#out of character ･*→ tragically beautiful girl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooyabooya · 2 months ago

Text

INTERLUDE

m reader x haewon // 9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago.

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why.

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered.

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach.

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body.

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.”

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.”

“Girls like to take their sweet time.”

“Your point being?”

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.”

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.”

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.”

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.”

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.”

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play.

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.”

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.”

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.”

“Expecting me to just say no?”

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.”

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.”

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments.

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.”

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was.

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her.

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain.

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her.

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately.

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?”

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times.

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-”

“Haewon.”

“One night. That one night. You-”

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another.

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.”

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.”

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.”

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.”

“You did look tired.”

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.”

“In fact I was.”

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.”

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.”

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.”

“Why not do it, then?”

“Huh?”

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.”

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.”

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.”

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.”

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple.

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.”

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.”

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.”

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.”

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance.

Of course you stay silent, blinking. “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.”

“You know most of them.”

“Like you said: most.”

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself.

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?”

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.”

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-”

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.”

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here.

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-”

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions.

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.”

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-”

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.”

“For?”

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.”

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit.

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind.

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her.

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually.

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you.

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you.

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips.

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it).

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest.

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.”

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself.

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip.

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan.

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life.

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.”

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her.

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps.

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once.

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.”

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain.

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?”

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you.

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined.

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?”

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon-

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there.

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right.

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival.

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended.

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below.

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?”

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.”

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.”

“Sounds perfectly right.”

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.”

“Seriously. Fuck you.”

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.”

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.”

“What are you implying?”

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.”

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?”

“You’re not, ah-”

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself.

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted.

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.”

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.”

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-”

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots.

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.”

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here.

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does.

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you.

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.”

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true.

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment.

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips.

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do:

“Take this cock and fuck me.”

You’d follow her words no matter what.

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say.

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips.

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this?

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.”

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-”

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head.

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away.

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.”

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.”

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more.

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.”

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-”

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.”

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction.

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers.

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume.

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.”

“Yeah?” You hum.

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.”

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head.

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared.

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-”

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red.

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.”

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-”

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it.

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down.

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?”

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her.

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic.

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers.

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-”

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it.

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft.

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.”

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing:

“I wanna make you cum.”

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you.

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is.

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her.

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-”

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.”

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease.

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.”

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls.

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth.

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air.

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her.

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.”

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day.

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open.

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached.

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself.

p.s

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3”

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable.

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.”

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

#nmixx smut #male reader smut #haewon smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #haewon #nmixx haewon

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chitra111goddess · 11 months ago

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VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES ♡

(Can apply to any planet placement)

⚡️Ashwini women always stand out to me with their creativity especially in acting , they rly know to embody the character they're playing to the fullest even irl it may be easier for them to shift thro different identities or alter-egos just for funsies

⚡️There's smtg about purva phalguni women , they're gorgeous but for some reason I noticed they get hate esp from other women like they're called fake or pick-mes or they make up stories hmm

⚡️Purva ashadha women are so inspiring like they're always the ones to be teaching or preaching or saying smtg inspiring/motivational. They're beauties with soul and a mind of their own ! If u know a purva ashadha better take notes 📝

⚡️Magha women love wearing black and something about their looks or style is unconventional/gothy, it suits them

⚡️Uttara-phalguni women are so headstrong bruh and they have this leadership aura about them, they're gonna do what THEY think is right. Like other sun-ruled nakshatras they easily get attention

⚡️Mrigashira women love the push & pull , cat &mouse game, they either attract this dynamic or they create it themselves. There's also smth about Mrigashira and obsession 👀

⚡️Jyestha women embody the wild feminine archetype imo, when evolved theyre truly empowered and have this idgaf energy. people may be threatened by their power or skills. Their voice or the way the speak is commanding and naturally charismatic

⚡️Swati/ardra and their eyes 👁👁 most captivating eyes imo I'm in luv

⚡️Purva bhadrapada women seem to attract or be drawn to men with dark nature or men who carry trauma ? Or they know how to bring that out in a man

⚡️Dhanishta women love dancing and they appear to be friendly or have many acquaintances but very little people they relate to. Popular girlies

⚡️Rohini women feminine energy is undeniable , something about them feels innocent yet erotic. They just give off this juicy fertile vibee lmao💦 unlike jyestha which is more dry (not in a bad way its just different 💀)

⚡️Anuradha women are secretive as hell even if they tell u shit don't think u have them all figured out. there's so much to unpack with them , they're generally intriguing complex characters

⚡️Most bratty nakshatras are mrigashira and chitra lmao

⚡️Revati women are pretty privilege girlies also they're master manipulators 👀 they know how to use their femininity to get what they want

⚡️Pushya women have big MOMMY energy. they seem/look mature. They're either the ones taking care of others or others take care of them

⚡️Uttara bhadrapada women have dualistic nature they're either the sweetest ppl u know or ur worst nightmare depending on who theyre dealing with 💀they're like a mirror projecting and reflecting back ur inner self back at ya (Pisces energy) also don't forget the karmic saturn influence.. u don't wanna mess w them or any other saturn ruled woman

⚡️Viahaka women go through intense ups and downs , starting from their good girl phase then they snap and go wild then they mature/become spiritual

⚡️Chitra women secretly (or not so secretly) enjoy drama , they're either the ones caught up in it or they play the role of the "judge" where they can solve conflicts between others. Somehow they're surrounded by it.

⚡️Don't underestimate krittika women especially when it comes to survival 💀 these women can be dangerous and will stab a bitch if they rly had to (whether its for defending loved ones or them surviving) their symbol is 🔪 after all and taurus/aries gives them that survival instinct

⚡️Ardra women can make great poets/song writers , their creativity and inspiration stems from their own 'tragic' experiences

⚡️Punarvasu women remind me of that quote "home is where the heart is" they always end up coming back to their origins and what they feel in their heart

Lemme know ur thoughts & what I should make next

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jesncin · 4 months ago

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Caped Crusader, "Safe Diversity", and Catwoman

We're at a point where it's expected that a new incarnation of any story previously with a white-dominated cast would be reimagined with a "more diverse" cast. This can mean racebending them, genderbending them or making them queer, but for the purposes of this analysis we'll be focusing on racebends. Most of the time, executives will take the "safer" routes with diversifying their cast- pick a couple of unproblematic supporting characters to be incidentally "diverse this time". Other times, there might be "braver" takes where more prominent characters (perhaps even the main character) are racebent. This doesn't necessarily mean racebending prominent characters is an inherently better thing to do.

I've been more than critical of MAWS' portrayal of BIPOC characters but especially their Asian Lois before. Sometimes BIPOC representation is just a decorative palette-swap change for these shows. Caped Crusader however, is different. It's more complicated- but it's rooted in very similar problems. Unlike MAWS (though I can only speak for S1), CC is far more willing to take on political topics: classism, sexism, police corruption and brutality, even beauty standards in the entertainment industry! Yet, in choosing to portray these topics in their stylistically anachronistic 30s-40s set piece- it makes it so the show's reluctance to discuss race intersecting with any of these topics far more apparent.

(spoilers for all of Caped Crusader)

Take for instance, episode 2: "...And Be A Villain". The story is about Basil Karlo, a less than handsome actor who wishes his appearance wasn't holding him back from both love and playing roles saved for better looking people. He makes a deal with Jack Ellman, an experimental makeup artist who turns him into Clayface. This story is set in motion when Miss Yvonne Francis, a beautiful actress, goes missing. Miss Francis is a woman of color (brown skinned, unspecified) played by Lacey Chabert: a white actress. CC goes for a generally colorblind casting what with Stephie (a white girl) being voiced by Amari McCoy (a Black actress) but it always feels icky when a white actor voices a character of color. Prominent characters of color in CC are more accurately casted. However I do think animation should be wary of using their medium to get away with their show appearing more diverse than the actual talent behind it.

The episode's theme is pretty clear on how unfair the entertainment industry is in regards to who it prioritizes in leading roles. Basil is constantly emphasized as a tragically talented actor whose appearance is holding him back. "With your talent you should be a leading man, Basil." Yvonne says to Basil in a flashback. Meanwhile as Alfred is watching through movie clips featuring Yvonne and Basil together, he comments "while lovely to look at, Miss Francis is no Gloria Swanson." So Yvonne has the looks, but not the talent and still gets prestigious roles because that's showbiz. The only time this is weirdly inconsistent is when Yvonne calls out Basil/Clayface in the finale, saying:

"I don't believe your performance. You're chewing on scenery. Relying on makeup effects to enhance weak characterization. It's insincere, Basil. It's not real."

I honestly feel like this scene was just meant to quickly "subvert" Yvonne being a damsel in distress by having her call out Basil's acting. It's a moment that isn't reinforced by anything the episode set up. After all, according to Alfred, she's not as good an actor compared to Basil. That's supposed to be how they foil each other, so this moment feels unmotivated. Again, I get what they're going for, that Basil's performance ironically relies on his newfound appearance so much that even a bad actress like Yvonne can spot his meager acting. But it doesn't work when our protagonists were actually convinced by his imitation of others. She's still a damsel in distress character regardless of her having a bit of attitude when calling her captor out.

What I don't understand is: why make Yvonne a woman of color if this was the story you wanted to tell? It's not like they're paying homage to how her voice actress looks, after all. Why, in your story set in purposely anachronistic 30s-40s era noir, did the character who was meant to represent the epitome of "not talented but gets by the industry because of her conventional beauty and pretty privilege" a woman of color? We're missing the very obvious conversation here where Tinsel Town is a white industry with white biases to what it considers attractive. It doesn't matter how many attractive actors of color exist, they're still pigeon holed into stereotyped and often racist roles (especially back then), and have to work twice as hard to get the opportunities their white colleagues get. Why is Basil, a white man, the only one afforded a marginalized narrative when Yvonne is quite literally a woman of color right next to him? The episode is especially painful to sit through when Basil is afforded so much sympathy compared to Yvonne.

"He didn't have the right look. He didn't have the right face."

"The camera is kind to some, but cruel to others."

This is transparently a colorblind narrative. Yvonne is written and even casted as a white woman. The CC crew just decided she should be a WOC likely because "wouldn't it be neat if the beautiful actress in this story is POC" without thinking about how that would drastically change a narrative already critical of the showbiz industry based on appearances. It's not intersectional and flattens the narrative to being selective of the prejudices Tinsel Town has. This episode is a great example to what CC generally does with diversity. It's not afraid to be critical of society, but it gets oddly squeamish with discussing how race intersects with these topics- opting mostly for a palette-change type of representation.

It's not entirely fair to say CC doesn't ever touch on the topic of racism. It sort of does: if you read between the lines for why the mayor gives Jim Gordon his commissioner role, and more prominently with the Gentleman Ghost (a rich aristocrat ghost that steals from the poor, believing wealth is his right) being offended that his mansion is sold to Lucius Fox (saying "and you would sell it to rabble like this?")- racism is somewhat present in the world of CC. We see the women in this show experience misogyny, but it's ambiguous if any of their struggles are intersectional with that of race. But that's... just about it. Racism isn't discussed more than it is alluded to, whenever the writers decide it's relevant. Because of this, CC has a spectrum of hits and misses when it comes to integrating characters of color in their reimagined cast.

Here's how I would visualize that spectrum using canonized instances of Asian Lois Lane. I should emphasize that representation of people of color doesn't entail the narrative owing us "a racism arc" or what have you. This spectrum is more used to measure how much racial identity was integrated in the characterization of the character: whether that be cultural identity or history. Being a person of color isn't just "person who goes through racism".

This is how I'd personally place the prominent characters of color in CC on my "spectrum of racebends" chart. Generally most of the characters of color (whether reimagined that way or were originally POC already) are fairly harmless in how they were integrated into CC's world, but none of the characters feel bespoke as a reimagining of the character and are interchangeable with their white counterparts. To quote cartoonist Juni Ba (in a discussion on CC):

"...stripping characters of color in these time period stories of any cultural, [a]esthetic or social signifiers that’d make them true to the groups being represented. Instead they dress, act and speak very western."

In my opinion, the only character that is an exception to this is Linton Midnite (or as he's popularly known as: "Papa Midnite"). Midnite is a character so interlinked with Haitian culture and mysticism that even CC couldn't erase that aspect of his identity (important note: historically, the portrayal of Midnite since his creation is riddled in racism, but that's not my place to discuss here). Midnite at most speaks with an accent, dresses more nonconformingly compared to the western standard dress of all the other characters, and practices occultish stuff (though I don't think there was anything culturally specific in that episode, please correct me otherwise if someone has more insight!). That's a lot more cultural representation than just about any other character of color in CC. Midnite can't be changed to a white character, his African identity is too interlinked with who he is.

There are a few characters I consider in poor taste to be POC- that being Arnold Flass, Yvonne Francis (who we've covered already), and Harley Quinn (who will be getting her own post, as her case is complicated). So let's talk about cops, then.

I tend to be indifferent about media choosing to diversify cop characters because it feels like choosing the most "respectable to society" role for a marginalized character to play. Cops uphold bigoted systems of power at the end of the day, so that's a very comfortable place to represent your marginalized characters. It's why we keep getting gay or lesbian cops, which Batman media absolutely perpetuates as well with Renee Montoya. It's hard to cheer for two women of color being allowed to date and kiss in public when one of them is a cop, y'know? But this doesn't mean re-imagining cop characters doesn't have narrative merit.

In regards to Jim Gordon being reimagined as a Black cop, I'm gonna refer to La'Ron Readus' video on "Fixing the Batman's Copaganda problem" where he goes into detail about the missed potential of Black!Jim Gordon from Reeves' The Batman (2022). Generally, I felt that opportunity was missed in CC as well. While I love that Barbara Gordon is in CC, nothing about her being a WOC is integrated into this version of her. It felt like if either character was white, the story wouldn't be that different. The bigger issue here is the choice to racebend Arnold Flass- a previously white, blonde, cunningly smart, and brutally corrupt cop.

CC follows some of this in their version of Arnold Flass- he's paired with Harvey Bullock (also a corrupt cop). While Bullock is the brawns of the duo, Flass is the smarts. He's cunning and even implied to be willing to frame Bullock if the worse comes to it. It isn't an inherently bad idea to racebend a corrupt white cop into a Black cop. If the writers want to tell a story about how the police force assimilates people of color into the system and forces them to be just as if not more brutal than their white counterparts, then by all means tell that story.

But that's not what CC gave us. By rarely acknowledging race, we don't get to have a conversation or themes surrounding that delicate intersection of identities. We just have "diverse Flass". Look at these panels from Year One for example, can you imagine how Flass' casual disrespect for Gordon by constantly calling him "Jimmy" could be re-contextualized with a race change? Unlike other characters who just feel like missed opportunities for not integrating race into their characterization, Flass is an elephant in the room. To not acknowledge his race in themes of police corruption and brutality is to white wash the narrative with diverse paint.

I personally think the stronger narrative decision would have been to racebend Bullock as Black instead of Flass. Flass could still be the conniving cop, but he encourages Black!Bullock to be the more "violent brute" who does the dirty work for him. It would put a newfound racial layer to how Flass considers Bullock disposable. Then we could have some kind of commentary on how the police force encourages a system of abuse that makes even fellow POC turn on each other. It'd also make it so a certain scene would be better in optics.

I have many criticisms for the scene where Batman holds a gun to Flass in the finale of CC. It's a narratively unmotivated (see my criticisms for CC's Two Face here for elaboration) and weak moment that relies on metatextual shock value to cover up how underdeveloped this take on Batman is. But it's also just very uncomfortable optics-wise. It's a common and valid criticism that Batman as a character can very easily fall into copaganda, with his status, goals, and collaboration with the police force. In many ways, Batman is often written to be committing his own kind of vigilante police brutality.

Caped Crusader wants to be a deconstruction of a Batman tied to power and hellbent on his mission to eliminate crime. But because CC occasionally omits race from its narrative, the scene where Batman holds a gun to a Black cop-a man stripped of his ability to fight back-just falls flat for me. There's no acknowledgement in this scene that Batman basically gets to be an anonymous cop, "warning shots" and all. Batman shoots at an unarmed Black man several times. It's meant to be shocking to us how Bruce is willing to stoop to such a level and indulge in gratuitous gun violence, but it honestly hits too close to real incidents where this is racially the case for me to enjoy the narrative point of this scene.

You know a character who would be perfect for calling out Batman's many privileges? Selina Kyle. Let's talk about Caped Crusader's biggest downgrade.

I've heard just about all the arguments in favor for CC's reimagining of Catwoman and none have convinced me that this was in any way a good take on the character. I see people saying that this Catwoman is a return to her golden age roots, and there's a lot of misconception surrounding that assumption. So bear with me as looking at Catwoman's history is necessary to discuss race and how a character evolves.

Catwoman debuted in the 1940s as a jewel thief who disguised herself as an old lady. She was just called "The Cat" and would not don her more feline appearance until later. True to the mystery woman femme fatale trope she was inspired by, her backstory was left unknown for a long time. 10 years later, in Batman #62 it is revealed that after a plane accident bonked her head, the now named Selina Kyle got amnesia and went on a crime spree. Giving her leeway to reform and be an ally to Batman. This would historically inform how Selina Kyle toed the line between good and evil as an anti-hero.

Her origin would be revisited in 1983, in the Brave and the Bold #197. Although not canon to the mainline universe, it is still a crucial development for her character's history. In this story, Selina reveals that she lied about having amnesia to get out of facing punishment. Her true story was that she entered a life of crime to escape an abusive relationship with a rich man. The only loss her husband understood was material loss, loss of property, so stealing was how Selina fought back.

This crucial re-examination of her character transformed her from shenanigans inducing femme fatale, to a marginalized fighter. Shortly later in 1987 in Batman Year One, Catwoman is reimagined as a street-hardened sex worker in poverty. She is inspired by the Batman to become a vigilante for her own goals and gets annoyed that she's assumed to be his sidekick.

The moment Catwoman became marginalized by power, was the point where she became worthy of solo-character status. She was not only a compelling foil to Batman-capable of going toe to toe with him and make him question his motives even though she did not share his privilege-she could lead her own adventures reflecting a side of Gotham Bruce Wayne's perspective doesn't. She actively makes the setting of Gotham stronger because of how she's evolved as a character.

Catwoman's character would continue to evolve, with some iterations reimagining her as a latina woman and others where she's canonically bisexual.

While Catwoman has been portrayed by Black actresses before, I want to focus on the most recent and prominent iteration of a race-swapped Catwoman. When Matt Reeves' The Batman (2022) featured Zoe Kravitz as Selina Kyle, an explicitly biracial character within the text of the story, we see another step this character evolves. I think La'Ron Readus' video on "Why Race-Swapped Characters Are Not The Full Story" does a fantastic job of explaining why this is a narratively great race swap. To summarize (though I do encourage watching his video as he goes into depth about 2022 Batman's Jim Gordon as well among many other examples) and add analysis of my own: Selina being the byproduct of an Italian crime lord and a Black sex worker is a brilliant marriage of her original backstory (being connected to and abused by powerful men) and her modern backstory where she's poverty stricken (and tangentially related to a sex worker if we're talking about Batman Year One).

We understand why someone of her background would have an affinity for stray cats because of how she lost her mom at a young age, she is sympathetic to fellow people from the lower class, and explicitly calls out privileged white people- including Batman who attempted to over moralize Selina's partner as a sex worker.

"All anyone cares about in this place, are these white privileged assholes."

It's especially that last line that makes it so Selina's character isn't interchangeable with her white counterpart. She's a textually rich character to contrast Bruce in Batman 2022, and we can see how years of history and evolution has brought such an empathetic character to the screen. Interestingly, Readus feels that while 2022 Selina was an example of a race-swap that works, he believes it was great by coincidence, because of the miss that was Gordon's characterization in the same movie. I think with Reeves as a collaborator on Caped Crusader, that assumption was correct.

Selina in CC is back to being a rich socialite, but (unlike her Golden Age counterpart) she's not married into wealth- she's got generational wealth (with a dad serving jail time for tax evasion). Worse yet, she's taking what little remains of her money and spending it on superficially imitating the Batman to create her Catwoman persona. She even has her own reluctant Alfred, a Catmobile, the works. Selina steals things because. She likes shiny things. And is something of a kleptomaniac. Catwoman is instantly discovered to be Selina because of course she's not as good as Batman is with keeping a secret identity (another key difference from her Golden Age counterpart, whose backstory was shrouded in mystery for a decade).

It is laughable to me that CC touts that their version of Harley Quinn has an origin of her own outside of the Joker, only to turn around and make a Catwoman that is completely tied to copying a man as her origin (did they decide Harley's goofyness as a character needed to be replicated in Selina for some reason? In their supposed dark and edgy show?). What a strange choice to fixate on the part in Year One where Selina didn't like being mistaken for Batman's assistant despite being inspired by him and turn it into a quirky bit. It feels like such a regressive take that frames Selina as a sillier, whimsical version of Bruce that just spends money on a whim because women just aren't smart enough to know how to keep track of their money. They're too busy looking for shiny things to steal. The fact that both 2022 Batman and CC have a scene where Selina is looking through her many bills she's yet to pay is wild to me. How am I supposed to care for a Selina that has the expendable wealth to create a Catwoman costume, car, and gadgets, but delay paying her maid? One of these versions of Selina is far more sympathetic than the other.

Again, I get what CC is going for. Batman is characterized to be hellbent on catching criminals, Catwoman is supposed to serve as some kind of reflection of his obsession. They're both self destructive in their goals, but one is vengeance and the other is chasing thrills. But is that really as interesting a foil as having Catwoman be marginalized, just as skilled, and making Batman second guess himself? Is it a take that strengthens Gotham as a setting by shedding light on its lower class characters? Is it a take that makes her worth revisiting as a perpetual rogue and not a one off episode where's she's basically a shenanigans-inducing nuisance to Batman? Evolved takes on Catwoman have talked about her desire to seek thrills and paired it with how she dismantles power. So it's not like CC's take is particularly unique, it just lacks all the depth that usually surrounds Selina's thrill seeking.

In a show that is frankly desperate to make it so Bruce doesn't have a personal relationship to his rogues gallery because he's too busy being "A cold, remorseless avenger of evil, seemingly more machine than man. Forged in the fire of tragedy, every fiber of his being is dedicated to the eradication of crime." (according to promo) that's how we end up with Barbara as the foil and humanity to both Harvey Dent and Harley Quinn. How the show focuses on the police force more than Bruce. It feels especially pointed that Catwoman is characterized this way. When she doesn't contrast Bruce, she becomes less personal to him as a character that is poverty stricken but still matches up to him in skill. She can't challenge him or his worldview, he can't find her fascinating as an equal, all of their chemistry and intrigue is erased.

All this to say that of the characters revealed for CC, I was honestly surprised that Selina wasn't one of the many characters racebent. CC followed up on a Black Jim and Barbara Gordon, two characters that have been race swapped before in previous media. Most prominently! Harley is Asian in this iteration, something never done before. So why is it that Selina doesn't follow up on the many times she's been portrayed by Black actresses?

It's because it's an actual good racebend if written well. It wouldn't be a "safe" racebend because writing Selina this way means you'd have to acknowledge racism, and it would be much more noticeable if you didn't. There is no canonized version of Asian Lois Lane that parallels her relationship to Superman as an immigrant. But there is a version of Selina as a Black woman who directly calls out white people and is aware of systemic power. It's in something as prominent and mainstream as Matt Reeves' 2022 Batman. So instead it just reads as cowardice to me that CC couldn't follow up on this evolution of Selina.

Not only does it weaken Catwoman and Batman's relationship to regress Selina this way, but it actively weakens Gotham as a setting and the very themes of Caped Crusader. I personally think all the energy that went into Harley Quinn should have been shared with (or straight up gone to) Selina Kyle. Because unlike CC's take on Harley, the way Selina Kyle's marginalization intersects with race and queerness would have actually critiqued Gotham's class corruption effectively. As a Black queer woman, Selina would be among the most vulnerable people in Gotham. We don't have prominent characters in CC that truly reflect the lower class, there are these unnamed characters Harvey Dent sits next to on a train. There are some orphans with Batfam names. A proper Catwoman reimagining that takes advantage of her evolution would have filled this gap in their narrative.

But that's not how "safe diversity" works. CC would rather racebend and canonize the queerness of a character like their take on Harley Quinn. A WOC who gets to kiss a cop and call out powerful men, but not in a way that makes white people uncomfortable.

If I could edit the Sandman quote that "The great stories will always return to their original forms" for Superheroes, I'd say "The great stories will always return to their most resonant forms" because without iterations we don't get characters like the Kents, Alfred or Catwoman as we know her today. Classics are good to look to, but we like these characters because they evolve. In my opinion, none of CC's takes on these characters of color feel resonant. They're not definitive to the level of Mister Freeze's tragic love story in BTAS, among many standout narrative choices in BTAS that continue across media iterations.

In my opinion, CC isn't as thoroughly clumsy as MAWS is in regards to POC representation and race-swaps (all characters of color in MAWS get put in the left side of that chart I made. In the Sunken Place. Where they all Missed The Movement). However, I can't help but see Caped Crusader's take on the world of Gotham as nothing more than an anecdote in the evolution of Batman's story for the modern era. "It's BTAS but superficially more diverse and with less compelling narrative choices."

#ramblings #caped crusader spoilers #jesncin talks caped crusader #jesncin dc meta #long post under the cut #catwoman #rememberrr pls be nice these are just my thoughts

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darknebula85 · 2 months ago

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23/11/2024, Log of DARKNEBULA85, 1:16 PM...

SPOILERS: Special Edition, Arcane Season 2, Episodes 7-8-9...

As I’m writing this, it’s 4:20 in the morning. I’m on a 24-hour shift, but here I am, watching the new episodes as they’ve just come out. The hype I’m feeling is so intense that I’m not even a little bit sleepy. Episode 7 is both the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking thing I’ve seen in this series. I spent the entire episode thinking, "If only everything had gone right, this is how it all could have ended…” Seeing all the characters together and alive (except Vi) made me so happy, yet it was killing me inside because, in our reality, it’s the complete opposite.Can we all agree that Ekko is the hero of this series??? A guy who had everything taken from him, suddenly gets it all back, and then has to give it up again to save his people. He succeeds in the end, but it’s still so tragic, he accomplished his mission but was left alone, without his family, friends, or the girl he loved. It’s devastating.I was absolutely crushed by the death of my favorite psychotic blue-haired girl because I held onto hope until the very last second that she would survive… But alas, it seems that in both universes, the sisters can’t be happy together. One of them always has to die. Still, I’m glad they each had someone to lean on as they mourned their lost sister (Vi with Cait, Powder with Ekko). And Heimerdinger? My poor little guy died, and no one even noticed. At least he went out happy, knowing he gave someone else the chance to achieve what he couldn’t. And Jayce… I always had faith in him. I’ve supported him since the first season, and I held back from criticizing him in earlier episodes because I knew there was a reason behind his actions. And, oh boy, there sure was. By the way, Ambessa’s design is hands down my favorite, what an absolutely spectacular character design. And the ending… It’s perfect. Everything about this series is perfect. I’ve tried to think of a single bad thing about it, and I just can’t. I don’t think we’ll see another show this perfect for a long time, it’s a true masterpiece in every sense of the word.I really hope the creators expand this universe. There’s still so much left to explore and so many storylines to wrap up, like the Black Rose. If you’ll excuse me, I’m now going to cry myself to sleep, considering I haven’t slept since 8 a.m. yesterday.

Yo seguiré en negación creyendo para mi mismo que Jinx sigue viva

Edit 10:53 PM... DUDE I’m at a party, and there’s literally a guy who looks EXACTLY like Vander. Same clothes, same hair, same beard, same size… I feel like crying and I want to die 😭

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queensunshinee · 3 months ago

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His favorite toy- Part 3 || Art Donaldson x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

(Part 1) (Part 2)

His favorit toy- Part 3:

Art regretted few things in his life. He regretted the number of times he ignored his grandmother's calls or told her he was in a hurry when, in reality, he didn’t have any special plans. It was rude and ungrateful toward a woman who genuinely loved and cared for him, something he couldn’t always confidently say about his parents. He regretted the fact that he lost to Patrick in the Juniors US Open final nearly a year ago, which changed the entire dynamic between them. More than the loss itself, Patrick won and claimed the ultimate prize- Tashi Duncan. Tashi Duncan, the talented, the perfect one. The one who was going to change the world of tennis as they knew it. And Patrick Zweig is fucking her. Art certainly regretted that. The tragic consequence of Patrick and Tashi’s relationship- Art was left alone. He didn’t realize how much of his life revolved around Patrick until their paths diverged. Patrick decided to be Patrick and try his luck as a pro; Art decided to go to college. And he thought that the fact he and Tashi were at the same college would give him a relative advantage, something to hold onto. Something stronger than winning a stupid tennis match. But not for Tashi Duncan. For her, a win is a win, and a loss is a loss, and they always come hand in hand. Tied up with a black ribbon, rubbing salt in his wounds. He hates losing. Being sidelined. He regretted every moment that led to the point where his best friend and the girl the entire universe revolved around, treated him like a charity case. Like he needed to be taken out for a walk before bed whenever Patrick came to visit, so he wouldn’t feel neglected. Fuck it. And fuck them.

Art regretted the day he met you. The time when he came late to the lecture, and you were sitting in the corner, relatively in the back. The first thing that stood out were your glasses, which complemented your delicate face, smiling at him with the shyest smile he’d probably ever encountered. He regretted the feeling that filled him and hasn’t left him since, the desire that you’d never smile at him like that again. He regretted the urge to tell you a joke, to see what you looked like when you laughed. To feel pride because he was the one who made you laugh. He wasn’t the funniest or most charismatic guy in the room—that was always Patrick. But you laughed. And he was right; your real smile, with teeth, was mesmerizing. He regretted how he acted with you. He wanted you to develop some character. Not to be a pushover, certainly not because of him. He loved the power he had and simultaneously hated it. He loved knowing exactly what you were thinking the moment you thought it. Everything seemed to be written on your face, like a superpower he had only with you. He’s a worse person for letting it spread like ivy on a building. So beautiful, but useless. Wrapping around him from all sides until he was choking.

He regretted not treating you the way one should treat a protected flower. To watch from the side and not pick. To watch from the side and not touch. To watch from the side and not ruin. He regretted it because, usually, his impulse was to touch, hurt, and destroy—and for some reason, only with you. Only because you smiled with your teeth and bought him coffee without him asking, because you remembered his order, because you let him use a free smoothie you were supposed to get during your shift, because you tried to teach him statistics in the sexiest way anyone has ever explained averages. Patrick always said that the most delicate and quiet girls are the sexiest, and Art always thought it was bullshit, because what’s sexy about silence? What’s sexy about calmness, and what’s sexy about insecurity? But then you came along. And he regretted that you got the chance to prove him wrong. And wrong again. And again.

And he’ll never tell you, but he woke up early and stared at you sleeping for the last ten minutes, maybe for the last hour, maybe he's been lying next to you for a month already, looking at your face. If you had woken up suddenly, you would have seen the regret smeared across his face like a badge of shame that would never give him peace. He couldn’t believe how many times he had stopped himself when he could have woken up like this, with you breathing deeply, clinging to his arm, completely carefree. The desire to let you keep sleeping turned into a need to touch you, to feel your face under his fingers. If he could, he would tuck you into his back pocket, tie you to a keychain, weave you into a necklace. And his hand gently brushed your cheek, part of him trying to wake you. To poke the bear. The bear that still doesn’t trust him. He knows his place now, he knows that trust is a complicated feeling, and that he hasn’t done anything to earn it. He knows he took and took and took, and even when he clearly saw you had nothing left to give, he knew he could still take more.

"Morning..." Your voice was hoarse from sleep as you blinked in his direction. He needed to get used to this. To learn new things about you. He didn’t think there were more things to learn. He was afraid to know more than necessary—more than what was needed to make the sex good. The sex had been good for a long time. He knew everything he needed for that. He knew your favorite position, knew where to kiss and where to bite, and where his tongue could do the work. He didn’t know that you rubbed your hand on your nose the second you woke up. He didn’t know what your voice sounded like before you had your first coffee. He didn’t know your eyes had a slightly different shade in the morning.

"Hey," his hand, which had been tracing odd shapes on your face, now gently tucked your hair behind your ear. "How do you feel?" he asked, trying to remember the last time he felt such an intense need to be gentle. The thought that you could break in his hands, like an irreplaceable porcelain vase, sent a shiver down his spine. How had he managed to suppress all of this until two days ago? How had he managed to push you into such a distant drawer? To believe that it was just sex. He had even imagined you with other men, sharing experiences with other people. Kissing someone else. Moaning someone else's name. He didn’t think anyone could say his name more beautifully than you did.

"I'm okay. Maybe I had a migraine? I thought I was coming down with something, but I probably exaggerated. I’m sorry you didn’t go home, I feel guilty." Your voice hadn’t fully steadied, but you looked at him with big doe eyes, and all he could do was smile.

"Don’t..." He lowered his head slightly on the awful bed you were sleeping on and looked at you at eye level. His nose brushed against yours in small movements as his hand settled on your waist. "Patrick and Tashi are here too. She has a match tomorrow, so I’ll get to see it." He said, seeing you nod, but something in your body language became tense. "I promised Patrick I’d have breakfast with him, is that okay?" he asked.

"You don’t need my permission to have breakfast with a friend, Art," you said, rolling your eyes, clearly unhappy with the question. In response, he chuckled and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, causing you to pull back almost reflexively. "I haven’t brushed my teeth, Donaldson, and I think we’ve slept for 24 hours."

"Are you implying I smell bad?" Art looked at you with amusement. "You have no idea how bad I smell," you declared, not breaking the playful gaze, as if issuing a new challenge. "So you don’t always smell like peaches? Disappointing. Makes me reconsider everything," he feigned surprise while standing up and quickly getting dressed. "I’ll see you later, Peaches? There's a party tonight, kind of a farewell thing for those still here and not planning to go home. Patrick will come too. It'll be fun," he stated, leaving you no choice as he walked out of the room before you could resist, like he knew you would.

'Wear the sexy dress.' -A- He didn’t wait long to send you that. . . . "So," Patrick looked smug as Art approached the cafeteria. "Anything you want to tell me?" he asked with a half-smile. "No, not exactly." Art sat down next to him with his tray, causing Patrick to roll his eyes. "Where did you sleep last night?" Patrick asked. "You slept at Tashi's," Art responded. "I know where I slept. Where did you sleep?" Patrick was starting to lose patience, not enjoying the fact that there was a whole part of Art's life he didn't know much about. "On a bed," Art said, taking the first sip of his coffee. "You're pretty pleased with yourself, huh? Tell me about the cheerleader, come on," Patrick laughed, unable to ignore the question lingering between them. "Cheerleader?" Art asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She knows nothing about tennis," Patrick stated. "Not everyone knows everything about tennis," Art shot back, looking at his best friend, who was so curious and yet so clueless. Something in Art knew that once Patrick saw you, he wouldn’t be able to let it go. He knew you were exactly what Patrick once wanted, before he met Tashi. And that wasn't why Art was interested in you. That wasn't why Art wanted to make you laugh and orbit around him. It was a nice bonus though. Patrick's curiosity and his need to be a part of everything were always a bonus. "What does she know?" Patrick asked, taking a bite of a sugary roll, managing to get sugar in his hair, which made Art reach out to wipe it off his cheek. Art just bit his lip for a moment and took another sip of coffee.

"You're evil," Patrick declared. He wanted details, and he wanted them now. "Let's just say all your theories about 'good girls' are right," Art said, unable to hold back when he saw Patrick's expression. He was gaping, unable to believe Art had what it took to get a girl like you. "What did she see in you?" Patrick asked. He didn’t mean it to sound mean, but he couldn't understand how someone who was embarrassed to look him in the eye during a tennis match could be with someone like Art. How could she even communicate with him? "I'm a catch," Art rolled his eyes. "A catch of diseases, maybe. I'm serious, Donaldson. Are you in a relationship with her? Should I start saving for the wedding?" he asked. He didn’t want the dry details of how they met. He didn’t want to know the whole history of their relationship. Patrick wanted to know if Art was fucking you. Art knew it, Patrick knew it. He wanted the sign he once gave Art about Tashi. He wanted to know if there was someone new he'd have to fight for Art's attention.

"She's a good friend," Art mumbled. He didn’t know how much he wanted to reveal you to Patrick. How much he wanted you in his best friend's head. Because he knew that if he exaggerated the details, if he told everything he could, Patrick would find a way to ruin it. Not out of malice. Out of pure selfishness. Out of the need to be number one in everyone's priorities. He'd find a way to take this thing Art had, that was just his, and destroy it. "A good friend you sometimes fuck," Patrick said, unable to hide his smile, causing Art to shake his head. "A good friend who's a good friend. She’ll be at the party tonight, so behave like a human," he said, giving Patrick a sharp look. One that didn’t leave room for jokes. "Maybe you should tell Tashi not to call her 'Stats Girl.' I don’t think she liked that," Patrick said in response, raising his hands in fake surrender. "She called her that?" Art looked horrified. "She's not a good cheerleader," Patrick mumbled, looking back at Art. He wasn’t afraid of the little challenge in this staring match. "She left in the middle of your match," he concluded. "Not everyone has to love tennis," Art replied, defensive. "True, but you love tennis," Patrick said, taking the last bite of the roll. Art didn’t wipe the sugar out of his hair this time. He didn’t care anymore. . . . I didn’t wear the dress Art told me to wear. Because, well, it’s Janet’s dress. I wore a different one, simpler but still revealing. Enough cleavage and thighs to define it as revealing, and to define me as someone who feels uncomfortable. At 9, Art still wasn’t in my room, and at 9:15, he texted me which building the party was in and said he was already there. That I should come. So casually. When I arrived, the place was surprisingly packed with people, considering most of the students were supposed to have already gone home. Someone passed by and burped, making me cringe and step away, trying to find Art among the crowd.

‘Where are you?’ –(Y/N)–

A few minutes passed, and he didn’t answer, so I found a corner free of people making out and stood close to the wall, scanning the room. “He’s with Tashi,” the half-familiar voice of one of Art’s friends sounded beside me. “Excuse me?” I mumbled, trying not to stare at the guy leaning against the wall, almost mirroring my movement. “He’s outside, talking to Tashi about her match tomorrow. You know, tennis,” he answered, and for once, I actually looked at him. His dark curls were the antithesis of Art Donaldson’s, but the smug smile, the one that knew secrets and wasn’t ready to share them with me, was almost identical. “Okay?” It was more of a question than an answer. I didn’t understand why he was telling me this. I didn’t understand the point of burdening me with this information.

“I asked him why we didn’t pick you up before the party, so you’d come with us too,” he spoke as if he were telling a bedtime story to a three-year-old, as if there was a moral to every sentence that came out of his mouth. As if I needed to listen and decode metaphors now, learning life anew from someone whose last name I didn’t even know. “Did he have an interesting answer?” I asked, not taking my eyes off him. “He said you two arranged to meet here,” Patrick replied. “Well, Pete,” we both knew I remembered his name, that I was trying to maintain some semblance of power even though the balance was currently against me, “he didn’t lie, if that’s what’s bothering you,” I rolled my eyes. And no, Art hadn’t said he’d pick me up, and we’d go to the party together, but I hadn’t even wanted to come. I’d have preferred to be in my dorm right now, working on my assignment or reading a book. I would have preferred not to see familiar but foreign faces, not to watch people making out in front of everyone and drinking themselves senseless.

“It’s Patrick,” he corrected me despite everything, “are you dating him?” he asked, his gaze fixed on my profile because I had stopped looking at him, trying to focus on everything around me instead. And I couldn’t say it was dating, because yesterday was the first time he suddenly decided I was important enough to call me 'girlfriend.' Important enough to treat me like a person and not like something that belonged to him, something he bought without spending much. “Why do you ask?” I answered with a question, because that was the only answer I had to offer. “Want something to drink?” he chuckled. Who chuckles these days? Why does he sound exactly like Art?! “No, I need to get up early tomorrow,” I replied. “One glass?” he insisted, closer to my ear now because the music was loud. “Okay,” I shrugged, not fully understanding the nature of this interaction or where Art was and why he told me to come to this stupid party if he had no intention of even saying hello.

Patrick came back with two red cups and handed me one. He tried to talk to me, but all I could do was stare at the entrance until Art walked in, deeply engaged in conversation with Tashi, not even bothering to look up to search for me. “I need to get up early tomorrow,” I mumbled suddenly, cutting Patrick off in the middle of explaining something about his tour and why he wasn’t in college because he decided to go pro. “It was nice talking to you,” I smiled the most genuine smile I could muster at that moment and peeled myself off the wall.

“He’ll always do this, you know that, right?” Patrick suddenly said. And there was a knowing look in his eyes and a serious expression, as much as he could muster. “Excuse me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll always choose Tashi,” Patrick declared. “Isn’t she your girlfriend or something?” I asked, feeling my jaw tighten. I didn’t have to be nice to this guy. He was Art’s friend, not mine. Aside from offering me a drink, he hadn’t tried to be nice to me. In fact, in every opportunity he had over the last two days, he had been rude. “It was nice meeting you, cheerleader,” he concluded and walked toward Art, as if leaving me behind.

I felt the tightness taking over me. I took advantage of the fact that Art was no longer near the door to slip out of the party, allowing myself to let the tears fall on the way. “Hey, hey, Peaches. Wait a sec,” his voice sounded from afar, and I knew from the tone that he was panicking, that he realized too late what the situation was. “Are you getting off on humiliating me?” I asked, turning to face him. “I mean, what the hell did I ever do to you? What did I do besides love you that makes you treat me like this?!” My voice was mixed with sobs I was ashamed of. They broadcast weakness more than anything else. Art stood there, slightly open-mouthed. His eyes were glazed over and red from alcohol. “I, I was just talking to friends—” he started. “Why did you ask me to come to this party?” I asked, sniffling a little. “Because I wanted to spend some time with you, show you off,” he got closer to me, his hands finding their way to my cheeks, as if that were their natural place while his forehead pressed against mine, not taking his eyes off my face. “Yeah? How’s that going so far? Because in the hour I’ve been here, you didn’t even think it necessary to respond to my text.” I gently moved his hands off me and took a step back.

“I—” “You what? You’re going to keep trying to convince me I’m important? That you love me? That you talk about me with your grandma, and then treat me like I’m some old shirt you bought at a second-hand store and will throw away in two days?” I asked. “What the hell do you want from me, Art? Why won’t you just let me move on?” It was desperate. “Because I can’t. The thought of you moving on scares me,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s not my fault she doesn’t love you,” I said, wiping my tears. “You don’t have to make me feel like she makes you feel.” I looked at him, almost pleading. “You’re exaggera—” “I wore a nice dress. I came to a party I didn’t want to come to. I stood in a corner for an hour with your rude friend. While you were outside with someone you care about more than me, someone whose company matters more to you than mine. And that’s totally fine. Just let me go already,” I said firmly. . . . And as he watched you walk away, he realized exactly what he had lost. And he doesn’t know if it’s love, but he felt the pain in his bones. And if there’s one thing Art Donaldson is sure of, it’s that you deserve better.

Hi there, how are we all doing? This part was more chill on the smut stuff (sorry) but had more Patrick in it, and we got more of Art's pov. Tell me what you guys think. I still don't know if it's the end of the story. I think it might be. Maybe it's time to move on to other ideas and take some requests. I don't know yet. Feel like it's the end for these two. Anyway, tell me what you think. Hearing from you guys is always the best part <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #his favorite toy #art donaldson smut

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xplore-the-unknwn · 8 months ago

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The Core of the Planet of the Apes Franchise ft. Wes Ball (Director)

"Can Ape and Human live together? and I think what its really saying is Can two people who are different live together?"

Sci Fi’s purpose is always to question, test and challenge what we understand. And Planet of the Apes has always been a satire to the ego of humanity and their hunger for dominance. In a fictional world where Apes became the 'humans'/sentient intelligent species and men are likened to beasts. What kind of world will that look like? What kind of dynamic or relationships can that bring? and the Franchise has always been about asking that question.

Now enter our new main characters. Wes said the focus of the new movies will center around Noa and Mae’s very unique dynamic. A girl and a sentient ape both different but both similar in doing what they can to protect their loved ones.

and there’s nothing wrong if you get curious with how their relationship will develop. Is that something heinous? to root for a dynamic that can greatly influence the fictional world they live in?

tbh thats what the film WANTS- Make you curious. ASK THE QUESTIONS IT WANTS ASKED.

Peak storytelling. All I see is a Director smartly pinning the tension between these two main characters to further hook us to seeing more of the next films they’re making. A masterclass in creative writing too. With that we can ask the questions- If apes were sentient like humans how will we treat them? Who do we root for knowing human nature tends to be destructive? IF we understand each other’s differences can we learn from each other and live side by side? Circling back to the question-

Can Ape and Human live together?

And those questions will be answered through THEM- Noa and Mae.

Theres a-lot of importance in their dynamic and the future that they’ll bring with it. Will it be tragic or hopeful?

See, it intriguesss.

and thats Sci Fi’s purpose. That’s the Planet of The Ape’s message.

Also with the fandom ship or not ship yall just ENJOY this franchise and let its underlying messages speak to you. Thats what the filmmakers and actors behind this film would want too (I feel for them sm and see the passion to get this done and I just want to VOICE out that this beautiful movie and the characters they worked hard on are greatly appreciated)

#I love their dynamic theres alot of good writing between them #If those questions dont shake you to your very core then you better start reading more Sci Fi and get your minds blown more often #Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes #planet of the apes #pota #kotpota #noa #mae #pota noa #pota mae #wes ball #nomae #noamae #noa x mae #owen teague #freya allan #sci fi #franchise #analysis

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realmermaid333 · 4 months ago

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I love how the hunger games is about maintaining empathy and fighting for justice no matter what. But also how it is about perseverance.

All the surviving characters persevered. They found a way to be okay despite all of the horrors they'd been through. Despite them all losing everything they feared they'd lose. And they were still okay.

Katniss lost her sister even though she was terrified to lose her and did everything in her power to save her, including sacrificing herself. That's why this story started after all. And despite it, Katniss kept on going. She found hope and joy in Peeta, in the songs her dad taught her when she was a little girl, in the woods and the comfort they'd always bring her, she found hope in herself.

Peeta lost the version of himself that he so desperately clung to in beginning. And despite it, he still kept fighting and getting help until he could get better and pick up the pieces. He painted his memories, the good and the bad, and found joy in the little things. In the sunsets, in the smell of the breads he baked on his own terms without his cruel mother looming over him. He found joy in Katniss and the life they built together.

Haymitch lost his mom, brother, and girlfriend after surviving his brutal game and losing his district partner. And after years of rotting away and drowning himself with alcohol, he pulled himself together and showed up once Katniss and Peeta gave him hope. And despite it all he found comfort and joy in his geese and in Katniss and Peeta in the end. He still spent his days drinking, but this time he wasn't alone and he had to get out of bed each morning to tend to his feathered babies.

Annie lost Finnick even though she wanted nothing more than for him to be safe. Even though they'd just gotten married after finally being reunited. And she persevered anyway. She didn't let the darkness after his passing consume her like it did after she won her games. She became a mother and survived due to and for the love she had for her son. Like Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch- she survived.

And I think that is tragic, yes, but also incredibly beautiful. There's always another way. Despite it all.

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #annie cresta #haymitch abernathy #Thg analysis #mermaid speaks

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kingmaxstatic · 2 months ago

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Mainly putting this on my main blog because F/Ovember is currently happening on @staticshipstation (check that out btw)

But one of the reasons I have “if you villainize Amanda/Wooly DNI” is not only because.. well they’re my kids and I adore them. Like these are not villains these are my beautiful imperfect children.

But also because honestly?… I think it’d really hurt the story if either turned out to be true.

One of the reasons I love and adore ATA is its story and how fucking tragic and almost real it is. Guy with genuine heart and ambition wants to achieve his dreams (Sam) but some fuckass corporation taints his goal of wanting to help children (Hamlen). It’s the story of a shitty company doing shitty things to people who don’t deserve it.

And I’m sorry but having the wrench of “OH YEAH AND ALSO THE LITTLE GIRL/SHEEP ARE EVIL!!!” Is.. so out there and would honestly just be really awkward in the story.

Like are Wooly and Amanda perfect? By all means no. But people are acting like Wooly is some Disney twist villain from the 2010s or that Amanda is some spoiled brat. When the reality is that both of them, to an extent, are victims.

They just deal with their traumas VERY VERY differently.

Amanda keeps being invasive and even aggressive at times. This anger is justified, by all means, Jesus Christ. She deserves to be angry. But at the same time that doesn’t negate the fact she’s hurt people doing this, though it’s important to note that doesn’t mean her own pain doesn’t valid. Wooly tends to bootle shit up and push it to the side. When something in his so obviously wrong in front of him he hides it so deep. He’s scared it might trigger something and that he might get hurt.

These characters and the dynamic is just so deep and complex that the sudden twist of “OH AND WOOLY WAS WORKING FOR HAMLEN THE WHOLE TOME >:D!!” Or “AMANDA WAS ACTUALLY TRYING TO KILL YOU!!” In my opinion, minimizes everything set up.

I want to end this off by saying that anyone is valid for believing these theories, despite my qualms with them, I can understand how people came to these conclusions… however it’s just not content I really want to engage with personally.

#amanda the adventurer #wooly the sheep #ATA #oh wow I like games other than sonic CRAZY/JOKE

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mirrorcatcreditcard · 23 days ago

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ALNST analysis about Luka's "Drowing Bloom" Patreon post and his page

The following analysis is formulated in response to this query from a mutual of mine. The post states as follows:

I just read the new, free Patreon post and. huh. what do you mean "LUKA has never felt insecure in his life" lmao. isn't it official information that he used to have low self-esteem? how does "had low self-esteem" and "has never felt insecure in his life" go together. unless it's another definition of "insecure" that's being used here? I'm somewhat confused but also that's a funny sentence tbh

I'm here to talk about that, though I'll mainly be dissecting the new Patreon content.

The following content will contain discussions of Luka, Hyuna, Hyun Woo, HyunLuka, child abuse, unconventionally/potentially uncomfortable love and relationship, bullying, and social isolation.

To begin this discussion, I will clarify any doubts that may be had about the exact wording. (I haven't been able to find any translation analysis/translators who can clarify because Patreon posts are already translated, so you'll have to excuse my limited capabilities.)

In the post, Luka's "insecure" mentioned above is related to the word "uneasy" of the first sentence; but when I put it through a translator to get each word separately, they were all spelled differently while having mostly similar/related characters. The words originally came out as "unstable" when the sentences were together. When I translated them on their own, I obtained three different results.

불안합니다 "He is anxious/I am anxious."

것입니다 "feeling anxious"

불안하다는 "I feel anxious"

After wasting about an hour and writing an unnecessary amount of analysis I ended up scrapping, I come to the conclusion that they are all synonymous and simply changed for grammar reasons or clarity.

(If you care, here's a list of English equivalents for the different groupings: uneasy, anxious, insecure, unstable, nervousness, trepidation. Someone who knows Korean can correct me if I'm wrong about anything.)

Next in line, I will analyze the overall picture of Hyuna and Luka's relationship through the years. (Read also, we finally get HyunLuka analysis through the flowers + Hyun Woo mentions.)

Hyuna and Luka were intimately close as children. With the addition of Hyun Woo, the three are almost always depicted together, like inseparable friends. Hyuna consistently allowed Luka to engage in behaviors other humans saw as off-putting or disgusting around her. Lacking expressions and engagement in interaction, disregarding others' presence and emotions to the point of being physically hurtful, and constantly sucking on or biting objects and Hyuna herself—she accepted it all and even showed that she did not consider it queer/unnatural. Luka repeatedly expressed his "love" for her as possession and desires for control. He has been conditioned to believe that care/love is obsession and obedience. He is not able to force the girl he loves (physically and mentally) but wants her near him and subordinate to him so she can never have to worry again and he can control everything around her. This is in direct relation to the fact that he has no worries for his future because his path had already been set out for him since the concept of "Luka" existed.

But don't forget Hyuna's side of this relationship. Hyuna, who originally had her precious brother with her and led both Hyun Woo and Luka in playing together. Hyuna loved Luka so much that she would let him do anything he wanted, really. One of her canonical regrets is how permissive she allowed herself to be with him. People think that Hyuna doesn't love Luka anymore or simply cut it all off when her brother died. That's simply not true. The fandom has labeled them as "tragic heteros," and I think that's a fitting title. They're beautiful opposites. From the start, Hyuna has always been seen as the extroversion to Luka's introversion. She jumps into situations, and he follows.

Luka's love is insecure (translated flower-wise as anxious) because of their past and conflicting ideals. It says in the Patreon post that "LUKA thought the whole time he was away from HYUNA. About what he should have done, and how on earth he could be more connected to his loved ones than blood." I'd like to point out that loved ones is plural. Luka has loved more than just Hyuna in his life. And the loved ones he had either had someone who was blood related who he felt was closer than him (jealousy) or shedding blood seemed like the only way to have those people close to him (obsessive behavior).

Hyuna loves so strongly that the flower used means that her love is "without measure." Hyuna doesn't look back yet still holds affection and care inside, locked away because addressing the love means addressing the trauma. Her "love" also connects to the revolution and freedom. She has an emptiness inside of her, and she makes the steps to fill it with her own two hands. She will not drown in grief and let the two ones she loved most being removed from her life make her stop reaching out for her love of freedom. She was a girl with no idea what she was doing when she escaped, but she has grown into a woman who is determined to live her life for herself.

The contrast and similarity is striking.

Luka's description makes him sound weak, the image of lying down and feeling water flow over your hand comes to me. The acceptance and surety of fate and letting life be is the behavior I struggle to find a word for that isn't complacency. He feels inactive, only pondering how he could have changed things but never doing anything.

Hyuna's description sounds desperate and bold. We know from "All-In" that she still gets vivid flashbacks even when soaked in noise and distractions. She is a person who works impulsively and passionately, putting her whole heart into something. Littered with regrets—she has to push on to survive.

Yet, these two are so similar.

They held the love inside of them deep down, never speaking of it aloud except in the only ways that they know how to show themselves—song. Their flowers are both colorful because of their individual beauties that they show in their own way. It is Hyuna who was insinuated to have influenced Luka in seeing the stage as a place where he can be in control.

They are both empty due to loss, both coping by leaving the past behind and physically unaddressed (despite different mentalities behind the actions). While Hyuna doesn't look back and distracts herself, Luka wears a mask and deludes himself, and they both pretend the world is going to work out the way they need because they are in control in their own minds. They're simultaneously trapped in their ideologies, and this conflict is the reason they are the "tragic heteros" of the narrative.

Moving on, I will talk about the page whose image I will provide below. (ID in alt text, English only)

As much as I consider Herperu the lowest of low, I cannot discredit his words and say he knows nothing of Luka. He made it his personal mission to know every detail of his finest creation. Luka was tailor-made after all, with many fans theorizing that he was created in a lab/test tube-like container. While I cannot give you canon facts for something unstated, I can give you a handful of theories concerning why Heperu claims Luka has low self-esteem.

Luka may have had confidence issues from his ostracization in Anakt Garden. (He was ignored by his peers and, in an official comic, shown to be treated like he didn't exist/wasn't significant. Assuming this was normal behavior given to him in his days at Anakt Garden, there is good reason to believe that when Hyuna left/grew distanced after Hyun Woo's death, so did his only hold on interaction with a fellow human.)

Luka is conditioned to believe everything Heperu tells him unconditionally and holds onto the sentiment of how he will be no good if he isn't "talented enough" as well as his mandatory duty to be the god among men of idols. (He must always be in perfect shape in order to present himself. There can never be a flaw. His autonomy does not exist. He is a good for others to take from. He must be a model pet.)

Luka's only confidence came from his performance and acting, he had no real confidence in himself as a person, away from cameras, or off-stage. (He seems to have adopted Hyuna's philosophy of singing giving a person freedom to express how they are, seeing as he is more expressive on-stage and masks everywhere else.)

Herperu's words could be what is a common case of "assuming you know what a creature wants/is feeling from researching instead of asking directly." (Segyein see humans like humans see animals. If an animal shows certain behaviors, we consult resources in order to know how to view and approach the situation. If research told Heperu that Luka had low self-esteem, then he would believe that rather than ask his pet how he feels.)

Heperu could be gaslighting Luka into thinking he has low self-esteem or gaslighting the press into thinking Luka is "humble" or whatever.

I, personally, don't have full trust of segyein's descriptions of humans because it's obvious that they very rarely (if ever) ask the human how they're feeling or neglect to even do simple analysis of humanity. (Also, Heperu is incredibly selfish and manipulative, without a single thought or consideration being about Luka's comfort, happiness, or healthy living. Honestly, I hate that alien. I hope his dick-shaped head-body snaps in two.)

To wrap this analysis up, my conclusion is simple. It is up to a fan's interpretation to figure out whether they think Luka has low self-esteem, is in a constant state of surety, used to have low self-esteem and has now changed that state of mind, or exists as a mixture of multiple states in multiple areas. Canon's conflict stems from information we cannot fully be sure on, and the creators remark about the complexity of Luka's emotions and the inability for almost anyone. "We don't know if anyone will ever know LUKA's heart..." They admit that there is a limit and that he is a difficult creature to understand.

Extra: my personal theories

Personally, I believe that Luka has low self-esteem due to his view of himself as worthless without his trained skills and inferior to segyein by existence. I believe he has never been insecure because he has never tried to drift from the path that was paved for him. I believe he still knows that the love between him and Hyuna is insecure because of the instinct that the Patreon post mentions; it would be more accurate to use the synonyms "uneasy/unstable." He is stable/secure in his livelihood so long as he follows the life that he knows no alternative from; his relationship is unstable/insecure due to the trauma on Hyuna's end and his forceful nature; he had low self-esteem either from his peers' isolation or from Heperu's reminders that he is only worth something as long as Heperu deems it so.

Thanks for reading.

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