone I served in a previous job, took me in to his home. A previous client who owed me 3 years in hosting fees suddenly cropped up, wanting access to their domain. I played hardball with their lawyer - and won, just in time to get some oil for the furnace in the bitter December cold.

January 2019, I was approached by a traditional publisher interested in my non-fiction work. That turned into a 2-hour phone call with the proprietor of 4 companies, and a contract gig doing exactly what I always knew would be my destiny.

Roses Smell So Sweet - But Beware the Thorns

You might not think working from home is all that hard - until you realize it’s 90 hours sitting at a desk, and that I was born with rheumatoid arthritis. I was told at 12 that I would be walking with a cane by 20, and wheelchair bound by 30 - but doctors don’t know everything. I’m 34 as I write this, and still a very capable dancer, hiker, swimmer, and sports enthusiast, because I’ve been extremely proactive about my health.

It’s also become apparent that I’ve been managing diabetes all these years too - when my diet changed for the move into another household, I kept getting light-headed, even passing out once, and my feet began turning purple. I’m managing that, too.

The person I’m living with is 5 years younger, without the life experience I’ve had - so even when he wasn’t working 6 days a week, being dependent on him for absolutely everything has resulted in little more than frustration.

In fact, 10 days ago I suffered a total mental meltdown. Someone I hoped to call friend longer than these last 2 years broke a 5-month-old promise to visit - and it was my last hope. When the last day of her week-long vacation came and went without a plan, I spent the evening in hysterics - banging my head against the carpet in my home studio.

The next day, I picked myself up again.

I can’t say that I have nobody.

I have me.

And I am grateful for this life, because I am clearly being groomed for something magnificent.

What it is, I haven’t the slightest clue - and I love that. Life is a mystery we unfold one minute at a time, and I am so very curious.

This past Saturday, I went surfing for the first time. It’s been a lifelong ambition, and I did surprisingly well given my horrible track record on snowboards, skateboards, and plain walking on flat ground.

“Tomorrow is always too late.” Even though I don’t have much for resources, I saw an opportunity to do something I’d always wanted to - and did.

Was I afraid? Sure. But fear is the least of my concerns. It’s all in my head - and if I’ve learned anything at all by overcoming anxiety in 5 years, it’s that -I- am in control of what happens between these two ears.

Aloha Hā’awina, Māhālo Kūmū

The belief I hold which serves me so well, is very simple:

There is always another way, and better places.

And I will find it.

Last night, I started putting together a speaker one-sheet. I’ve had a great deal of success working with this company since January. Every book that has launched under my watch - every single one - has made bestseller, making 23 bestsellers for our traditional publishing arm as I write this.

I’m getting out of this house, and will see the world - one way, or another.

Follow my journey here on Tumblr, LinkedIn, and Instagram.