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mollyrealized · 11 months ago

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How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.” I mean, this is … what … '88? '88, '89. So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No." And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.” You know, “This is eel. This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"

We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be – it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course." I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.” But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”. I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sushi #whale #the cove #oscars 2010 #coraline #mini secret compartments #howneilmetmichael #howmichaelmetneil

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

#pluralistic #ada palmer #worldcon #hugos #china #science fiction #fanac #publishing #censorship #systems of information control during information revolutions #scholarship

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comicaurora · 7 months ago

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Tarren having a hypermobility disorder is actually making me so incredibly emotional :']

I don't think i've ever seen hEDS or similar disorders ever really represented in fiction, and as a hypermobile person myself it means so much!!

(also, i'm curious—did you talk with Cyan about her experience with hEDS when writing Tarren? i know she talks about it on her instagram during EDS awareness month)

I'm glad!!

It's more that Tarren came out of conversations we've already had and things I've noticed when we hang out! EDS and its consequences come up a lot in her daily life, and she's very nice about explaining things to me when I'm confused or I have extremely clumsily phrased follow-up questions.

I remember the exact day Tarren took shape in my head, Cyan and I were speeding through an airport together trying to get to a connecting flight in a layover that had shrank from an hour down to fifteen minutes, and my writer-brain was just noticing how she was using her mobility aids to absolutely motor. They were tools designed to help her move through the world, and she was very good at using them. Something in my writer-brain clicked.

Another thing I've learned is that airports and convention venues have a lot of ADA violations to answer for but that's a sternly worded email for another time

#also I have been subject to that exact party trick many a time #asks #aurora

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scribefindegil · 2 months ago

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Lorraine Baines McFly and Female Autonomy

Hello. I have spent the past month slowly losing my mind about Lorraine Baines McFly, Marty's mom in Back to the Future, so I am finally trying to articulate some of the reasons I'm so feral about her.

There's a quote from Lea Thompson, the actress who played Lorraine, that goes, "The three parts that women usually get to play are virgins, whores, and mothers, and in Back to the Future Part II, I got to play all three." While this is commentary on Hollywood and the limited roles that fictional women get forced into, I think it's also interesting to think about it in terms of how these roles are reflected onto actual women and used to limit their personhood and confine them to a very narrow range of acceptable behaviors . . . and then in turn to think about how the character interacts with these roles on a Watsonian level. They're affecting not just Lorraine the character as she was written, but Lorraine from an in-universe perspective trying to navigate life as a woman in a patriarchal world. Some of the sexism she faces is a deliberate narrative choice and some of it is a result of the writers' blind spots, but for the purpose of this essay I'm less interested in teasing out which threads are which and more in looking at it holistically.

Because the thing about Lorraine is that she's aware of what the acceptable roles and behaviors for women are, and the versions that we see of her across the various timelines alternately fight against and capitulate to these constraints. What is a woman allowed to be? How much is Lorraine willing to break from those restrictions? How much does she allow other women to break from them? Does she resent her role or embrace it? I have a lot of thoughts specifically about how the different iterations of her interact with concepts of female agency and autonomy.

(Putting this under a cut because it is. Long.)

I started thinking about this when I was talking with my partner about 50's Lorraine. She's extremely active and driven and planning to Get What She Wants (in a way that is very scary, if you are Marty) . . . but at the same time she's clearly aware that she isn't supposed to be. A Good Fifties Girl is demure and passive. Lorraine isn't--but she's still trying to toe the line. I think constantly about the scene where she shows up at Doc's garage to be like "I followed you home . . . so that I can ask you to ask me to the dance." The girl can embrace borderline stalking but she draws the line at directly asking a boy out! She's exercising a lot of agency but views doing so as rebellious and subversive--and risky.

And I also want to talk about the whole "boy crazy" thing because like . . . society (especially in the fifties) tells women that the most important thing they can possibly do is find a good man and become wives and mothers, that this will define the success or failure of their entire lives (and given how many things were unavailable to single women at the time this is in many ways true) . . . and then relentlessly mocks and punishes anyone who actually takes an interest in pursuing this instead of just sitting back passively and waiting. She is trying to do what society says will make her happy! And even her desire for a white knight is very much based in the reality of her situation! She's getting sexually harassed at school and around town and she's doing exactly what she's supposed to and standing up for herself and saying no and fighting back--and this is not enough. She does need backup! Biff harasses her in the middle of a crowded cafeteria and Marty is the ONLY person who does anything! No fucking wonder she latches onto him as hard as she does! (There's. I promise this is related but there's a BttF parody musical on YouTube where when Strickland comes to break up the lunchroom fight he says, "Now, I can excuse sexual harassment, but LIGHT SHOVING?" and like it's a haha funny joke but also?? Yeah?? That IS how it works. The way Lorraine's being treated is so overlooked and normalized that the authority figure isn't going to step up the way he will when it's a physical altercation between two guys. Screams.) I wonder if part of the reason she stuck with George in the original timeline even though they didn't have a lot in common is that "I have a boyfriend" is a boundary that some people might actually take seriously whereas "I'm not interested" is not.

But. In general 50's Lorraine is very much about grabbing as much agency as she feels she's allowed to . . . and then Twin Pines Lorraine is what happens when she regrets the result of those choices (because while we don't see it, it's pretty obvious that in the original timeline she pursued George as aggressively as she pursues Marty in the new one), and so she decides to deny, not just her own agency, but female agency as a general concept. She leans so heavily on the idea that her relationship was "meant to be" because it absolves her of any culpability in creating a life she's unhappy with. She's rewritten her own past to view herself as a passive participant in something inevitable. (Exactly the view of womanhood that she was fighting so hard against in the 50's!) And she extends this idea of female passivity to the women around her: telling Linda that she should sit back and wait and a relationship will "just happen," actively resenting Jennifer for doing something as simple as calling Marty on the phone. It's a really interesting form of internalized misogyny, perpetuating these sexist ideas as almost a misguided form of self-defense.

And then for Lone Pine Lorraine this is completely flipped! She loves Jennifer for the same reason she disliked her in Twin Pines: because she reminds Lorraine of her younger self. And like . . . this is something of an extrapolation, but while obviously her husband and kids are still very important to her, it also feels like she has interests and friends and other things going on in her life, whereas part of the isolation of Twin Pines is that her life has shrunk down to the point where she's ONLY a wife and mother with nothing else to define herself by. And it also matters that in this timeline she has a partner that supports her, not just in the big dramatic moments (although also that), but you can easily see the dance as a catalyst for George actually learning to listen to her and stand up for her about smaller things as well. George McFly feminism arc. (I'm being slightly facetious but like. George starts off kind of shitty. The spying is actively Bad and I hope Marty chewed him out for it offscreen, but also his reaction to the harassment scene being "I think there's someone else she'd rather go with," implying that he sees what Biff is doing as like. Normal flirting that he expects to work. He doesn't GET it. Unsurprising because he is. A teenage boy in the fifties. But I do believe that saving Lorraine was something of a wakeup call and after that he listened to her about things that make her uncomfortable and gave her the support that she needed. Which would also give her a lot more freedom in this timeline because she has someone with more societal power who has her back!)

And then. Hell Valley.

If Lone Pine is the version of Lorraine who has the most freedom, the most opportunities to make decisions based on what she wants instead of What Is Expected Of A Woman, Hell Valley is the opposite. The things denying her agency in Twin Pines is largely societal forces (and herself); in Hell Valley she is actively being denied autonomy by her evil husband who functions as the personification of a bunch of sexist ideas.

She's been objectified to the point that she doesn't maintain control over her own body; Biff pressures her to get cosmetic surgeries so she can continue to look attractive to him because that's the only value he sees in her. Her physical appearance is entirely tailored to his preferences.

Biff's view of Lorraine is wife-as-possession. He treats her like a prize he's won and her kids like parasites. And he is NOT subtle about this. But Lorraine is still desperately clinging to the idea that she's wife-as-family. She calls Biff "your father" to Marty when he arrives, and talks about "our children" because she wants so so badly for this to be something different than what it is. It's especially terrible because this is a timeline where she got seventeen years of being happy with George, she knows what she's missing, and she keeps trying to force this new relationship into a similar mold even though Biff is openly contemptuous of her and especially her kids. It's been twelve years and she's still trying to pretend. To call back to that Lea Thompson quote: it's obvious where Biff thinks Lorraine fits on the virgin-mother-whore axis, while Lorraine is actively trying to centralize her motherhood partially because the kids really are that important to her and partially as a defense mechanism.

(And it's also such a bleak cautionary tale about how fragile women's stability can be when they're dependent on their husbands; Lorraine was happy with George and had a fair amount of freedom, but he was the only one with an income so when he died she was suddenly forced into a truly horrific situation because she had no other means to support herself and her three young children. Especially given that the Hell Valley universe is also worse in some broader political ways that mean there were probably even fewer social supports available than in real life 1973)

And god. It kills me the way that we see her lash out, the way she's clawing for autonomy when she threatens to leave . . . and then exactly how Biff levels all his axes of control against her. It's very interesting that his first tactic is consumerist (Who will pay for all your things? Who will take care of you?) and that doesn't work even though not being able to support herself is a very real concern. It's only when he threatens her kids that she folds. And then she immediately crumples and pivots to rationalizing Biff's behavior and blaming herself for her own abuse (in a way that is both HEARTBREAKING and also? surprisingly sympathetic and realistic for an 80's movie?). It's similar to the passivity we see in Twin Pines, but here we see exactly where it comes from. She doesn't have any way out so she has to pretend. It's the only way she can keep going. She has these flashes of rage but they're immediately snuffed out by despair and denial.

There's not a lot of talk about Lorraine and what there is tends to reduce her to "well she's Marty's mom" as if she's a boring character who doesn't have a lot going on. But even though most of her role in the movies has to do with her relationships with the various men in her life, those relationships are really interesting if you actually pay attention to them! She's not just (in the 80's) a wife and mother--she's someone who has a complex relationship with marriage and motherhood and the societal expectations surrounding them. She's not just (in the 50's) a vapid boy-crazy girl--she's doing her best to go after what she wants in a world that doesn't want her to (the fact that one of the things she wants turns out to be her time-traveling son from the future is unfortunate but not something she has any way of knowing!). She's stuck in a society that doesn't want women to be people, and she knows this, and because we see her across two different time periods and three different timelines you can watch how sometimes society grinds her down until she gives in and tries not to be a person. And also how, sometimes, she fights back.

#back to the future #bttf #lorraine baines mcfly #this is what i mean when i say that lorraine has SO many interesting things going on and i do not think that most of them were on purpose #but i'm here and i have a shovel.#anyway. i would kill for her.

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sirxlla · 17 days ago

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Anemia

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

Warnings: Fainting. Fluff.

Prompt: Jason taking care of his S/O after they faint (requested by anon)

Notes: gender of reader, italics are actions and thoughts. i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Tim was going to give blood and it sounded like a good way to help out the community due to their being a recent shortage, one of the facilities had recently burnt down so you went with him. Jason tagged along because he had a an errand to run around the area where the blood bank was; He was swapping old books out for new and the library was closer so you guys did that first to get it out of the way.

Needles were never overly too much on an issue when you normally got blood tests and things done but oh did you anticipate this incorrectly. The needle had to be in your arm for so much longer and you were starting to feel it a bit but thought it was nothing. Jason held your hand the entire hand, you hadn't even asked or overly needed it until the end but he did it anyways. The blonde nurse held a cottonball over the needle as she pulled it out to stiffle the blood before gently wrapping your arm in the elastic wrap bandage albeit a bit too tight.

After she was done with you she started flirting with him because of course almost every woman did considering how handsome and charismatic he was and the air of confidence that happened to surround him entirely. Jason was a very secure man in his masculinity and himself so he tended to find men and women flirting with him at almost every occasion. He was trying to be nice because you wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could.

You were annoyed at this point because you weren't feeling the best because of how much blood gotten taken so you tried to stand up and as soon as you did everything went black for just a moment, you are almost positive that you would end up hitting the ground but of course Jason being that kind of man he was and how just because it seemed like he wasn't paying attention didn't mean he actually wasn't his arms came around you and securely held you up guiding you back to the chair.

"Woah...Hey..." He spoke gently as you came back to and your vision filled back with color and focused itself in place.

"You got to be careful, Baby." With that one word 'Baby' the nurse backed off. Jason almost smiled has he noticed that she backed off.

"Do you want me to carry you?" At this point he was almost showing off. He had that smirk on his face that told you he most definitely was boasting.

It was also something that you loved so much the way that he almost bragged about the fact that he was with you, it made you feel like you were important. You are the apple of his eye and he saw no one else, the two of you could talk fictional characters or celebrities and all that sort of thing all day long but when it came to a true living person he'd ever come in contact with, he wanted no one else but you.

Tim had gave blood and then he had for some reason just to vanished off into the midst of wherever cause he had forgot his and Bernard anniversary so he ran off and failed to tell anyone about. Of course everyone knew that he could take care of himself so they left him to go on about whatever he needed.

There was nothing to do but take you home Jason had already done his errand which was fairly quick all things considered. Jason went to the library so constantly that he had their own personal phone number, one of the head Librarians there and he texted him what books he needed and then he could pick them up whatever he they were ready.

Of course it probably didn't hurt the fact that Jason made good sizable donations to the place. He has so much extra money lying around because he doesn't spend it like his other brothers do due to growing up in the shitholes of Gotham.

It was something that was exceedingly important to him because of course online was great but there was nothing in his mind even remotely came close to the hard copy of a book.

"Come on, Sweet Cheeks." He said with that same cocky tone as he scooped you into his arms picking you up like you weighed nothing.

Jason somehow consistantly found different pet names to call you just to keep you on your toes, there was something baout the wat your eyes lit up when he would find a new good one to add to his collection.

He guided you to your red Jeep that he had bought you for your birthday. You had been planning on getting a vehicle for a while but you were trying to save up for it; Before you knew it, he handed you some keys in the middle of work. Jason acted like it was nothing. Naturally, he knew when money was important due to the way he grew up before Bruce but he used it so sparingly Bruce had to often remind him it was even there.

Also in his mind, getting you the Jeep didn't hurt cause then he didn't have to stay out of bed til the ass crack of dawn after his night patrols to drive you to work.

He gently set you in the passenger seat and he buckled your seatbelt for you, something he definitely didn't need to do but the small things were that done naturally without him even even thinking about it.

He slid into the driver's, texted Tim he and you were headed home and Jason made his way across the city Gotham traffic.

"Babygirl, Let's get you some food, what would you like? Oh, who am I kidding it's always the same with you." He laughed and smiled widely, his free hand reaching over the middle console to hold yours.

"It's alright, just relax okay?" He could see the color in your face that had drained substantially compared to before your blood was drawn, it was obvious to him and to yourself that it was probably not a good idea to give so much blood. With the way you were feeling it was possible that you are anemic and didn't even know it, the sluggishness and lightheadedness were good signs of it.

Jason went through the drive-thru and got your favorite food from your favorite place. He knew your order without even asking, handing it to you as he parked in the parking lot of the restaurant. He just wanted you to feel better so he let you eat your food and slowly the color slightly came back to your cheeks.

"You feelin okay, Beautiful?" Concerned still lacing his tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jay." You smiled slightly and ate your food feeling a lot better. Of course he was still worried about you, that came to him naturally to him. He knew that you would be okay though but that wouldn't stop him from keeping you in bed the rest of the night. The two of you watched movies and he made sure you were feeling better. Not that you ever wanted to but he never let you give blood like that again.

(Send me prompts if you want)

Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #batboys

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lvis44 · 16 days ago

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Cabin Fever - Pt. 3 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: A bit more drama for you guys tonight but this is nothing compared to what we've got coming up, oopsie lol. Hoping to get the next part out quickly so it kinda aligns with the holidays in real time! I would also formally like to start an important conversation about why the hell this man only seems to own winter jackets the color of a highlighter (im sure it's for safety when snowboarding but pls). I love you all and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying our angsty little Christmas fic!

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

**italics are a jump back in time**

The moment you make your way downstairs the next morning you are ready to turn and run back up to your room. You can hear everyone in the kitchen already, much to your surprise. Their voices are much louder than you would have wanted but you carry on, aware that the only way you’re getting coffee is by showing your face in there.

“Well good morning sleepy head! I was wondering when you’d show up.” Your dad greets you warmly.

“Hey I was up long before any of you yesterday.” You argue as he pulls you into a side hug.

“I do believe I was up before you.” Lewis pipes up with a smirk.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” You grumble, trying to conceal the roll of your eyes but when you meet Lewis’ gaze you know you’ve failed, “I need coffee, lots of it.”

Tom laughs from over at the coffee bar where he seems to be making himself some sort of fancy espresso, “Coming right up.”

You thank him, taking a seat next to your brother at the island, watching the chaos ensuing on the other side of the kitchen. Your mother, Beatrice, and Vanessa are in what seems to be party planning mode. They’re rummaging through cupboards and running back and forth to the fridge, Vanessa has a notebook out creating some sort of list, Beatrice is loudly reading some recipe from her phone.

“How long has this been going on?” You ask the men at the counter, trying to keep your voice low.

“About twenty minutes, they’ve probably got another twenty in them.” Lewis says, picking up his coffee and watching the scene himself.

You let out a deep breath, already exhausted by the amount of energy flowing through the room, praying you don’t somehow get sucked into it as well.

“Y/N, thank goodness you’re up!” Vanessa says excitedly, finally noticing your presence on one of her trips around the kitchen.

“Good Morning.” You respond softly, trying not to allow any chance of being roped into whatever is going on.

“So,” Vanessa's voice comes out chipper and matter of fact as she puts her palms down on the counter, evidently ready to give you the full run down, “I felt so bad yesterday, I had so many things planned for a fancy breakfast and the weather just had to ruin it all so I really want to make up for all of it today. Thank you again for pulling that off yesterday, I was so grateful, but I want a big fancy family brunch, we haven't had one in so so long and I’ve been thinking about it since I started planning this trip. And I don’t want it to be our Christmas morning brunch, I want it to be its own special moment, ya know?”

You can tell that your eyebrows have gotten higher on your forehead with every word that she has said, speaking faster than you could ever comprehend at the early hour. You hear your brother take a deep breath from next to you as Lewis chuckles lowly.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful, very talented ladies doing the cooking.” Tom tells his daughter before setting a delicious smelling cup of coffee down in front of you, “Here you go Y/N.”

“Thank you, it smells fantastic.” You say sincerely, happily wrapping your chilly hands around the warm cup.

“It better, I brought my own beans and everything. That should be the best cup of coffee you’ve had in your life.” He tells you proudly.

“It was a phenomenal cup of coffee.” Lewis says with an amused smile on his face, one that Tom seems to read as more genuine than you think it really is.

“Very good, very very good.” Dylan is quickly agreeing.

“Now listen,” Vanessa’s voice is quick to grab your attention again, “you did such an amazing job yesterday with breakfast and then helping with all the storm cleanup,”

Before she can finish Lewis lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff, cutting her off, “I don’t know if I would call whatever she was doing yesterday helping.” His voice is muffled by the rim of his coffee mug but you can hear the cheek to his voice, more teasing than the jabby tone it usually carries for you, you assume it's because of the current company.

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your brother is joining in quickly, “I mean she made a valiant effort but I do think I have to agree with Lewis on this one.” He’s laughing as he pinches at your side.

You try to find the right words to argue your defense but you realize you really can’t, thinking back to your ways of helping the day before.

You had started strong, initially heading out after breakfast to try to clean up all the branches that had been blown into the yard, that lasted for only twenty minutes before Lewis and Dylan were getting the plow and skidoo out of the garage. Once the big toys were out you had no more interest in your handheld rake and shovel. You had gone over to inspect the new fun equipment but were quickly shooed away by both Lewis and your brother, both claiming you were going to get in the way and possibly end up hurting yourself. You had accepted defeat, heading back to your sad pile of branches before once again getting quite distracted by the fun sound of the engine on the skidoo. You had done your best to act as if you were still working but you had ended up watching Lewis zip around the yard for much longer than you would have liked to admit. There was something about his level of both control and chaos behind the handlebars that scratched your brain just right and it irked you and brought you immense satisfaction all at once. Once your brother had gotten into the swing of plowing, Lewis following him down the hill to keep Vanessa's mind at ease, you had gotten back to your sad attempt at branch removal, by the time they made it back up to the house you were collecting your armful.

“Y/N you do know that it’s been a full hour and you don’t even have enough sticks to make a mouse a campfire, right?” Lewis had taunted you when he saw you walking across the driveway as he removed his goggles, your brother laughing as he hopped out of the plow.

“Oh fuck off, at least I was doing something, you were just joyriding.” You said sassily, quickly changing course so you weren’t walking directly past him.

“I,” He started, his voice long and drawn out to dramatically make his point, “was keeping your brother safe. The buddy system is very important, you know.”

“A knight in shining,” You started to say but before you could get the whole sentence out you were falling flat on your ass, your abysmal stick pile flying everywhere.

“Woah Y/N, shit you alright?” Your brother was quick to react, leaving his open truck door to run over to you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Lewis huffed out, also quickly making his way over to you.

They had both been there within an instant, squatting next to you to make sure you were alright. Your brother was handling you like fine china even though he could tell you were okay, Lewis however was immediately giving you shit.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like twelve hours and this is the second time you’ve fallen in front of me, right?” The tone of his voice was unamused despite offering you his hand to help pull you up.

“I did not fall last night.” You had tried to defend yourself as he got you to your feet, your brother still giving you a worried look like he thought you had secretly broken something.

“Because I caught you.” He had quickly pointed out.

“Whatever.” You grumbled as you bent down to collect your stick pile, admittedly leaving a good half of them behind before once again heading toward your brother's brush pile off by the shed. Before you could even make it half way, a very well aimed snowball was colliding with your ass cheek, once again knocking the sticks out of your arms.

“I am going to fucking kill you.’ You had exclaimed loudly, quickly gathering a large armload of snow to form into your own snowball before turning around and whipping it in their direction. You ended up hitting your brother, immediately feeling a little bad because you assumed it had come from Lewis in the first place. Lewis let out a cackle when the snowball hit your brother, evidently pleased that he hadn’t been the one to get in trouble.

“Oh hell no, that was meant for you.” Dylan had said, also laughing but incredibly serious, his own snowball already being packed tightly to whip at Lewis. Much to your pleasure, Dylan was much closer to Lewis and was much stronger than you so you could tell the impact didn’t feel amazing when it finally slapped into his chest.

“I just thought you should put some ice on it after that fall, I was trying to be helpful.” Lewis laughed as he put his arms up to guard himself from any further snowballs being sent his way. You and your brother exchanged a look, both of you loading up again, hurling snow in Lewis’ direction.

He screamed as he turned to run, his snow gear making him much less agile than he would normally be. He had finally found steady footing, his own snowballs being sent in both of your directions, all three of you in a fit of laughter. Somewhere along the line your alliance with your brother had crumbled, his snowballs being sent your way as well, no longer reserved for just Lewis. By the time you finally called truce you had all been absolutely soaked, your stomachs hurting from laughing so hard and your pile of sticks long forgotten. When you made your way back to the house you had found yourself very surprised at how playful and fun that time with Lewis had been but you decided that it must have been a bit of a fluke, knowing it wouldn’t last the rest of the day.

You try to think of a way to argue your defense but you have to admit to yourself that you really can’t, you truthfully didn’t do any actual storm cleanup yesterday.

“It’s the thought that counts, I tried.” You grumble into your mug as the two men laugh.

“Well, either way, you absolutely slayed it with breakfast and putting up with them,” Vanessa gives you a smirk, trying to take away their ammunition, “so I want you to just relax this morning, Moms and I will take care of all things brunch, you just enjoy the pretty scenery and your amazing coffee.”

You smile at her, mouthing a thank you, grateful that you are not expected to be part of the brunch circus that is unfolding in the kitchen before you. Your mother and Beatrice are still frantically figuring out if they have everything for some recipe that they have selected. You sit back, watching as Vanessa returns to her chaos with your mothers, seeming weirdly at home within it. Tom and your father begin loudly discussing just where Tom is sourcing his coffee beans, raising the volume of the kitchen just that much more. You go to turn to your brother, only to find him standing from his seat to rinse out his coffee cup. Lewis is grabbing his phone and eagerly taking a call, leaving the room rapidly. You let out a sigh, choosing to make your way into the den with your coffee, hoping for some level of peace in there. The room is cozy, a fire already going and a light snow falling outside the large windows. You try to settle into one of the plush couches but as you sit there you feel yourself growing more and more aggravated. On one side you can hear your family in the kitchen, all talking loudly about different subjects that don’t even meld together into anything coherent, on the other side you can hear Lewis’ muffled voice on the phone. You can’t actually make out anything that he’s speaking about but the low timbre is enough to be disruptive. You find it hard to believe that in a house of this size you can’t find any silence, yet here you are, you shouldn’t be shocked with it being your family. You decide you can only take so much and come to the conclusion that you would rather be out in the cold and quiet than in here with the chatter. You take your coffee and head off to the foyer to find your winter gear to bundle up, the better idea of just going to your room nowhere to be seen in your head. You get as cozy as possible, grabbing a blanket out of the den before heading back to the kitchen.

“I think I’m just gonna go sit out back for a little while and appreciate the view while I have my coffee.” You awkwardly announce as you make your way to the backdoor, raising your blanket in your hand as you do.

“That sounds absolutely lovely, enjoy yourself!” Beatrice exclaims, overly enthusiastic about your plans.

When you first step out of the house you begin to question your plans, the cold air immediately hitting your face and wrapping you in an unforgiving cocoon, but the moment the door closes behind you, you’re at peace. The door seals your family and their loud chatter away wonderfully, just the gentle howl of the wind and small noises of things falling in the forest left to be heard. You make your way across the covered deck, settling into one of the luxurious outdoor couches overlooking the large backyard and forest. You snuggle as far as possible into your blanket, trying to keep as much of your body heat as possible. You can feel a deep sigh leave your body as you take in your surroundings, admitting to yourself that as much as you hate winter, you do love the beauty of the blanketing of snow. You sit in silence for a while, just sipping your coffee and enjoying the peaceful way the world is waking up, the snow falling gently. It sadly doesn’t take long for your silence to be interrupted, the door opening behind you. You let out a huff when you see who is making their way outdoors.

“Ocupado.” You say sassily as you turn your attention back out to the view in front of you.

Lewis just scoffs, making his way over to sit on one of the couches near you.

“Seriously, I just need some silence. Do you have nowhere else to go?” You groan childishly, seeing him settling into his seat.

“I let you get warm in front of my fire yesterday, I think you can share the silence of your deck with me now.” He says, his voice just as sassy.

You go to argue with him, wanting to tell him that it’s not the same and his fire was in the den, a common area, but you quickly realize that this too is a common area that you have no monopoly over. You decide to bite your tongue, rolling your eyes as he settles deeper into the couch, pulling his phone out. You decide to do the same, feeling awkward staring into the trees now that you have company. It doesn’t take long before the first post from a friend is popping up on your feed. She is back in California, a small party dress on that would have you getting hypothermia here. The post is about a party that you had known would be happening, a fun Christmas get together with a bunch of your friends that you would have loved to have been at, carefree and ridiculous fun. You let out a huff as you scroll through her post, the fomo eating you alive as you do so.

“Thought you wanted silence.” Lewis grumbles from his spot at the sound of your huff, his voice already laced with annoyance.

“So sorry to disturb you, your highness.” You fire back at him sarcastically.

“It’s just sir, I’m a knight, not technically royalty.” He replies, his voice so cocky that it makes you want to smack him, only stopping when you see the slightly teasing smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes again, not even having the energy to come up with something witty to say back to him in the moment.

“Seriously though, what’s got you in such a mood?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, much to your surprise.

“I’m not in a mood.” You mutter, burrowing further into your blanket, your attention back on your phone.

He lets out a chuckle at your response, “Yeah the huffing and puffing really sells that narrative well.”

“Oh shut up, you know I don’t particularly want to be here, just let it go.” You say quietly, not wanting your family to hear your disdain for your surroundings.

“I know, and me being here probably isn’t helping that, but it seemed like there was something else going on. Thought you saw something that was upsetting you.” He says casually, shrugging like it’s a normal conversation for the two of you to be having.

You’re taken aback by his casual and genuinely curious nature, not being used to anything like this from Lewis. It takes your guard down, quicker than it should. You let out a sigh, deciding, against your better judgement, to confide in him a little bit. You know he could come back with some level of snippy remark but you were prepared for that, maybe he would actually have a normal conversation with you for once.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but seeing everyone enjoying their lives as adults and doing what they want, where they want, I don’t know, it’s just driving me a bit insane.” You divulge, not getting your point across in quite the way you meant to.

He raises an eyebrow at you, evidently rather confused by what you mean, “I mean, you’re an adult, you spend 99% of the year doing what you want, where you want. What’s the problem?”

You just shake your head, deciding to instead show him the post that caused the initial huff. You watch as his brows furrow while he scrolls through the instagram post you handed him. Quickly his face turns from curious to judgemental. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he finally hands you your phone back.

“So you’d rather be back in the smog of LA where you can’t even tell it’s Christmas, dressed in a skimpy dress with your friends? You’d prefer that to fresh mountain air, a white Christmas, and your family that loves you?” His tone is belittling as he reads the situation completely incorrectly, his questions coming out more as statements, as if nothing that you say now will change his mind.

Your jaw drops at the accusation, a loud scoff leaving your throat as you snatch your phone back from him, “How dare you, that was not the point I was trying to make.” You begin to argue before he’s cutting you off.

“You see those people all the time Y/N, how often do you see any of your family?” He raises his brow in challenge but doesn’t give you time to formulate a response before he’s carrying on, “We all know you don’t want to be here, just suck it up, a little bit of winter mountain air and family time isn’t going to kill you.” He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, he just stands from his seat as if he’s just finished reprimanding a child and walks away, back inside.

He leaves you in your seat, silent and fuming but also leaving you feeling a tad guilty. He is correct, you don’t want to be here, but it has nothing to do with you preferring to be out in a skimpy dress in LA, it’s about your freedom. Having the freedom to do as you please and be where you want, something you haven’t had a ton of in your life. You hate that everyone knows that you would prefer to be somewhere else, making you feel as if you’re almost a burden. You hate that Lewis feels that he has the right to make such deep assumptions about you and treat them as fact and you hate even more that he feels he has the right to lecture you based on those assumptions.

You end up staying out on the back deck much longer than you had originally planned, only finally making your way back indoors when Vanessa announces that brunch is served. You do your best to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Instead you spend most of brunch quizzing Vanessa on things about her brunch that in all honesty you aren’t particularly interested in, but listening to Vanessa explain how he gets her eggs to fluffy is much better than having to even think about dealing with the man sitting at the other end of the table.

It irks you that you can hear him chatting so freely and happily down the table, as if he hadn’t accosted you on the porch mere hours beforehand. You find yourself already making a plan for escape before you’ve even cleared your plate.

Avoiding him throughout the rest of the day ends up being shockingly easy. You take an extra long time getting ready before helping Vanessa and your mom with some last minute gift wrapping. You can’t help but laugh when you see that Vanessa's “last minute stuff” actually appears to be a majority of her gifts, but you don’t complain, knowing it will take up more of your time, and in turn help in your game of avoidance. You can hear Lewis chatting off in the distance, your father quizzing him eagerly on his car collection after hearing he added something new. Lewis gushed with ease, thoroughly entertaining your fathers questions and while it could be considered a nice conversation you felt like it sounded arrogant, flashy.

“Boys and their toys.” Your mom muttered with a laugh, also listening to bits of the conversation, your father now seemingly showing Lewis photos of a car he had back in the nineties.

“Tell me about it, I couldn’t for the life of me get Dylan out of that plow truck when we first bought it and the snow hadn’t even fallen yet.” Vanessa exclaims, shaking her head.

You just laugh as you lean back to stare out the window for a moment, admiring the way the world is beginning to turn blue as the sun goes down. As if he’s noticed it getting dark at the very same moment, Dylan is bursting into the room talking about Christmas lights.

“Get out, we are not finished in here Mr.” Vanessa is quickly squealing, throwing her body in front of the few remaining unwrapped gifts.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan laughs, throwing his hand over his eyes before continuing, “What I was saying is the lights in the forest look like they stayed up through the storm! It’s getting dark so I was hoping we could all take a walk out there, it’ll be beautiful.”

“That sounds nice Dyl, give us just a little time to get ready.” You say softly, eager to see the lights that have your brother so excited.

“Sweet, I’ll go let the guys know.” He says like a little kid, whipping around to go inform them of the new plans.

“He made an absolute wonderland out there, you guys are going to love it.” Vanessa says, already standing up to collect the remaining wrapping paper, shoving things away like she’s now on a time crunch.

You take that as your sign to go change and get ready for a winter walk. When you go to head upstairs you finally cross paths with Lewis who seems to be headed to his own room, you pause for a moment before flicking your gaze away and trying to move past him.

“Joining us on the walk?” He asks, his voice cold, sounding like he’s expectant of a no.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You waver slightly, caught off guard that he had any words for you at all. You wished your voice had come out stronger, not wanting him to feel like he had any sort of upperhand, that he had gotten under your skin.

He does actually look surprised, his eyebrows twitching up in a certain judgemental look of disbelief before he is once again turning on his heel. He doesn’t say a word, just walks away to his bedroom.

When you make your way back downstairs, everyone is there and waiting. Dylan is animatedly explaining how he set up with power for the lights and how they follow all of the groomed paths in a certain pattern. Once he notices that you’re there he is directing everyone to follow him to the back yard, still explaining his tree lighting process on the way. You can’t help the grimace that leaves your body when you step outside, the temperature having dropped drastically since you were out here earlier. You try to just burrow further into your coat, not wanting to complain after being made so aware of your attitude earlier today.

As you wander the paths you find yourself mesmerized, Vanessa was right about the absolute wonderland of it all. The glittery lights look like stars, spanning higher up trees than you would like to think about your brother being, but regardless they are breathtaking. You find yourself falling away from the group a bit, too caught up in admiring the gorgeous trees and trying to keep as much of your warmth in as possible. Your family carries on walking, unaware of your sudden slow pace, Lewis however seems to notice and slows down himself. So much that you almost trip over him, having been blissfully unaware of his presence.

“You okay?” He asks you when you’re steady on your feet.

“I’m just fine Lewis.” Your voice is as cold as the outdoor air as you avoid looking in his direction.

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re shaking like a leaf.” His tone has lost its earlier harshness but still carries that bit of arrogance as you catch him smirking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Just wore the wrong jacket, I’ll be fine.” You argue, keeping your voice short but still pulling your thin jacket tighter. You're mentally cursing yourself for not having worn your puffer.

“Do you want to head back? I’ll walk with you.” His offer catches you off guard, his voice sincere and almost kind as he continues to stare at you, the smirk gone.

“I’m fine,” You say yet again, your voice slightly quieter now, “Dylan worked hard on this, I’ll survive.”

Just as you once again reiterate your argument a gust of wind comes through, picking up the loose snow and blowing it around you sending yet another chill directly down your spine. Lewis evidently notices the cold seeping deeper into your bones, taking it upon himself to make the decision.

“Y/N and I are gonna head back to the house, she’s getting a little too cold, gonna get her something warm, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” He yells ahead to your family against your will.

“Oh, hun, are you okay?” Your mother is immediately concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m not going back.” You start to insist but Lewis is stepping in yet again.

“She’s fine, just wore the wrong jacket. The lights look amazing Dylan, well come see them when she’s warmed up.” Before you can say anything he’s starting to usher you back down the path, Dylan is thanking him and Vanessa is telling you where to find more blankets.

Lewis is guiding you down the path, his body close against your back and his grip firm on your waist as if you don’t know the way. You hate the way he is manhandling you but you have to admit you are relishing in the warmth coming from the proximity. You don’t allow it to go on for too long, wrenching yourself out of his grip once you’re far enough away from your family. You pick up your pace, both in a show of defiance and actually quite wanting to get back to the warmth of the house. You hear him let out a scoff behind you as you throw your little tantrum.

The heat of the house is immediately welcoming, wrapping around you like a hug the moment you open the door. You take a moment to let the heat sink into your bones before even moving to remove your jacket. Lewis stands there watching you for a moment, just shaking his head before taking off his own large puffer.

“What?” You groan, assuming he has a comment to make.

“You know sub zero temps usually require a little more than a flimsy fashion jacket from the mall, right?” His voice is laced with judgement again, the kindness from the forest long gone.

“Oh, would you just fuck off!” You finally properly snap, whipping your head to face him.

““I’m just saying you’re a grown adult and you’re acting like winter is gonna kill you, you can’t even prepare for it” His response is quick, his tone just as snippy as yours, dripping with arrogance.

“I have a fucking parka in my room, I didn’t know how cold it was.” You throw back at him.

“Mmm sure, or you just wanted to look good for the little walk.” He accuses you, his tone condescending.

“Look good for who? I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere!” You fully yell at him, finally done with his jabs.

He ignores the question, his voice raising but not yet actually yelling, “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s good for you to be in the middle of nowhere once in a while?”

“I do not need some asshole who doesn’t even know me giving me fucking life advice, thank you very much.” You snap, no longer yelling but your voice is harsh.

“Well maybe you do because from where I’m standing you would rather be back in LA partying with your friends to post on Instagram than at your brother's beautiful new house with your whole family that loves you. They fucking want you here and you get to fucking see them, stop acting like its pulling fucking teeth for you to be here.” He actually yells this time, momentarily stunning you.

“Why do you even fucking care so much?” You just about scream, praying that your family is still far away from the house. The two of you haven’t even made it out of the foyer yet.

He just stares at you, his eyes hard and his chest heaving slightly. He opens his mouth before quickly snapping it shut, finally letting out a long, deep sigh. “Ya know what, I guess I fucking don’t. Go take a hot shower before you get fucking hypothermia.” He finally mutters harshly as he storms out of the room, his bedroom door slamming shut not long after.

You stand in the foyer, staring down the hallway where he disappeared, still dressed in your winter jacket. You can feel the tears pricking in the back of your eyes, immediately pissing you off that they can be caused by even Lewis. You bite lips, willing the tears to stop, but then you realize, there it is.

It finally feels like Christmas.

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3liza · 4 months ago

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I'm reading Greek and Roman Necromancy by Daniel Ogden and once again encountered the trope of oracular locations and temples keeping snakes for various ritual purposes and "feeding them" on a kind of honey cake, which as far as I know would not be interesting whatsoever to a snake and even if a snake ate a baked good it would probably have trouble digesting it (I assume). so I was mulling this over, and naturally Ogden doesn't address it, I've actually never read any writer on these subjects address the animal husbandry involved with ancient rituals, which is always frustrating , and it occurred to me that snakes wouldn't eat a Twinkie but rodents and insects absolutely would.

if your ritual snakes are just being kept in some sort of enclosure, especially something like a pit or a katabasis (the Greeks were really big on a Amigara Fault-type procedure where people would go into holes in the earth in various ways and then come out of the holes in various ways and during this process be understood to have visited the underworld or received a vision from an oracular ghost such as Trophonius, the mechanical details of the process aren't clear), you probably aren't directly observing them very often except for any part of the rituals that involve handling, during which the snakes wouldn't be eating anyway. but alone in their enclosures with a bunch of bakery snacks, the rodents and bugs could sneak out of hiding and get grabbed by the snakes.

also I imagine a lot of the smoke and mirrors of the staff at these temples involved managing the various sacred animals somewhat like a petting zoo or a feeder goldfish tank at PetSmart, and just disappearing any of them that died so the clients wouldn't see them. it's likely the staff were cleaning, feeding, and taking care of the snakes at various locations and the dogs at the Asclepias temple and so on.

one has to imagine that most temple priesthood were probably just people who had gotten that particular job somehow, and not the ecstatic true believers that are depicted in every classicist romantic painting and most mythological or fictional imaginings of such places. of course there are tons of modern fiction books that imagine the same thing I do, I read The Jaguar Princess by Clare Bell when I was about 13 and loved the plain and practical descriptions of Aztec temple life, the process of creating art, and the anatomical approach to the idea of a were-jaguar (i have no idea if this book stands up, probably not), I think it permanently contextualized my thinking about ancient ritual as practical and pedestrian for the people who worked in that field. it's fun to imagine the blood-soaked ancient temples in any part of the history of humanity being as ho-hum as an Anglican church service, but they probably were for most people.

#daniel ogden #greek and roman necromancy #books #clare bell #the jaguar princess #necromancy #trophonius #katabasis #incubation #blog

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edwardteachswombtattoo · 8 days ago

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"Namby-Pamby in a Silk Gown": Our Flag Means Death, Toxic Masculinity, Queer Culture, and the Feminine Man

So. Masculinity. Piracy. Our Flag Means Death. Gentlebeard. Izzy. Colonialism. What the heck does all this mean?

I've watched a lot of queer media in my life, from John Waters movies to more contemporary modern queer cinema like "Portrait of a Lady on Fire" and "The Handmaiden". I even watched through all six seasons of "The L Word". I had the original DVD box set and everything. But when I think of queer cinema, I think of camp. I think of old classics from the seventies and eighties and nineties. The Watermelon Woman, To Wong Foo, But I'm a Cheerleader!, Female Trouble, etc.

Our Flag Means Death is very camp. I'm not comparing it to classic queer cinema, it's a completely different experience from, say, watching a John Waters movie. But the show clearly pulls influence from classic queer cinema, at the very least for aesthetic purposes, i.e. Wee John's drag look in "Calypso's Birthday" heavily inspired by drag queen Divine. What makes Our Flag Means Death unique is it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness for a show made so long after artful sincerity and unabashed queerness have become "taboo" in Western cinema.

This isn't me trashing modern queer cinema and modern queer fiction. I immensely enjoyed The Handmaiden and Badhaai Do, two excellent pieces of queer cinema that have come out within the past decade. Our Flag Means Death has entered the coveted position of best queer TV show I've personally seen in a very long time because of it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness, not because it's better than anything that came before it...because it's not better or worse than anything that came before it! OFMD is it's own thing, it's own vibe, it's own story.

Our Flag Means Death is a story. And you can either engage with the story as written or engage only with certain small parts of it. The disconnect between audience and writers (and I say this as a writer myself) is that writers (most of them anyway) write stories for a media literate audience. But fundamentally, you do not need to reach a certain threshold of media literacy before you are allowed to engage with a story...you just engage. And this is both bad and good. No one should be barred from engaging with a story because they won't get it or even can't get it. Because if we prevent people who don't get it from engaging with the text, how are they ever going to learn how to engage with the text? They won't, is the answer. You can't gaslight gatekeep girlboss people into media literacy.

Our Flag Means Death is not a complex story. It's very straightforward. If you do not understand what the story is doing, it's not because you're being tricked or lied to: it's because, somewhere along the line, you've misunderstood. So when the story isn't making sense, it's useful to ask yourself: is this bad writing or have I misunderstood what's being said? And sometimes it is bad writing! Sometimes it is! But which is more likely: it's all bad writing or I've personally misunderstood what the story is trying to do? If you don't understand what a story is doing, all these little moments might look like bad writing--because your brain does not know what's happening! Your brain is trying to put a puzzle together but the pieces are all flipped over so you can't see the actual picture!

What is Our Flag Means Death is trying to do? If it's trying to do anything at all, what is it? And why does it make perfect sense for some people while others are confused, angry, even upset? And do they have a right to be? Fundamentally, if you think a story is trying to do something and it's failing at that, you have a right to be upset--and stories have a right to try and fail! That does not necessarily make the story objectively bad!

Our Flag Means Death is trying to commentate on masculinity. Like the oft misunderstood Fight Club (coincidentally, Fight Club was written by a gay man). This is relevant. It's actually all very relevant. There is a difference between what Our Flag Means Death is attempting to do vs. what it actually does. And the line between is thin to the point of nonexistence. The discussion surrounding masculinity and what it means to be a man is just so vast, so entangled with white colonialism and imperialism and racism that any discussion requires an understanding of how these systems function. And Our Flag Means Death invites this discussion--perhaps not intentionally, but it's there. It has to be there. We can't talk about what it means to be a man without talking about race. You cannot write a story featuring an indigenous brown man that partially centers masculinity without at least grazing these topics, intentionally or unintentionally.

This show is a comedy. A romantic comedy. I know that. We all know that. It's not going to spend forty minutes talking about race and colonialism. What it is going to do is have an indigenous man choke out a white colonizer while reading a love letter from his foppy fem boyfriend. What it is going to do is have little Ed murder his abusive white father to protect his mother. What it is going to do is have a bunch of British colonizers die horrifically after being poisoned by a black woman whose establishment they took over. What it is going to do is have Stede burn down a ship full of racist aristocrats while making sure we (the audience) see the servants escaping on a boat in the background while several of the aforementioned aristocrats jump off the burning ship to their probable deaths.

ed you are so fucking hot holy fuck oh my godd holy fuck

Ahem.

Our Flag Means Death is not a subtle show. So when it looks you directly in the eye and says "HEY!! THIS CHARACTER IS BULLYING THIS OTHER CHARACTER WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE A FEMININE GAY MAN! I WONDER WHY THAT IS HMMM???" you should perhaps take that into consideration.

This show loves it's small details, it's winks and nods at the audience. Stede not wearing his rings the morning after "Calypso's Birthday", Wee John having a place to sit at all times, etc. But when it comes to overarching super important plot points? It's never whispered, always shouted. Or whatever Hozier said.

"Some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend" --Izzy to Ed "A proper little seductress" --Izzy to Lucius "Who's the big gal?" --Jack to/about Stede "a heavyset woman in a silk dressing gown" --one of the British naval officers about Stede

White colonial masculinity tightens a proverbial vice around all the men in Our Flag Means Death. Some of them die for it. Others overcome and live beyond it. But it is a system enforced through emotional and physical violence. Bullying from your peers, threats of physical or emotional retaliation for stepping out of line. The coveted status of Man (patriarch, father, husband) and the inferior status of Woman (mother, wife) that must never touch. The status of Failed Man (feminine, weak, soft).

I think Orville Peck and Willie Nelson said it first.

"And I believe to my soul that inside every man is the feminine And inside every lady, there's a deep manly voice loud and clear" ... "And inside every lady, there's a cowboy who'd love to come out And inside every cowboy, there's a lady who'd love to slip out"

The answer to the question What is Our Flag Means Death trying to do? is a simple one. The show tells us, in very few words, what it is trying to do. The answer to Does it succeed in what it's trying to do? is subjective.

Stede's escape from traditional colonial masculinity and his subsequent disavowing of it are subjective interpretations. But what is objective is how Our Flag Means Death chooses to approach masculinity. "Gal", "woman", "namby-pamby", and "seductress" are words used against the least traditionally masculine characters by characters who (arguably) exemplify what being a man is supposed to look like--in other words, they are being degraded by men who exemplify that traditional colonial masculinity. And because they exemplify traditional colonial masculinity, degrading men who do not follow the doctrine is an essential part of that. There must be the status of Man, the status of Woman, and the status of Failed Man that overlaps with the status of Woman. Stede is the Failed Man who overlaps with the status of Woman.

And what of Edward Teach?

This is where the status of Man, Woman, Failed Man, Failed Woman becomes less relevant. Because of course it's all fucking made up and the whole damn concept of the gender binary is colonial nonsense. But it is especially colonial nonsense when we're talking about an indigenous brown man whose concepts of masculinity are so very removed culturally from the fast encroaching shadow of colonization. The divide becomes more vast and deliberate than when we talk about Stede, because Ed and Stede's concepts of what it means to be a man are not fundamentally identical. And then we arrive at the part where Ed chokes out a British colonizer with one hand while reading a letter from his boyfriend with the other hand. And you know, it's very hot and I think we need more of that.

"Calypso's Birthday" is a celebration of queer love and queer joy and it's also where the themes of masculinity and embracing the feminine become so relevant. Because what else is there to say, except how much of this episode hinges on the transformative powers of love and the transformative powers of self-expression through gender fuckery? Wee John and Jim in drag, Izzy (the guy who spent most of last season getting upset that everyone on the fag ship was fagging it up all over the place) in drag, Stede and Ed's first time. And let's not forget the original plan for Episode 6 was for Stede to get a sexy makeover that involved him wearing eyeliner. We were robbed and I will be mad about this for the next 20,000 years.

There's a part of Our Flag Means Death that's about the transformative power of love and another about how toxic masculinity literally kills and another about how artful sincerity is more attractive than ruthless cynicism in fictional media and a big huge one about how you can't critique traditional toxic masculinity without getting into these discussions about colonialism. And Our Flag Means Death does these things very well, even when it's not doing them very well it's still doing them okay. I think the gay pirate show is going to be one of those "classic" pieces of queer media that people look back on fifty or so years from now in the same way people look at queer cinema from the seventies, eighties, nineties, etc. "Oh, Our Flag Means Death? That was a fun time. I wish there were more shows like that nowadays".

#ofmd

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angelfleurry · 2 months ago

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Horror Movies With the DRV3 Boys!:

Hello my loves. I'm so sorry, I know I have requests, but I'm just putting some stuff out for Halloween. Currently in a bit of a writer's block, so I'm awfully sorry for the wait.

Rantaro Amami!:

♡ Oh, he’s PREPARED.

♡ You want snacks? BOOM.

♡ Water? Tea? Some kind of drink? BAM.

♡ Blankets? TADA.

♡ He has it all, he’s so down.

♡ If you’re comfy with it, he likes to have some sort of hold on you the entire time.

♡ Could be intertwining your fingers, having you lean into him or vice versa, something, anything.

♡ He’s honestly really chill in the sense of watching a film.

♡ You can put whatever horror movie you’d like on, he’ll watch.

♡ Makes very hushed comments, as if he’s talking to himself.

♡ Likes to glance over every now and again to see how you’re coping.

♡ If he gets startled by something, he’ll react, but it’s swift.

♡ He’ll flinch, maybe make a noise, and then chuckle it off.

♡ Always chuckles at your reactions.

♡ Unless you’re genuinely upset by something, then he’ll check on you.

♡ If not, he’ll just ask in a light-hearted manner.

♡ He knows you’re fine, but he can’t help but address it.

♡ Thinks it’s cute.

Ryoma Hoshi!:

♡ If motionless was a person, it would be Ryoma.

♡ Is he startled? Is he regretting agreeing to watch this? Is he struggling?

♡ Or, is he enjoying it?

♡ It’s hard to tell.

♡ Impossible, even.

♡ The only way you can really tell he’s alive is when he lets out a smug chuckle or makes a tutting sound, depending on what’s going on.

♡ It all depends on the type of horror movie, too.

♡ I feel like he’d really enjoy Halloween, but can definitely stomach more darker horror films.

♡ Doesn’t mean he likes them though.

♡ Definitely has seen the Chucky movies.

♡ Doesn’t pander to your fright, but he finds it amusing.

♡ He honestly really enjoys watching horror films with you.

♡ It’s nice to be able to tune out from the world and engage in fiction, especially if you’re next to him.

Korekiyo Shinguji!:

♡ I feel like on his own, he does not really watch much media, especially horror.

♡ But, should you introduce him to it, he’ll sit down and observe.

♡ Even if it’s a more grotesque or disturbing film, he still holds a bit of admiration at how creative humanity can be to conjure up films of such nature.

♡ Is definitely a fan of older horror films, as well as films that are more psychologically/emotionally horrifying.

♡ This might just be me projecting, but I feel like Korekiyo would have a soft spot for Carrie.

♡ The 70’s version though, it cannot be beaten.

♡ It’s such an artistic film full of extreme emotion, as well as clear human error, that I really do feel like he would have a bias for it.

♡ It touches a part of his soul, in all honesty.

♡ It would likely be a favourite of his to watch with you should you ever want to watch something.

♡ In his opinion, it’s more of a tragedy than a horror.

♡ The man hardly gets visibly scared.

♡ It’s hard to tell what expression he bares due to the mask, but if you look up at his eyes, or listen in on his breathing, you’ll figure out if he’s scared or not.

♡ I imagine Korekiyo’s unpredictable when it comes to movies, especially horror movies.

♡ He might allow a quick comment, but for the most part I feel he is silent.

♡ However, should the movie present a topic, culture, or place he has knowledge of, he will explain.

♡ I feel like he sits incredibly still during horror movies, so you’ll probably have to hold him first if you want contact.

Gonta Gokuhara!:

♡ Is it a good idea to let Gonta watch a horror film?

♡ You’re not one to baby him, but…

♡ Oh well, if the day would ever come, it would be because he would ask.

♡ And, one day, he did.

♡ “Y/N, Gonta overhear that couples are meant to watch scary movies together, especially on Halloween…”

♡ “Yeah, that’s right.” you’d told him, nodding slightly in confirmation, “Is that something you wanted to do?”

♡ “If Y/N is happy to, then yes! Gonta would very much like to.”

♡ You smiled at that, but felt the need to ask:

♡ “Would you be comfortable watching those sorts of films?”

♡ At his conflicted hesitation, you felt the need to talk again.

♡ “We can always turn it off if you don’t like it.”

♡ Gonta smiled, he liked the sound of that.

♡ And, surely enough, you had to.

♡ He gave it a try, though, and that’s something you really appreciated.

♡ You did manage to sit through Cujo with him, however.

♡ He cried, but he didn’t want to turn it off.

♡ Lots of cuddles were in order after that.

♡ I imagine he tried to be all romantic and make tea for you both.

♡ He’s glad he gave it a try though, and he thanks you for being there with him.

♡ Gonta has a lot of empathy, so horror films aren’t really the best thing to watch with him.

♡ He’s able to feel the fear, the sadness, the pain.

♡ He also feels as if he is watching existing people die.

♡ He’s aware that they’re not real people, but they’re being played by real people, and it feels real, so it’s enough to frighten him.

♡ Makes him feel helpless, he wants to help but he can’t.

♡ Please put a bug documentary on afterwards, or something calming.

♡ Scoop him into a cuddle and he’ll be alright.

Kokichi Ouma!:

♡ Give this man a psychological horror movie and he’s SORTED.

♡ Absolutely loves it.

♡ It’s hard to tell what his opinion on the more gorey movies are.

♡ He sits through them, and will even suggest watching them, but he’ll also judge the heck out of them.

♡ Has commented on how excessive they are as well.

♡ So it’s hard to tell if he enjoys them or not.

♡ Films like Saw or Room 1408 will have him in a chokehold, but he always has something to say.

♡ Also really likes the Chucky franchise.

♡ If he gets scared, no he didn’t.

♡ He can loudly scream or jolt upright, but you didn’t see or hear that.

♡ Loves to have a pillow wedged between his arms.

♡ Has definitely snuck away when you’re engrossed in the film to try and scare you.

♡ Cannot stay still for the life of him - he’s always fidgeting!

♡ I can’t see him being one for cuddling during these films, at least not constantly.

♡ Every now and then he’ll throw himself around you, maybe make a remark on the film as he does so, and then randomly sit back up.

♡ Sometimes he won’t do it at all.

♡ Just depends on how he’s feeling.

♡ Is very obnoxious should he have a drink with him.

♡ Those grape Panta cans will be clicking and hissing, just so you know.

♡ Teases you if you react to any scenes.

♡ He’s a merciless hypocrite like that.

Kaito Momota!:

♡ He’ll definitely big himself up as being able to stomach the genre.

♡ “Don’t you worry, starlight, you can hold on to me!”

♡ But, give him fifteen minutes and he’s beginning to get twitchy.

♡ He’ll probably subtly scoot closer to you, but it’s not because he’s scared totally! Sure! Why would he be scared?

♡ Does the stereotypical guy thing where he leans an arm to wrap around you.

♡ If you look at him afterwards, he’ll act as if he’s doing it for your sake.

♡ No, no. He’s doing it for him.

♡ Cannot sit through ghost movies, he gets a little paranoid.

♡ Even Casper the Friendly Ghost made him nervous at first, so it is probably for the best you stay away from ghost-related movies.

♡ I think he’d be fine with slasher films though.

♡ It just depends on how much comedic effect is thrown in with it.

♡ Cuddling with him is nice, though.

♡ Regardless as to if you get scared easily or not, you’re not gonna pass up the chance to be close to your boyfriend.

Kiibo Idabashi!:

♡ He’s squeamish.

♡ Knows fully well that it is all fiction, but he’ll be processing everything for days after.

♡ “Y/N! Look what they did, look what’s happening!”

♡ He is very vocal should it just be the two of you watching a film.

♡ It’s nice, it’s like your own personal commentator.

♡ Has researched what to do when watching horror movies with his partner.

♡ Likes touching shoulders with you, it gives him a sense of security; keeps him in reality.

♡ Has and will continue to close his eyes during certain scenes.

♡ “Tell me when it’s over!”

♡ He can laugh about his fear afterwards, giggling slightly as he thanks you.

♡ You both scream in unison, it’s quite funny.

♡ If you scream, it’ll set him off.

♡ If Kiibo screams, it could set you off.

♡ And then you’re both screaming before laughing within the next heartbeat.

Shuichi Saihara!:

♡ Shuichi’s a detective, he’s seen some things.

♡ This means that, surprisingly, he’s not as squeamish as one would expect when watching a horror film.

♡ He’ll still find some things disturbing though, and his facial expressions give him away.

♡ Subconsciously clings to you during these moments, and you welcome it.

♡ If something’s incorrect, he’ll point it out.

♡ Then, he realises he’s pointing it out, and worries he’s coming off as too harsh.

♡ But, he’s already said it all, so you just prompt him into explaining why it’s incorrect.

♡ It’s nice to have him explain stuff over an uncomfortable scene, it takes away the edge.

♡ Always makes sure you’re okay with what’s playing.

♡ Cuddles are a given, or just some form of physical contact.

♡ You two share a blanket, and he repeatedly asks if you’ve got enough.

♡ Gives you more blanket than he gives himself, bless him.

♡ Even if you two aren’t effected by the movie, you always like to do something gentle on the mind afterwards.

♡ This could be reading a book side by side, or watching a calm movie, or even just talking.

♡ It’s nice.

♡ He’s nice.

♡ Love’s nice.

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infamous-if · 1 year ago

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Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!

It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao

When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?

I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha

But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!

One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)

thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!

I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol

thanks!! <3

#one year anniversary #Amy yapping

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darlingofdots · 3 months ago

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Something I encounter more and more in fiction is a specific brand of assurance to the reader that I can only ascribe to The Twitter Cop That Lives In Our Heads. There's a pervasive desire to make it clear that, see, I'm intersectional, I'm conscious of the potential problematics of this encounter, I'm one of the good ones, and it's not that I don't understand the impulse and the fear of being called out because I do! It's scary out there! But it is often so grating to be reading a novel and have a conversation be derailed by a brief and pointed exchange about accessibility when not a single character in the book is disabled, or to have a heated makeout sesh interrupted by an explanation of the traffic light system, and the sad thing about this is that it would be absolutely possible to show these things in elegant and unobtrusive ways but for various reasons we are resorting to telling instead.

I know that out here in the world, we talk about enthusiastic and informed consent a lot, and those are very important conversations and this topic should be part of comprehensive and widely accessible sex education everywhere, and if you are entering into a relationship with a new partner, you should probably sit down and lay out explicitly what you are both comfortable with and how you prefer to communicate. HOWEVER. I, the reader of a high-heat contemporary romance novel, do not need to have this discussion with the characters who are about to fuck each other blind after their first date. I do not need to sit in on the equivalent to a new employee's onboarding process where they get told how to use the company intranet. It's boring! It's so dull! Instead, how about we package the information that is actually being transmitted (we are two enthusiastic partners about to fuck each other blind and we are also sensible people who respect each other's preferences and boundaries) in a way that doesn't disrupt the narrative momentum? Maybe interject an "is this okay?" or have one character go "tell me what you want" all sexily. Reference the characters taking note of their partner's reactions. There are a lot of ways to work this kind of Statement of Ethics into your writing, whether it's about sex scenes or trans rights or whatever, and personally I find this much more compelling than a neatly-injected soundbite which always comes off as either overly anxious or performative to me.

A secondary issue here, in my opinion, is that the world (specifically social media, but social media is part of the world) increasingly demands explicit statements from artists and uses an absence of "I wholeheartedly condemn x"-type quotes as an indication that someone actively endorses x, because why wouldn't they say so otherwise? This is bad. It's a bad development. It's a really gross combination of the literacy crisis and callout culture and it gets people hurt. So I really do not and cannot blame writers who feel the need to be very explicit about what they believe in, which is why I am not suggesting that you shouldn't include those beliefs in your work; what I am saying, though, is that your work will be much more authentic and touching if you find ways to show me.

#dottie rambles #how to even tag this. who knows.

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jojomiwbvb6 · 10 months ago

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The Shower Scene, Pt. 4

Taglist: @emzandthevoid @mentallynot-here @bloodymug @sprokat @princesspeach-00 @ghoulsquad @missduffsblog @yeehaw-my-guys @lma1986 @artificialbreezy

Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long to do this chapter! I have had a bit of writer's block and I have been busy doing a lot lately. This will be the finale to this series, I really hope you enjoy! Feel free to give me more ideas! I was thinking of writing some Sasuke or Itachi fics as well.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW. Extremely long and descriptive smut, unprotected p-in-v (be safe about it, or use condoms please), overstimulation, degradation, praise, oral (female receiving), punishment, spanking, swearing, squirting, casual alcohol consumption

PSA: this is very obviously a work of fiction, and should in no way be taken seriously or literally. this piece of fiction uses real people in fictional and fantastical mindsets--and it is in no way a representation of the real person or who they are as a whole. Thank you for coming to our ted talk.

Atlanta.

The humid wind hits your face, the city never motionless around you. You inhale the air, closing your eyes and letting your body relax. Your nerves are completely jumbled and overstimulated as your mind mulls over the past week so far.

The pictures of yourself flash through your head. Noah's words flooding your mind. You can't escape the anxiety it brought you, and the excitement of your actions.

You stared at your feet, black vans reflected against tan concrete as you stood against the bus. Twiddling your thumbs and exhaling heavily, you turn to Davis as he approaches you.

"Hey, kid! Some of the guys were just thinking of exploring the botanical gardens and the zoo and maybe going for some grub, wanna come?" He smiles at you, raising an eyebrow for an inviting answer.

"Shit, bro, I'm down." You agree and smile back. It was the first day off in over a week and you were grateful for it. You were looking forward to moments with Noah, but you also needed to get out and do something else for once.

As you and Davis caught up with the group, consisting of both you two, Ruffilo, Noah, Matt, and Jolly (the rest went off to do other things), you could hear their jesting and cackles even from a ways back.

"Morning guys!" You say, smiling and out of breath.

"Hey (Y/N)!" You were greeted by multiple of them.

Noah turned, walking backwards. "Hey, (Y/N)," he smirks lazily, waving his hand, drawing his eyes over you subtly and licking his lips.

You huff, catching his eyes and offering a suggestive smile. "Hi, Noah." He smiles back at you, and then turns back around to continue walking. You admire his long, toned frame as he took smooth strides forward.

All of you thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing and wondrous vibes of the gardens and the culture of the city. Having been walking and exploring for over 2 hours, you all decide to pause your activities for a bit of lunch.

"What should we eat? I'm starving, man," Ruffilo comments.

"Hmm. Haven't had Chipotle in a while," Davis replies.

"How about sushi?" Matt adds.

You're silent. Honestly, you're so hungry, you don't even care what you guys eat. Anything sounds good.

Noah steps up beside you. "Sushi sounds fuckin' fantastic," he agrees.

When the others aren't paying any attention, Noah leans into your ear quickly and quietly, "I'm hungry for something else, though."

You almost gasp when he leans away, giving a quick caress to your ass while the others are walking away. He casually smirks at you, continuing to walk in the direction of the Japanese sushi bar on the corner.

Your face felt hot, and you were fighting the frustrated blush that crept up your face. You were nearly hyperventilating and you couldn't help it. You took a deep breath of the next gust of Georgia wind that caressed your face, composing yourself and catching back up with the group.

"Fuck, this hits the spot dude." Matt comments, and you're nodding along with the rest of the guys.

"Hell yeah."

You're all sitting at the table, a whole boat of sushi in front of you and then some. Ruffilo is sipping on sake while all of you make small chit chat.

"Hey! Ruffilo! Let me try some of that," you say.

"Ever had sake?" Ruffilo says.

"No," you state, taking the small white cup from his hands.

"What!" You hear half of the table exclaim, with pleas of interest in you trying the drink.

You slowly take a sip. Instantly the taste of the Japanese alcohol hits your tongue and you're writhing. "Yuck! Oh! That's revolting!"

Cracks of laughter erupt from the table. Soon, you are laughing as well.

"That's enough of that," you joke.

After lunch, you all go shopping and walk around downtown. After several hours of being out and having free time the whole day, it was time to return to the hotel that was booked for the night. In the morning, you would quickly pack up and shuffle back onto the bus for Orlando, Florida.

Walking away from the bus with a suitcase in hand and backpack over your shoulder, you step into the hotel. You stop at the front desk to get your keycard from the receptionist.

"Room for (Y/L/N), please."

"Ahh," she pauses, typing on her keyboard. "We don't have a room here, I'm afraid..."

You frown. "All of these rooms should have been pre-booked," you state. Your mind frantically searches for a solution. You begin to list the several names of the other crew members and band members, but most were already in their rooms. You thought of one more name.

Oh, you thought. He didn't!

"There may be another name," you try. "Sebastian?"

The receptionist, looking mildly annoyed now, huffs and types in the name. You ignore her annoyance, watching patiently. A look of resolve crosses the receptionist's face. You feel hopeful.

He did.

"Hmm," she says. "It appears one more keycard is available for this room. Just sign this document and you may have your keycard."

You fill out the appropriate paperwork, signing on the line. The receptionist pulls the paper back to her and slides the keycard across the counter. You exchange your thanks.

"Room 207, 3rd floor." The woman tells you and turns away.

You don't waste anymore time. As you walk down the hall to the elevator, the smirk on your face grows 10 miles wide, confidence enveloping you.

You knew exactly why he'd done it, and frankly, you weren't about to protest. Your heart slams into your chest with every sound of your heels and the roll of the suitcase wheels on the carpet.

You take a deep breath as you step onto the elevator.

207.

The silver numbers glint as you stand parked in front of the door. He was inside there already, waiting for you to come in. You exhale shakily as you grip the door handle, and you hesitate.

Closing your eyes, you begin to smirk. This is what you've been fiending after for several weeks. Taking another deep breath, you slide the keycard into the door.

The lock clicks and you twist the handle, allowing yourself into the room.

You analyze your surroundings. One lamp is on in the dimly lit room. A small walkway leading into a rather spacious double bed. There was a desk to the left, and a mini kitchen straight ahead. The bathroom immediately to the left. Without paying further attention, you walk to a bed and set your bag down on it.

You didn't seem to notice Noah, maybe he'd left the room for something. You shrug, bending over to open up your suitcase and lay it out.

Without you noticing, Noah slips out of the bathroom and leans against the wall, examining the rear view you're giving him.

"Well, well, already bending over? Princess, I haven't even taken off your clothes yet," Noah chuckles darkly.

You swear you jump 10 feet into the air, yelping loudly. If he hadn't scared you, his words would've gone straight to your core. "Noah Sebastian, for crying out loud!" You laugh and smack his shoulder. "Don't do that!" You both share a chuckle.

You can feel Noah decreasing the distance between you two and your laughter begins to fade. Noah's eyes flutter over you, landing on your eyes, your mouth, your breasts, feeling overwhelmed pleasantly.

You found yourself licking your lips. You begin to turn away.

Faster than the flick of a wrist, Noah's hand shoots up, gripping your jaw and squeezing your cheeks together. You are both silent, the tension shooting higher than ever.

You go to grab his hand and you are immediately caught by his other hand. He grips your wrist tightly, but not painfully. Noah's eyes change into dangerous slits and a playfully evil smirk takes over his features.

"The way that you have been torturing me has been driving me insane," Noah whispers into your ear. You want to collapse on the spot.

He begins walking you slowly backwards.

"You've been such a fucking brat, too, getting me hot for you at the worst times..." His hot breath fans your face, your own breath quickening in pace.

"The only thing I can think about is how I'm going to having you praying to me when I'm done ravaging you." You feel your hips hit the desk behind you.

"Noah..." you whisper.

He pulls at your face until you're eye to eye with him. He chuckled darkly.

"That's my fucking name," he growls into your ear. "And you're never going to forget it."

His hands leave your face and your wrist. Gripping your hips, he lifts you onto the desk and shoves you on it. He pulls you against his own hips, and his left hand rises to tangle in your hair.

Noah's cologne invades your senses, addicted to the scent. He tugs at the strands, inflicting a raspy moan from you. "How beautiful," Noah mumbles, helping himself to your inviting lips.

You both kiss as if life were going to end. His fingers flex against your clothed hips, pulling at your shirt and caressing you. Your tongues slipped against each other, nipping and suckling at each other's lips.

You wrapped your legs around Noah's hips, pulling him closer. Noah pulls away from your lips. Smirking, he pulls up your shirt with ease and tossed it away somewhere on the floor behind you.

"Such pretty, pretty tits..." he drawls, giant hands cupping them and he flicks a nipple. You gasp. Noah moves up your body, leaning over to envelope a taut nipple into his warm mouth. He flicks at it with the tip of his tongue and you moan quietly.

He pops off of you and smirks wickedly, and feigns a look of concern. "Is that just too much pleasure for you? Should I stop?"

"N-no! No, please, don't stop," You almost choke.

Noah stands. His bulge is prominent against his sweatpants and you almost drool. It seems so big and you can't focus on anything but the need you feel. Your core is hot and you squirm.

"Such a needy fucking slut." He pulls your body forward, running a hand oh-so-low but not enough.

You mewl as his fingers creep to your covered pussy and slowly tease the bud.

"Mmm.." you groan and Noah chuckles.

"Like that, babygirl?"

You nod.

"Too bad." Noah stops and you whine. "Enough of that. Strip,"

"Yes, sir."

Noah chuckles. "Such good manners for me. So desperate."

By now, you're a puddle of pleasure and you want it to swallow you whole. Noah sits on the edge of the bed as you peel your pants off your shaking legs. You remove your panties, tossing them aside.

"So pretty," he comments. "Come here and lay across my lap."

You obey, positioning yourself across his lap.

"Before we begin, is this something you're okay with me doing to you?"

"Absolutely," you confirm. "I can take it."

Noah hums in understanding. "Such arrogance. You will learn."

His hands begin to touch and caress the flesh of your behind, shaking the cheeks and watching them jiggle with satisfaction. He rubs in slow circles. His hand leaves your ass, forming a cup-shape, and crack.

The first spank stings, and you gasp out. His hand returns to rub the welt.

"Here's how this is going to go. You will get five spanks for our first time. This is your punishment for being such a slut," he rubs slowly. "If you fail to complete the spanking, I'll fuck your mouth. I won't stop if you choke or gag."

You whimper and nod your head.

"I'm glad you understand. If you succeed, princess, I'll have a taste of you for myself."

You mewl, squirming in his lap. "Now, now," he warned you. "Count for me." You nod frantically, wanting so desperately to please him. Although, you wouldn't complain if you failed the test.

The first two spanks were easy. His hand fell on tandem and you dutifully stated each number with each gasp and whimper he pulled from you. You really didn't think you could fail, how could you? Sure, it stung a little, but you could handle it.

As "three" fell from your lips, the usual soothing rub came to ease the sting.

"Everything okay, princess?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I proceed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," he whispered, making you squirm. He chuckled darkly. He pulled apart your cheeks, and leaned down. "Mmm, princess... so wet for me. Oh, I bet you're just aching. Let me help you..."

Noah dipped his fingers in between your legs. His fingers slid between the wet folds and you jolt. His other hand keeps you still and you're left victim to his merciless tease. He softly rubs into your wet heat and you're left mewling against his leg, head hanging.

Noah rubs the tip of his middle finger into your clit. "How's that?"

You nod frantically, unable to speak against his onslaught. At your response, he removes his fingers from your heat and resumes the next spank. The fourth spank is rougher and harder than the last.

"F-four!" You cry out, struggling to hold the composure that remained. "P-please, Noah, I--"

"Hush," he demanded. He caressed the welt, the red marks on your ass much to his liking. "One more for me, princess. You can do it."

Without any warning, Noah's fingers slip once again against your heat. Only this time, he doesn't relent. He teases and pinches your clit and you squirm, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Noah slides his fingers up to your entrance and sinks one finger inside of you and you moan.

"Noahhh, this isn't fair!"

"Be quiet, and don't you dare cum, or you lose," he threatens, and you obey with whimper after whimper as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

He adds another finger, and begins assaulting your clit with the other hand. You're an absolute mess against his lap, his fingers scissoring inside you and rutting against your g-spot. Bliss and pleasure overwhelms you, getting close to the brink as Noah's fingers continue to pump into you, faster and harder.

Your whimpers begin to form into cries, pleading for him to let you cum. Your eyes begin to roll back and you're trying to push back onto his fingers to get more from him.

"You like that baby?" He whispers in your ear. "Gonna cum?"

You nod, mouth agape. Noah smirks and removes his fingers entirely. You groan in frustration, and, as sly as he is, catches you off guard with the fifth and final spank.

Your brain almost can't comprehend the pleasure your body feels, the sting sending you into shock and you almost forget your task.

"F-f-five..." you stutter.

His large, long hands caress both cheeks of your ass and a kiss is planted onto the red welt on the swell of it.

"You're such a good, good girl, princess. I'm impressed. Good job," Noah praises you. "Lay down on your back for me."

You slowly get up and crawl onto the hotel bed mattress and lie down on the cushiony pillows.

"Spread your pretty legs, don't be shy."

You let your legs fall apart, spread against the sheets. Noah sucks in a breath and hums in satisfaction. He crawls up the bed to you, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside as you had. Your eyes feast on the tattoos covering his body.

"God, princess, you're so fucking wet," you moan at his words and he dives in. Noah's tongue licks a wet stripe up your core from your entrance to your clit. You cry out, hands immediately finding his hair. Noah hums and you quiver, the vibrations stimulating you.

He licks into your folds with fervor, as if he hadn't eaten all day. His tongue dances and pokes at your entrance, pleasure spiking and you're squirming against his mouth. Noah laps at your clit, boldly taking the bud into his mouth and sucking at it. He then takes it into his mouth, swirling the sensitive area against his tongue, dancing in circles.

"Noah!!" you cry.

You arch your back, eyes rolling back as you grip his hair and pull, and he groans. Noah adjusts his position, shoving your legs up and he dives deeper into your pussy. He shoves his tongue up into it, swirling it and shaking his head like a rabid dog. You're practically crying out, thrusting against his face and leaving it a wet mess.

Offering you his fingers again, he dives against your clit once more, nipping at it and sucking it; this time, he aids his mouth with his fingers. Thrusting two digits in, his long fingers find your g-spot again. He mercilessly pokes at it, unrelenting with his tongue and fingertips. You're moaning and a mess and it's almost too much.

Your eyes see nothing but stars in the back of your head and you're moaning loudly. You cum and rut onto his mouth. "Fuck, fuck," you gasp.

Noah pops off of your pussy. "Tastes... so good..." he gasps. "I want more."

"I want you so bad, Noah," you whine. "I want you to fuck me."

"What a dirty mouth," he comments, stinking a finger in your mouth as he caresses your jaw. You wrap your lips around his finger and lock eyes with him. You suck and lock eyes with him. He smiles, and removes his finger.

Noah removes his pants and slides his boxers down his slim legs. The only thing you can do is lay there, mouth agape at the beautiful artwork before you. You bite your lip, you just can't wait.

He comes back to you, and you gasp in surprise when he forces your legs against your chest. Noah captures his lips in yours and lines his cock up with your entrance. He wastes no time in sinking in slowly. Due to your wetness, he slides in easily and sinks in as far as he's able. You're both gasping and long moans escape from your mouths and the intense heat between each other's legs.

He begins to move slowly, enjoying the teasing ways your walls grip his cock, threatening to take him deep.

"Fuck, baby... your pussy is just so fucking wet..." he mumbles. A low groan erupts from him, eliciting a moan from you.

His pace begins to quicken and he ruts in deeper. He just can't help himself when you give him the go-ahead by moaning louder.

Pretty soon, the room is filled with explicit sounds from the two of you. The sound of skin slapping fills the room and you're moaning. You're both mumbling the dirtiest phrases to each other, getting each other hotter and higher.

"Fuck" is the only word you chant as he thrusts into you like his life depends on it. He's fucking you hard and unforgiving.

"This pussy is mine," Noah growls into your ear, and you moan.

"Noah!!" You cry as his pace picks up, desperate and greedy. Skin slaps skin, near stinging, relentless. You can't help it when you cum, creating such a sinful sight for Noah as your wetness coats your legs and his cock.

He growls. "Fuck, I'm not done with you yet!" He pulls out and turns you over into doggy, pushing your stomach down and pulling your ass into the air.

He enters you again, finding his rhythm. Pulling you back against his hips in every thrust.

"Take me, take me, take me," you cry out.

Noah groans, picking up his pace. He twists his fingers into the strands of your hair, pulling your head back. He pounds into you, and at this angle the pleasure is overstimulating as his cock hits your spot over and over. He pulls you further back, forcing you to rise to your hands, the pace unforgiving and tears fall down your cheeks.

"Noah!" You cry once more.

Juices run down your legs as you cum one more time, but Noah doesn't seem to be done. You're worn out and fucked into bliss, drooling against the pillow. You can't think and your voice is hoarse.

He groans loudly, letting you know he's almost ready. You push back on his cock and he growls. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing gently, he begins fucking in quick ruts. "Fuck, princess, (Y/N)!"

He pulls out of you, his cock glistening and pulsing as his cum shoots out in pearls against your stomach. You moan, but Noah isn't done.

His hand goes to your clit and he smirks. You cry out at the fast quick pace he uses on you, his fingers insert inside of you to smash against your g-spot in one final assault.

"Cum, (Y/N), one more for me," he insists. He doesn't stop, and quickens his pace.

"Noah, please!" You beg, too overstimulated and sensitive.

He doesn't listen, yet urges you towards an orgasm that feels like a tsunami coming for you.

It happens before you can stop yourself, your cum coming out in such a powerful wave that you squirt a little, making such a mess.

This absolutely pleases Noah and he smiles. "Perfect." He kisses your cheek. "You are wonderful." He praises.

You both lay there, panting and laughing, praising one another.

"Shower?"

"I think so."

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #noah smut #the Shower Scene Noah

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