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beyourselfchulanmaria · 6 months ago

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Israel lobby’s attack on Kostakidis threatens everyone’s right to free speech

以色列遊說團體對科斯塔基迪斯的攻擊威脅到每個人的言論自由權

By Greg Barns Jul 17, 2024

☆ Greg Barns SC 他是澳洲律師聯盟國家刑事司法發言人

Greg Barns SC is National Criminal Justice Spokesman for the Australian Lawyers Alliance

👆 📣 Well said 👍

這正所謂言論自由和公平正義都不應該以「雙重標準」狡猾的方式進行運作，當然所有言論也必要受法律之約束下；不可無限上綱。為什麼看著全世界各地專搞民主、民權和民運之士，多數走到最後幾乎都如出一轍、千篇一律的教人心寒和唾棄與失望，人性的醜陋。 😣😔 所以我欽佩這位律師，敢於言，匡正大眾視聽而盡一己之力。謝謝! Lan~*

This is what the so-called freedom of speech and fairness and justice should not operate in a cunning way of "double standards". Of course, all speech must be subject to the constraints of the law; it cannot be unlimited. Why do people all over the world who specialize in democracy, civil rights and democratic movement, most of them are almost the same in the end, causing people to feel chilling, despised and disappointed? This is the ugliness of human nature. 😣😔 So I admire this lawyer who dares to speak out and do his part to correct the public’s hearing as well. Thanks! Lan~*

瑪麗·科斯塔基迪斯是澳洲最優秀的記者之一，但更重要的是，她也堅決反對壓迫和不公義。

Mary Kostakidis is one of Australia’s finest journalists, but more than that, she also resolutely stands against oppression and injustice.

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加薩衝突顯示澳洲的言論自由和表達自由是多麼脆弱。這再次暴露出，如果沒有憲法保障的言論自由權，我們的法律和政策就可能被想要封住對手嘴巴的利益集團��顛覆。

The Gaza conflict has shown how fragile freedom of speech and freedom of expression is in Australia. It has exposed yet again that without a constitutionally protected free speech right, our laws and policies can be subverted by interest groups who want to tape the mouths of their opponents.

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在本分析中，我不會對卡蘇托投訴提出任何法律觀點，特別是據稱使用《聯邦種族歧視法》第18C 條，該法禁止做出合理可能「冒犯、侮辱、羞辱或恐嚇」的行為“基於種族或民族的人。”

I am not, in this analysis, offering any legal views on the Cassuto complaint, particularly the purported use of s18C of the Commonwealth Racial Discrimination Act, which prohibits the doing of an act that is reasonably likely to “offend, insult, humiliate or intimidate” someone on the basis of their race or ethnicity.”

順便說一句，雖然具有諷刺意味，但考慮到這個國家的極右翼的嚴重虛偽，他們沒有為科斯塔基迪斯女士辯護，這並不奇怪。極右翼人士討厭第 18C 條，因為他們說該條對他們進行審查。但當適合他們的時候，他們很高興看到以色列遊說團體和他們支持的其他事業訴諸這一條款。

As an aside however it is ironic, but not surprising given the gross hypocrisy of the hard right in this country, that they are not coming to Ms. Kostakidis’ defence. The hard right hates section 18C because they say it censors them. But when it suits them they are happy to see the Israel lobby and other causes they support, resorting to this provision.

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但首先，我們要對針對言論自由和表達自由的攻擊進行一些一般性觀察，這種攻擊隨著加薩衝突在澳洲的上演而不斷發生。

But first some general observations about the attack on freedom of speech and freedom of expression which is coming thick and fast the way the Gaza conflict is playing out in Australia.

☆ 呼籲消滅以色列並不比聲稱對巴勒斯坦人進行種族清洗是可以接受的更加可憎。然而媒體似乎更關注後者而不是前者。

To call for the eradication of Israel is no more odious than statements that ethnic cleansing of Palestinians is acceptable. Yet it seems the media focuses on the latter rather than the former.

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雖然媒體「追捕」像科斯塔基迪斯女士和該國其他知名人士這樣的人，他們從反對以色列及其行動的角度出版和轉載材料，但對那些支持以色列的人卻很少或根本沒有同樣的抗議。屬於國際刑事法院程序和國際法院裁決主題的犯罪行為。

我們什麼時候看到澳洲媒體或政治機構騷擾這些人？絕不。

但我們從澳洲當權者那裡聽到和讀到的是，批評者是「反猶太主義」的。這是一個使用如此頻繁的誹謗，它重新定義了“過度使用”一詞。它旨在進行審查。總理阿爾巴尼斯先生通過將納稅人的資金花在特別專員身上來迎合澳大利亞的親以色列團體，從而推動了這一進程？為什麼不設立一個專員來保護亞裔澳洲人或來自非洲國家的人呢？

While the media ‘goes after’ people like Ms. Kostakidis and other high profile individuals in this country who publish and republish material from the perspective of those opposed to Israel and its actions, there is little or no equivalent outcry over those who are endorsing Israel’s crimes. Crimes which are the subject of the International Criminal Court process and rulings from the International Court of Justice.

When do we see the Australian media or political establishment harass these people? Never.

But what we do hear and read from the Australian establishment is that critics are ‘antisemitic’. This is a slur which is so frequent in its use, it redefines the term ‘over used’. It is designed to censor. And the Prime Minister Mr Albanese has given it a boost with his pandering to the pro Israel groups in Australia by spending taxpayers funds on a special commissioner? Why not a commissioner to protect Asian Australians or those from African countries?

#israel #palestine #media #politics #mary kostakidis #greg barns #greg barns sc

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scentedchildnacho · 2 months ago

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This reports that larceny is a common problem in Riverside....and the staff should not have made rules to grab homeless people's property......and thats the staff tried to blame me for stuff they do to me like make rules to permanently steal my property

This reports vandalism larceny and narcotics is a lot of what they profile there is no strange religious discourse

This states they are a government and do not have God related politics

Sometimes assault sometimes crime they report as other and haven't profiled yet

And that's the police are state scary though you cannot have free love cultures here and anonymity and all that common trust and goodness have to own things

My international...........leadership class just said I don't enjoy how she makes decisions to deal with things I have been homeless like a decade and I get impatient for violent offenders like he can arrest me for no crime to finally be forced away from me

She does it so he realizes that if he can't control how he behaves then he has to be given what he wants and it was these very strict regulations on japanese culture that created these gardens of good and evil so

Biblical studies the Japanese though were the first time a distinct ethnicity was removed

Strictly stated no Japanese

He likes and wants alcoholic privilege and they apparently don't like their police districts having to get involved in things that maybe strictly affect immigration and the mafia will take care of him comfortably

Fruit trees with thorns...maybe isn't cocaine that desires for immediate cruelty and temper are wanted

He can want very comfortable dining so

Uhm well tomah and the mission inn are here and he will want to create female troops so if he wants to threaten me with violent crime after trying to permanently dispossess me of my property then she as white chick must need a job there training on violent offenders my doppelganger must be here then

Nat Turner and women's rights a chick must be really able then to kick that huge mean ugly black guys ass then

He will want to go into the darkness of the mission inn for hospitality off cruelty to the homeless so

My book on homeless directors said they are alcoholics so they do believe in the full fantasy.....so he did tell himself then that he just did a days job threatening poverty with jail Nazis

Anyway mine okubo.....

The homeless shelter was maybe a Japanese internment space I dont know how long continued oriental segregations would kind of do that to white people call them the poor know how and us excessively financially burdened

So the staff kind of lies they claim that the shelter is going to be shut down and the mine okubo exhibit explains that they were gulags and they would give depressive work vouchers to pick or tutor or something

So thats me about theft of me they don't give me the vouchers to go do things

It appears that orientals more may re possess it as an internment museum but as far as I can see if homeless are told to leave the shelter they don't have anywhere to go I find them on sidewalk tarps or collapsed somewhere they don't have anywhere to go

My pharmacology teacher just said I should realize about the huge creepy black guy that threatened me violently that his skin is too fair and that's why he needs the comfortability all the time....

If he tries to set me up for jail rapes and pill deaths then that's how she has decided to deal with his violence problems is pharmacology

He was black and wouldn't stop being a mean smoking black guy and had to whiten himself then

And now I may start enjoying the revenge on him that way

Kathryn Bear well he scared me for homeless children also so

It is important to want to keep him behind the access center front desk as jobs has alerted me that if I feel really attacked and domestically abused they also have attackers so no no shifting people around before this study is concluded

I dont know but huge mean black guy must have wished on me the going to call police routine because he had to eventually play the role and serve the punishment for calling cops beat cops to call if you feel like it

No empathy there at all ...

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thesecretattic · 2 years ago

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Can’t stop crying more sick I have fever n brain is numb can’t breathe can’t think my brain has been shutting down since the past few days this happens when you are about to die in a span of 3-4 days… I was ruthlessly killed or murdered. He was insensitive with me like my mother I still woke up saying I loved him ❤️ he himself had said “I’m not forcing you” while asking for my bb pin but I was called a forcer chaser etc. etc. because of him, I was also told “How dare you? How audacious of you to like someone BACK cuz he came first. I was told I should get cancer and due on my birthday I have been repeatedly cursed and asked to die on my birthday every birthday and I never get wished either it just went by, no family no friends my mother ruined my health by torturing me for years since childhood and although she knew I’ve become so conscious of my looks now due to repeated torture that I haven’t taken sunlight or vitamin D since 2017 she still winces at me and derides my looks when I switch on the table lamp, how offending? I’m done with this constant humiliation and fever and torture everyday, I was told no one will even rape me (long before I shared that scientific logic and said that it’s more important for men to look good so stop pressurising girls cuz if we aren’t aroused we won’t be lubricated and it would be a forced entry that’s rape in true sense, and no girl is interested in your body moreover average looking girls can be smart but average men are average even on the IQ level shame on you all I can’t write yet I’m made to reiterate all this, cuz for us it’s not easy to look good due to PMS (13 days) and Ovulation (10 days) which had symptoms such as bloating in fingers face body,. frizzy hair breakouts, etc. Average men don’t have any reason to look ugly and it depends on the quality or caliber hence average looking men are internally even on the mental level average but for girls it’s difficult to maintain their looks so stop comparing us we can be smarter than them and still look the same I’ve explained why now stop ruining our lives in India as a female. Girls end up in pain during ovulation too if you have enough frigging experience I’m a virgin my whole youth and 10 years went by in a flash I’m a virgin you are not, you might be knowing girls are the ones who actually need Sx due to their ovulation pain also they need that stimulation but yet I said I’ll be okay if I’ll get a platonic relationship for life or a half open marriage but it has to be with someone of my choice I can’t be with a perv I can’t be a reject either I don’t want to be anyone’s subservient it’s not my “duty” it’s not a CUSTOM. Bye world, bye India. - Zara Sauleh

I’m more innocent than her, nowadays teens somehow writing they literally watch polygamy YouTubers too… and such objectifying clips my goodness! I was shocked! Sick men objectifying girls… I can’t watch all this Rihanna video was different but clearly this is TORTURE. I’m getting wheezing now my legs are lifeless cold.

My cousin shared a video of Rihanna in a backless dress cuz she read about that Aneri’s backless memory to torture me more my heart is in my mouth I’m getting dizzy and anxious my muscles had already flattened out and become cold I can’t sit my legs are lifeless and paralysed rn help. I’m somehow sharing this, once I had not eaten anything at night and there were only 2 pav (bread) left for the next day for at least breakfast as I was sleeping on an empty stomach but my aunt ate one and as soon as my COUSIN heard the other one was left for me and I was sleeping hungry she asked for it inspite of having 5-6 chapatis and STUFFED her face with that pav… she forcibly ate it just so I wouldn’t and I was hungry in the morning too I’m treated like trash here. She once had 10 mangoes in a day just because her father had one… she keeps comparing all our household goods and she’s too jealous of my iPhone I didn’t have a camera for years since the past 10 years. There’s a lot more which I cannot write. My limbs are cold and lifeless I’m dying heartbeats fast

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x3rrorx · 1 year ago

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On the misogyny topic:

She places so much of her value on the fact that men think she’s pretty and want to sleep with her, which is internalized misogyny. Presenting herself as better than other women because she slept with a man and then putting down those women for not having slept with that man (“we are not the same”) is misogyny. And yes, the other anon is right, the insinuation is that other women are too ugly to have the high achievement (and “achieve” is the word she has used in this context) of sleeping with a man. And she does go straight to calling women she doesn’t like ugly all the time, especially you. On top of that, she actually has called you an ugly whore.

Noah is desirable to a lot of women right now, and so she brags about her “achievement” of sleeping with him because he is her trophy that proves to herself that she’s better than other women.

(And these are just the things I could pull up off the top of my head in a couple minutes. Also even if you’re upset with someone, if you go straight to misogyny then yes you are misogynistic.)

Carolina is absolutely NOT a “girls’ girl.” Her entire thing in all of this has been misogyny. She has internalized misogyny because she places her value on her sex appeal to men. She’s misogynistic because she perpetuates the idea that she’s better than other women (especially you) because she slept with a man.

So no, she doesn’t now get to play the misogyny card. At best she is just as bad, at worst she’s actually a far worse offender. Don’t throw stones from glass houses.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

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nematoada · 3 years ago

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@ the girl in fye shitting on togashis art style saying 2011 made it better,,, must be difficult having bad taste

#she called it ugly and i was so internally offended #like girl….. 2011????#i bought a kurapika shot glass to spite her even though it’s 2011 kurapika #hxh

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 years ago

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The Chicks Love It

Rowan Week day 2: Rowan and the Cadre

This is just a silly little fic I wrote (mostly) last night, but I hope you have fun reading it!!

Warnings: language, Fenrys, mild smut, mentions of STD, neon condoms if you’re triggered by that (I am)

Word count: 1,4k

~~~~

“Why didn’t we invite Gable?” Fenrys asked while they were placing their bets.

“Who’s Gable?”

“The one that fucked you on the table.”

Rowan frowned his angriest frown at Fenrys. The boyo wasn’t near as funny as he thought he was. However, Lorcan was cackling at this poor, lousy joke. His friend’s bulky figure was leaning over the table as he punched it and wheezed. And whenever Lorcan Salvaterre smiled, there were only two possible explanations: Elide or beer. Since they were in their monthly dudes only and no wives gathering, it was the latter.

He sat back, ignoring the two dipshits and looked at his watch. Connall and Vaughan went to get snacks in the kitchen forty minutes ago, but Rowan wasn’t drunk enough to go looking for those two. Instead, he focused on the game. Elide didn’t like it when they used money, so Lorcan was making them bet with random objects.

Apart from his phone and wallet, Rowan only had his watch and a chocolate bar he bought for Aelin on his way here. The reasonable choice would be to give away his watch, since it had been cheaper than the chocolate and his wife hated it. On the other hand, Rowan loved that ugly thing. He didn’t love chocolate, that was for sure. But his wife did. His gorgeous wife who was currently saving the world from... something.

He took another sip of his beer, and when he studied the table, his mind went blank. Lorcan had offered his allergy meds, and Fenrys was betting an open package of neon condoms.

Rowan breathed deep and schooled his face. He needed to look stern for this particular confrontation.

“Why are you betting a neon condom?”

Fenrys gaped, offended. “Dude, it glows in the dark.”

“Why would I need my dick to glow in the dark?”

“It looks cool, like a lightsaber or something. The chicks love it.”

Rowan blinked, too afraid to ask what did he mean by chicks.

“What do you mean by chicks?” Lorcan addressed the elephant in the room.

“This girl I was hooking up with last week told me she was a Star Wars fan and I bought it to use with her.”

Lorcan snorted. “And they say romance is dead.”

Fenrys waved the opened condom package at Rowan. “Come on, man. They’re green!”

Frowning, Rowan gathered all his inner strength to not accept this. He was very easily persuaded by the color green. But then he took off his watch and let it go. It was too late to try to reason with Fenrys, of all people.

˜˜

“Dr. Whitethorn?”

Aelin hummed, focused on her paperwork.

“Your husband is here, he’s—“

“What happened?” she asked in a beat, her eyes snapping to her intern in a millisecond.

The boy’s eyes went wide. “No! I- I mean, he’s not a patient! He’s just asking for you.”

Aelin’s whole body relaxed and she sighed. “God, we need to go over on how to give news to people.”

She hurried to the unusually calm ER, and saw from a distance Rowan and Fenrys bickering, and Lorcan drowsing with his head hang. She approached them, but not before taking a picture and sending to Elide.

“I’m not naive enough to ask what happened to Connall and Vaughan.” Aelin closed the privacy curtain. “Where’s my patient?”

Fenrys relaxed on his seat wiggled his eyebrows at Aelin, and she already knew what was coming.

“My name’s Fenrys, but you can call me anytime.”

Rowan immediately slapped the back of his friend’s head. “My wife!” He pointed at his wedding band. “Wife!” And then pointed at Aelin. “Mine.” At last, his index finger darted between the two of the repeatedly. “Marriage.”

Fenrys was cackling, and when Rowan turned to Aelin for reassurance, his wife’s reaction wasn’t much different. She was wheezing, with both hands resting on her knees while Rowan frowned at her. A gentle rub between his eyebrows and a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose were quick to soothe his indignation, though. Despite Fenrys’ manwhore reputation, he has always respected his friends’ relationships, and they all knew he only hit on Aelin to tease Rowan. Still, her husband took the bait every time.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“I won the game.” Rowan beamed, proud of himself.

Aelin chuckled, entertained by Drunk Buzzard. “And that’s why you’re here?”

“Oh. We need to test Fenrys.”

“And I’m waiting for Ellie,” Lorcan said, blinking after being woken up from his nap.

Elide was with a patient now, but Aelin wasn’t going to say anything. Letting Lorcan suffer for a while was always the best option.

“What are we testing Fenrys for?”

Rowan’s face looked somber when he said, “Everything.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Okay... Could you enlighten me?”

Like it was obvious, he sighed, exasperated. “Syphilis, HIV, chlamydia—“

“STDs, then.”

Rowan nodded, and Fenrys grinned.

“Is there a particular reason we’re doing all these tests?”

Her husband’s eyebrows went up. “It’s Fenrys!”

Fenrys was still grinning. “It’s me!”

“He was telling me stories,” Rowan continued, “Concerning stories.”

Aelin chuckled. “Okay, then.” And looked around. “Where’s Lorcan?”

The other two seemed as confused as she was with Lorcan’s disappearance, but they decided to let go. A brute that size couldn’t be hard to find.

After requesting Fenrys’ blood tests, Aelin went to do some other tasks before her shift ended. It wouldn’t take long, so she’d be able to drive them home.

When she was on her way to see a patient, she noticed one of the rooms had the door opened, and Aelin could make out a few words coming from inside.

Sir, we need this room for—

And a lot of grumbles coming from the other person.

Aelin entered the room to see what was going on, and it turns out Lorcan Salvaterre was sleeping on a very tiny cot, and the security officer was trying to convince him to get up so a real patient could have it.

Looking at the security’s exasperated expression, Aelin knew what to do. She hated it came to such drastic measures, but it had to be done.

“Don’t worry, I’m paging Elide.”

Lorcan finally turned to her, eyes half-closed. “Where’s Ellie?”

˜˜

After making sure his friends were taken care of, Rowan was finally home with his wife. Apart from the awkward part where Aelin had to tell Fenrys he had genital herpes, everything went smoothly. Fenrys pretended to be shocked while Aelin pretended to not know about that beforehand. They had no idea Rowan gossiped everything to his wife after boys’ night, and thankfully she helped him keep up the ruse.

He was waiting for Aelin after a hot shower when she appeared before him wearing nothing but one of his shirts. The moment she laid down by his side, Rowan didn’t spare a second before kissing her.

“Buzzard.” She moaned when his mouth went to her neck. “I’m so tired.”

“But you love morning sex.”

“When I’ve slept the night before,” Aelin said while softly chuckling.

Rowan left his spot on her neck and frowned in mock-indignation. She smiled at him, and he pecked her lips before tucking her in. Teenage Rowan would be disgusted to discover his future self finds having sex equally as satisfying as falling asleep spooning his wife as he smelled her lavender scented hair, but he wouldn’t have it in any other way.

However, Aelin soon started to grind herself against his erection. The tease.

He groaned. “Fireheart, are you sure?”

Going back to his previous spot on her neck, her whimper was response enough until his hand sneaked between her thighs, making her grind against his fingers.

“Greedy much?”

“I need you inside me,” she rasped.

Rowan kissed her lips once more until he grabbed the first condom he could reach, almost tumbling over himself with anticipation. Aelin used that moment to take off the shirt, and he gave attention to her breasts while putting protection on with his remaining hand.

Leaning back a little to adjust themselves, Rowan was almost set when his wife interrupted him.

“Buzzard, why is your dick glowing?”

“Thanks, babe.” Rowan did appreciate his own dick. He was glad his wife felt the same.

Chuckling, Aelin rested her head on his shoulder. “No, I mean...” The chuckles became a full laughter. “Honey.” She was cackling now, and Rowan’s shoulders tensed. Maybe this wasn’t an appreciative comment after all.

Wheezing, she managed to say, “Babe, your dick is literally glowing.”

When Rowan looked down, he noticed that his wife was right. His penis was neon green, shining like a lightsaber. Just like his friend described.

He was going to kill Fenrys.

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#rowan week #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #the cadre #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelinscourt

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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

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“call me when you get home” (b.b)

@the-chocolate-bunny “call me when you get home” over a YEAR AGO. anyway, (incoherent screaming at myself) here it is,,, hahaha. 2.8k words of a lil fluffy first date with ol’ Bucko. 🧡🧡🧡 Thanks for reading!

[28 WAYS Masterlist // Prompts here & here]

When Sam told him what he’d be doing on Saturday evening, Bucky groaned so loudly the couch vibrated.

Come on, man, you really giving up on dating?

He wanted to say yes, Wilson, fuck off. But Bucky only groaned again and reminded Sam that he’s not ready to date. Too busy. Too cranky. Scary robot arm. Last date went terrible and Bucky doesn’t even remember how to talk to a woman unless he’s trying to de-escalate a hostage situation.

Sam couldn’t be deterred. Dude, that was like, a year ago. Just try one time--Sharon’s friend, from work—remember her, Barnes? Steve, you know her. Pretty, funny, real sweet. She already agreed to it, she’s gonna meet you there at 7. Thank me later.

Bucky rummaged through his mind for pretty, funny, real sweet and came up empty. Steve pretended to remember—he didn’t—can’t remember anyone’s face but Sharon Carter’s, the lovestruck idiot—but if she was Sharon’s friend, then Bucky wasn’t allowed to stand her up. So, 7. Saturday. Date.

Fuck.

He’s sure he’s done all the right things: laundered his clothes, showered, brushed his hair, shaved, even.

Sam said to get flowers and hold the door. Make eye contact, share a dessert, pay for dinner, give the girl your jacket and be on the left side of the sidewalk. Follow the script and he’s home free and looking at another date in possibly a week or so— or if he’s lucky, Bucky scoffs internally, no date at all.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have showered.

Either way, he’s off to an awful start because the traffic was worse than anticipated and the taxi got a flat so and he had to walk the last five blocks. It’s 7:40 and he’s barely through the door, the box of chocolates in the crook of his elbow probably melted.

All the flowers looked ugly, Sam. It was either chocolates or a balloon and Bucky’s not It the Clown, so… chocolates it was for the lucky lady.

Bucky scans the room and groans— possibly his default sound for anything now. Leave it to Wilson to suggest this kind of restaurant—it’s all candles and floral centerpieces. There’s even a live orchestra in the corner. He’s severely underdressed.

The hostess taps her pen, “Sir, do you have a reservation?”

Oh. Shit.

He looks over her head, hopeful at a row of empty tables and booths. “Can’t I just, get put on a list or something? It’s two people. She might—already be here.” He surveys again, dodges the hostess trying to block his view, but can’t see anyone sitting alone.

Sam told him your hair color, described the little freckle above your eyebrow, something about your face being symmetrical and how sweet your smile was— but that could be anybody. People’s faces are naturally symmetrical, aren’t they? And Bucky certainly can’t make out a freckle from this distance.

“No sir, we’re booked all night—”

“Hey!” A hand unexpectedly lands on his arm. “Bucky! Oh my god. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Bucky follows the hand to its wrist, to its arm, to its shoulder, collar, neck, finally, then, to its owner.

He remembers you now. A couple of times—dropping off packages at the compound, dossiers and flash drives, saying hello and goodbye but not much of anything else.

Your mouth hangs open tonight, sucking in deep breaths, baby hairs slick on your forehead. 7:45 and you’re off to an awful start, too.

“Tried to get a coffee on the way—spilled it—” a gesture to your blouse and the offending blotch glares deep brown from sky blue cotton. “Ran into a kid on a bicycle, made him fall. Scraped his knee. You wouldn’t believe how long a mother can yell until you accidentally tip over her kid--” You pause, looking at the hostess’ annoyance, then at Bucky’s bewildered face, and put two and two together.

“Ma’am, we’re booked all night.” The hostess’ pen taps after each word in emphasis.

You narrow your eyes and Bucky defensively reels back, expecting you might start yelling at him for forgetting to reserve ahead of time until you shake your head.

Sharon Carter is a Cotillion debutante and private nearly to a fault— she speaks carefully, keeps everything close to the vest, old-school formalities when it comes to courtship. So, when Sam said Sharon’s friend, Bucky expected someone similar. When he stepped into this extravagant restaurant severely underdressed, he expected someone similar.

Symmetrical faced, sweet smiled, freckled somewhere, but demure, maybe. Prim and proper.

But then—you groan, loud and annoyed, and ask:

“Do you like burgers? Do you mind the grease?”

And god, Bucky thinks. God bless Sharon Carter.

Hell, it’s a mess.

There are tears rolling down your cheeks. Bursts of gasping breaths, wheezing in-between shrill noises. The coffee stain on your shirt found a good friend in a diagonal line of bright yellow egg yolk and you’re laughing so hard people are starting to stare.

The burger you’d gotten—medium rare, double meat, bacon, fried egg, all toppings between—has completely fallen apart in a splat back onto your plate. The first bite was tragic—right into the yolk and it popped like a water balloon all over your chest.

He fumbles for napkins—for cold water? But you wave his worries away, licking your fingers before diving in to deconstruct your food.

“Sorry—I promise I have my shit together.” Another giggle, “Not making a very good first date impression. I hope you like the place, at least?”

“Yeah,” he grins, “I do. And, uh, I think you’re doin’ great.”

The words slip out before he can catch them and Sam’s slew of dating advice comes hitting him like a ton of too-late bricks. Keep it mysterious, Barnes. But what else should he say, he’s having loads more fun at this diner that smells like a thousand packs of stale cigarettes than he would have at that uppity potpourri scented Italian restaurant serving entrees the size of his thumb.

Around a mouthful of tater tots, you thank him, and then you take a breath, and he can literally see you winding up for another enormous bite.

“Sorry,” you pause sheepishly, “I had a really busy day at work—skipped lunch on accident.” You take the enormous bite he saw coming, and then, “Also doesn’t help—mm—I’m a nervous talker.”

Bucky chews on a fry and slurps his soda, entirely forgetting his courtship manners. “Nervous ‘bout what?”

“Aw, c’mon…” you roll your eyes emphatically as Bucky tilts into his straw. Another slow sip with his mouth around the plastic and you swallow a noisy gulp of tomato, “Come on.”

“What?”

The burger gets placed back on its wax paper, now small enough to return to its prior state, you rearrange it carefully on the plastic lattice bowl, staring at him the entire time.

A disbelieving scoff leads, “Imagine this, Sharon comes sashaying into my office—okay, not sashay, march—marching into my office and says are you interested in going on a date Friday?” You wiggle your head, tilt your head down and purse your lips staunchly. A pretend flip of hair over your shoulder and you whisper, “She’s perfect; this is what perfect women do, trust me.”

Bucky suppresses a grin at the sight. Steve would be jumping to defend her honor if he were here.

“She says, I know your last few weren’t the best… but this one-- And I’m drowning in paperwork, okay? Drowning. I’m stamping files, eating goldfish crackers, nodding along—anything to get her out of my office—”

“So you agreed…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…to go on a date…” he mulls it over, “… to shut her up?”

“Hell yes.” And then, “Oh!” You start shaking your head wildly, “No. No, no, no. No, not like that—I told you I’m a nervous talker—I didn’t know it was you until about fifteen minutes before I left the house! I would have never said yes if I knew it was you.”

Bucky frowns at that, but then you come full circle, rolling your eyes another time. A mustard-smudged hand points from the top of Bucky’s head down to his chest and back up again.

“Have I said ‘c’mon’ yet?”

“Once or twice.”

“Well, yeah. Come on. You’re—please don’t make me say it.”

He looks on, not quite sure what you’re going to say at all. It’s a toss-up between “a legend”, “an Avenger”, and “a murderer”. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you pop a French-fry into your mouth and mundanely announce, “Bucky, you’re handsome.”

He blinks.

You blink.

He blinks again.

“No, listen,” you urge, “You’re obscenely good-looking.”

His face is so hot that he thinks someone must have thrown a fire into him. Maybe he would have preferred being called a murderer?

“Is it some kind of superhero requirement, you know? Before you get green-lighted to save the world, you’ve gotta win America’s Next Top Model. Or in your case, an international season of ANTM takes … Soviet Russia?”

The reference is lost on him, but he gets the point well enough.

You place your hand in front of him like a running marquee, “I can see it now. Tyra Banks announcing, James Buchanan Bucky Barnes. Eyes: blue; hair: brown; height—” a pause as you consider his posture before continuing, shockingly precise.

“6 feet; 245 pounds; measurements: 42 chest, 33 waist; bicep circumference: 17 and a half inches.”

Bucky crosses his arms in embarrassment, and then uncrosses them because he’s thinking too closely about his biceps now. “Didn’t read that in a museum. You get it from just looking— look away, damn it.”

You quickly do, trying to suppress a grin and failing miserably. Bucky is too, shifting in his seat, opening his mouth to say something and then unable to get anything out other than a disoriented and amused, “Shit.”

Sam would never let Bucky live down that his first date in six months eyefucked him well enough to get his bicep measurement. The jokes would be endless. He can practically hear cackling in his ear.

A beat passes and he tries again, now at the end of the meal and the stain on your blouse starting to sink in and spread, heavy enough to dip toward the skin beneath. “Do you want to take your shirt off?”

You choke on soda and add another splatter down your chest, turning into a proper Jackson Pollock canvas.

“You can wear my jacket,” he clarifies. “Give it back next time. I mean, if you…” He frowns. “Uh. Um.”

Sam’s putting up tallies in Bucky’s head. Another scratch indicating he’s forgoing the mystery, which should have been easy for him since he’s an international assassin with at least one dead president under his belt.

“Of course, Bucky, I’d like that,” you say, saving him for tripping up over any more words, smiling slow and shaky. Different than the impish grins and all-teeth laughing, still lovely— but just, different. Like you’re pinching down a too-sweet thought about him with the corners of your mouth. It goes big and again when you tack on, “And I won’t even eyefuck you next time.”

It’s his turn to choke, sputtering as he blushes. 6 feet, 245 pounds, 17-inch circumference biceps, reformed murderer going napalm hot under a pretty girl’s eyes. Jesus wept, he really is hopeless.

He can’t believe it’s past midnight already, or that the two of you walked the length of Central Park and then looped back around about two more times.

You changed out of your shirt after dinner, ducking from the diner’s restroom bashfully, your old blouse in a crumple inside his pocket. His jacket hung a bit loose, but zipped up all the way and it was a good enough cover for a while.

The night cooled enough to where you weren’t too hot, and he wasn’t too cold, and neither of you seemed ready to leave just yet. Central Park was a perfect place to dodge the city’s unavoidable crowd and occasional sewage gust, so the two of you wandered aimlessly, stopping here and there to rest, even splitting the liquefied chocolates on a bench.

You get smudges of it on your cheek and Bucky figures it’s just a personality trait at this point. He laughs when you stick your tongue out, trying to find exactly where it is before giving up and asking him to thumb it off.

He shoves his hands in his pocket afterwards, thumb jammed inside his fist like a souvenir, keeping it there the rest of the walk, all the way up to the iron gate of your apartment complex before he wonders if he should have been trying to hold your hand instead.

Maybe not. It was only the first date, after all.

By the pin pad, you rock back and forth on your feet. “Thanks for dinner,” you say, looking up at him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And the chocolates.” A beat passes. “And the walk… and jacket, too. It’s really nice… comfortable and, uh, smells... good. Like, motor oil and… a nice body wash and… trees.” You make a nauseated face and close your eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose uncomfortably as Bucky looks on.

Oh, he realizes. You must be nervous.

Oh, he realizes. Should he kiss you?

He can’t remember if Sam mentioned this or not. Does mystery assume no kissing? Is it too soon for that? He thinks he must have kissed a few first dates in the past, but he’s not really sure if it’s too bold now. He’s really does start to sweat. Bullets.

The easy conversation and laughter from the past two hours is nowhere to be found. Bucky goes mute and you start fiddling with your phone, clearing your throat loudly and then pointing to the rectangular outline in his pocket.

He gives you his number immediately, tumbling over the area code and string of digits, so empty in his brain that when it vibrates in his grip after you text him, he almost jumps.

“Call me when you get home?” Your voice is small and hopeful, and you look like you’re biting your cheek.

“Sure,” he replies dumbly. You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before turning and unlocking the gate. One final long look at him, his face, his mouth, his fingers, and you tug on his pinky shyly before heading through and toward your door.

Bucky reflexively makes a fist, entire limb tingling up to his elbow, the tiny gesture burrowing into his chest. Suddenly, he forgets entirely the modesty of first dates. He steps out of his body for a minute, staring at his still cupped palm like he’s holding a flame.

Rules be damned.

He taps the green icon next to your name, watching you suddenly pause a few meters away.

“Hey!” he blurts too-eagerly when you pick up, confused and turning to find him still where you left him on the other side. “Sam said I should wait to call. At least a day.”

“Oh yeah…?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky nods, “Said it’s a bad look—guy being too excited. Gotta—I don’t know. Make the girl anticipate a little. Keep her interested.”

You retrace your steps, walking back, “What if the girl’s already interested?”

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, warmed up. “Not a bad look?”

“No. You look good to me.” Eyes travel up and down, peeking through diamond shapes of the iron gate, “Sharon told me something similar, since we’re on the subject of what’s good or bad.”

“What’s that?”

It should feel stupid that he’s been holding a phone call with someone who’s barely two feet away from him. Inches now, and you step slow, nose almost up against the frame. A metal clank and the gate slowly unlatches, opening up. You tuck the device into your back pocket, and Bucky does the same, barely registering the disconnecting click, heart racing with adrenaline.

Then, you smile.

Fuck. That smile.

“Said it’s not good to kiss on the first date.”

Mischievously, you lean in, touch him soft on the lips and every beat of his pulse seems to be reaching out for the sweet breath in your mouth. “And I shouldn’t invite you inside, but we both seem to be … not good… at following dating decorum, so…” Your eyes light up teasingly, “You wanna come…in?”

Bucky makes a noise like a whimper. Wow. International assassin with a Kennedy under his belt and it’s a dirty joke that does him in.

You kiss him again, longer than the last, giggling softly and tugging on his bottom lip like you could pull his entire body toward you with just that. “I’m sure we could find a few more first date rules to break.”

“Yeah,” he says, ducking for another one, lips increasingly impatient. “I’m… in.”

You pull away with a laugh, yanking on his shirt, grabbing his hand. As Bucky’s towed along, he can’t help but think of two things:

First, god bless Sharon Carter.

And second… well, maybe he will thank Wilson for setting him up, after all.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff #marvel #fanfiction #mcu #reader insert #28 WAYS

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shoutogepi · 4 years ago

Text

Spring Pollen

Takami Keigo

word count : 5.0k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]

genre : edging, gagging (glove use), sex pollen, public sex

bio: You and your coworker Hawks are caught off guard by a villain’s naughty quirk while on the middle of patrol.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “sex pollen” slot ;) also pls go soft on me if this is rough as it’s my first hawks fic <3 TT

tags : @hawks-senseis @queensynderella @knifeewifee @prismaroyal

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Working beside the number two hero had its ups and downs. For one, you were insanely attracted to him, and you absolutely refused to admit it— to him, yourself, really anyone who asked. Not that it came up in conversation often, of course. You made sure of that.

The blonde was known for his go-with-the-flow, playful attitude, and you were not discluded from such a privilege, despite your many complaints. Deep down, you didn’t really mind his flirtatious behavior. Being a hero, even if you were only a sidekick at the moment, was tiring work. You did not have much time for yourself, let alone time to find men who you could flirt with or even go on dates with. Or even find a fuck buddy.

God, it had been so long since you last received affection from a man. Work was your entire life now, and while you found comfort in knowing you were changing the world for the better— cleaning away the stain of evil on your city— you found yourself feeling lonely when you would return to your empty apartment each night.

So perhaps Hawks’ borderline suggestive comments were nice, welcome even. Not that you would ever tell him that. You would rather die than live with knowing he was privy to your thoughts; the mortification would simply be too much for you.

Little did you know, there was much desire and intention behind his seemingly meaningless flirting— for he, too, found you more than attractive. A walking, talking, gorgeous and independent woman who apparently wanted nothing to do with him— you were more than enough to catch his eye. But alas, you were years younger than the already-youthful hero himself, and you made it very clear to him that you did not want to do anything that could jeopardize your career at the agency the two of you were slaves to.

So the attraction went unspoken between the pair of you. Hawks would make a comment just a little too cheeky and you would roll your eyes or swat at him, and that would be the end of it. It would go on and on like this for months, and before you knew it, it had been almost a year of supporting the ever-popular winged hero. And everything was fine and good…

Until the red string on fate had to show its ugly face. And everything as you knew it was turned upside down on the head— the tall, prison-like walls you’d constructed to keep your feelings locked away all came tumbling down, right before your very eyes.

It had been a rather uneventful day of hero work, if you could recall correctly. Hawks had commented on your winged eyeliner that morning, saying how it made your eyes sparkle and give you an “avian edge”, which he found highly commendable. You had brushed him off, as usual, and the two of you had taken off to start your patrol, much like any other morning.

The sun was high in the sky, hanging cheerfully over the skyscrapers of the bustling city. The spring heat had not yet scorched the asphalt of the winding roads, a cool breeze tickling your skin as you walked beside the blonde hero. His large, scarlet wings were relaxed behind his shoulder blades, the very tips of his feathers brushing against your waist as you were pressed close to him on the busy sidewalk. It was all rather ordinary, looking back at it— you had just thrown away the wrappings from your on-the-go breakfast, feeling strengthened enough to take on whatever the day could possibly throw at you, when she appeared from what seemed like nowhere.

Hawks sprang into action immediately, recognizing the wicked glint in her eye much sooner than you. You were on a dull sideroad, almost an alleyway to be honest— a small street tucked away in the midst of the hasty city, sandwiched behind a few large buildings and the backs of restaurants. It was really the perfect place for a crime to occur, for there were few passerbys and no security cameras.

In just an instant, the number two hero was on his ass, nearly hacking up a lung as the offender sprayed a noxious cloud of pink spores directly into his face. The woman sported a vicious grin as she turned to you, and though Hawks tried his best to warn you of her attack, he found he could not speak— instead crumpling over to hold his stomach as his body seized with violent coughs. Just like that, you had fallen victim to her as well, your knees folding beneath you as your mind clouded over in a haze. You didn’t even register Hawks throwing her into the brick wall behind you, your brian too foggy to recognize anything before you. He was struggling to cuff the woman when he first began to sweat, his body beginning to tremble first in his chest, then spreading to his limbs and rushing into his veins, like the venom from a deadly serpent.

Your body felt hot— god, so hot— it was like liquid fire had been poured into your bloodstream, every cell of your body igniting into an all-consuming inferno. Sweat began to bead along your temple, the valley between your breasts, and the backs of your knees. You slumped onto the concrete beneath you, clammy palms scraping the rough pavement as you gasped for breath. But with each intake the symptoms only seemed to worsen, limbs growing weak and an intense pressure forming in your stomach, like an intruder attempting to burst through a barricaded door.

Hawks was busy fighting his own internal battle— the same feelings bubbling up inside of him as he clicked the quirk-canceling cuffs onto the assailant’s wrists, perhaps a notch or two too tight. He could feel himself coming to life underneath his trousers, fanning the growing fire in the pit of his stomach. “What did you do to us?” he bellowed, a mix between a groan and a growl. The tip of a ruby feather pointed itself at the base of her throat, a slight tremor shaking through the quill as his knees began to tremble.

The woman only laughed, amused by his blatant discomfort. Her eyes traveled over to your figure, curled into a tight ball on the ground. Hawks followed her gaze, distress panging through him as he realized the pained expression twisting your face.

“Reverse it,” he snarled, fists seizing the front of her shirt and pulling her body to sit upright.

But the villain only smirked, her busted lip not seeming to bother her as her eyes twinkled with malice. “Sorry, can’t do that,” she chuckled, though it came out sounding more like a wheeze, “no takesies-backsies.”

Hawks bared his teeth at her, his ferality getting the better of him as he slammed her against the brick wall another time. Her eyes fell closed and her body went limp, signalling she was out of commission for at least the time being.

“Damn it,” he groaned as her clothes slipped from his fingers, the digits opting to push into his wild tawny locks instead. Whatever quirk this woman had used on him was working too fast, and its effects were too strong. His cock was rock hard, straining against the confining material of his pants, and his body was becoming much too strung out from restraining his amplifying desire.

Chills rolled down his spine as you called out to him, your voice breathy and rough. His gloved hands clamped into fists as he shut his eyes, praying to whatever god there was to lend him the strength necessary to keep himself from tackling you and ripping off your clothes. He had never felt so desperate for you before— never had he needed to touch and taste every inch of you like he did right now. Whatever longing he had harbored for you before this morning was nothing in comparison to the emotions clobbering his sense of self-control at the moment— god, if you even called out for him one more time, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from taking you, right here and now.

Little did he know, that was the one thing you wanted— needed, even— more than anything.

Your arms were crossed atop your chest, your knees tucking in to bend in front of them as you literally held yourself together. You could feel yourself leaking from between your legs, pussy twitching and itchy for any kind of attention you could get. “P-Please, Keigo,” you whimpered, your hands slowly trailing down your biceps, a palm clutching your own breast, thumb rubbing over the stiff nipple that stood out from beneath your hero suit.

Hawks couldn’t stand still for another second— the sound of his name from your lips too arousing, too intimate— he was on his knees before you in a flash. Both of you moaned as his lips slotted over yours, not a moment to spare as your body unfurled and wrapped around his frame, pulling him flush against yourself. His tongue pushed into your mouth, the tip twirling with yours and gliding against the back of your teeth.

Lost in the pleasure of his mouth on yours, your hands wandered over his shoulders, his chest, one taking root in his silky, fine hair. You could smell his aftershave wafting off his cheeks, the stubble on his chin tickling you as he began to kiss and nip at your jaw. He was insatiable, and so were you— your hands groping and wandering all over each other. Neither of you could get enough.

You couldn’t believe that this was really happening, in the middle of this secluded, public alleyway, during your patrol as heroes— figures that the citizens of your city looked up to, no less. Yet you couldn’t find a shit to give, and Hawks had abandoned all sense of rationality the moment you dared to cry out for him. He didn’t seem to mind the public setting, for he didn’t harbor a shred of hesitance as he swatted your hand away from your chest. His own palm squeezed your breast as he suckled on your throat, making his first of many marks that would grace your skin.

It wasn’t long before he had you against the brick wall, your body snug between his firm torso and the roughness of the bricks at your back. His face trailed further south, his absence at your neck leaving your saliva-covered skin to prickle with cold. But you weren’t left pining for more long— his teeth gripping onto your nipple through your shirt, kissing and sucking at your covered chest as his hands careened down your waist, cupping your ass and lifting you off your feet just enough for your toes to drag across the pavement.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Hawks sunk to his knees, folding your legs over his shoulders and pressing his face into the apex between your thighs. His strong arms flexed as he held you up against the wall, your legs twitching as he pressed a line of kisses into your skin. Somehow you managed to wriggle out of your bottoms, your soaked panties now on full display for the winged hero, who only groaned at the sight before his tongue began to lather at the front of the material, right over your aching slit.

You felt itchy, itchier than you’d ever been before, your cunt pulsing and squeezing around nothing as you tried to wiggle your hips closer to his mouth. “H-Hawks,” you gasped as his teeth pinched the cloth, pulling it back and letting go, just to watch it snap against your drooling center.

“No, no, little bird,” he murmured sinisterly, taking a second to rub his nose along your slit, smirking at the clearly visible line of wetness that had soaked through the material. The teasing was torture, your body screaming for him to touch you again, for even more this time.

You cut him off, too impatient for his games. “Please touch me,” you begged, breath ragged in your chest.

Golden eyes turned to slits as he grit his teeth, fighting himself not to just whip out his cock and thrust into you right then and there. “If you’re gonna beg, do it properly. I wanna hear my name, dove.”

You couldn’t handle another second of agony; everything felt like it was on fire, every inch of you ready to be used, destroyed at his disposal. “Please fuck me— I— please Keigo, I need you so bad, I can’t stand it anymore!”

Hawks grinned as he ripped your panties off your body, the splitting of the seams shocking you into looking down at him. If anything, the ferocious action only turned you on even more than before, and you screamed out as his tongue immediately wove into your tight little hole. Your entire body shook as his hot muscle slithered in and out of you, alternating between tracing your entrance and rubbing against your slick, gummy walls.

There was nothing you could do but bask in the euphoria he was giving you, your jaw falling open as his tongue retracted and he wrapped his lips around your clit instead. Your eyes slammed shut, moans escaping you as your fingers delved into those bronze locks, fisting them as you ground against his face. His chin rubbed against your weeping entrance, and Hawks found himself wishing he had two tongues, so he could lap up the delicious slick that poured out of your gushing hole.

But it stopped all too soon, a sob choking out of you when he stopped satiating you with his mouth. His hand guided one of your thighs off his shoulder, placing your foot on the pavement and giving your shaking limb an encouraging squeeze before he took his hand away. His slanted eyes locked with yours as he brought his hand to his mouth, teeth securing the edge of his glove and ripping the accessory off, revealing his long, slender fingers to your lustful gaze. The hero then crumpled the leather into a tight ball, extending his arm up to your face and pressing it against your lips.

“Can’t have my dove making too much noise now, can I?” he mumbled, a feathered brow quirking up to give him a classic, mischievous look. “Too noisy and we’ll have to cut our fun short.”

At that you shyly opened your mouth, allowing him to press the glove past your lips. Once it was secure, his thumb brushed over your cheek as he grinned, his fingers then sliding down to pinch at your nipples. You moaned at the sensation, the leather glove in your mouth muffling the noise almost completely.

Hawks’ smile only broadened at that, leaning forward to take your clit into his mouth again. Your hips bucked against him, the thigh over his shoulder curling tighter and pressing him closer to you. It felt good— so incredibly good to have his tongue entertaining your pearl of nerves, lathering and swirling it, even using his teeth to graze against it. Your head fell back onto the wall behind you, eyelids fluttering shut as his fingers around your leg dug into your flesh, his other hand squishing at your chest before trailing down your waist, then down your thigh.

Suddenly his fingers were toying with your entrance, your slick stringing as he spread his fingers, golden gaze eagerly drinking up the sight of your arousal. Oh, how he’d longed for the day he could finally do this to his sweet little sidekick— to be able to lick and kiss and nip at your most sensitive parts, only to hear you moan and whine his name, gasping for more. It was even better that his glove was shoved into your mouth, muting your saccharine voice just enough so that no one else could hear you— your noises of pleasure were his and only his to hear, to soak up, and indulge in.

You cried out as two digits slipped inside of you, your wetness never having been so overt in your life. The extra slick dripped down the tops of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly slobbering for the man currently knelt between your legs. Your velvet walls sucked his fingers deeper inside, milking them as your cunt clenched uncontrollably, his tongue relentlessly lashing against your swollen clit. Hawks’ fingers pumped into you steadily, sheathing and pulling out just the first two knuckles into your waiting hole time and time again. The movements initially were slow, as if testing the waters. But after a few exploratory thrusts, he pushed the digits inside of you as far as he could, curling them toward himself and prodding your spongy walls.

He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop— you tasted too damn delicious, and his cock was leaking into his briefs at the premise of being inside you, your stifled sounds only adding fuel to the fire in his stomach. Your body was beginning to show signs of near-orgasm, and it only made him more excited to see you so reactive for him. Your eyes were shut tight, fingers pulling on his golden tresses so tightly he could feel his mind practically spinning. And your legs were trembling, almost so badly that he wondered if you were going to collapse on top of him at any moment.

You whimpered as his hand switched angles, the very tips of his fingers rubbing right against the most sensitive spot inside of you. Hawks noticed your body twitch, even though you tried your best to keep your reaction a secret to him, ashamed to already be so close to cumming. But the winged hero was feeling anything but shame— pressing his fingers into that spot again and again, savoring how your cries became louder underneath his glove in your mouth, your limbs quivering against his skin. You tried to warn him, your thigh squeezing tight around his shoulder, your fingers lacing even tighter into his hair, spine stiffening.

Hawks seemed to know what was coming, for his fingers began flicking back and forth inside of you, stimulating that soft, spongy spot that made stars blur at the corners of your vision. Your toes curled tight inside your boots, tears pooling between your eyelashes, your body feeling as though it was trapped inside an elevator surging toward the thousandth floor of a skyscraper. The tension was building, building, oh it was so close— you could practically see the heavenly, orgasmic light shining just before you, and then—

He pulled back.

Had his glove not been occupying your mouth, your whine of anguish would have echoed off the stone walls of the alleyway, your body slumping into his arms in complete dejection. Your brows were furrowed in torment, wondering how in the world Hawks had the strength to pull away from you when you were in such a state— you were practically imploring for his attention, body so hot and willing that you’d let him do anything he could possibly want to you.

You were too lost mourning the lost orgasm to notice Hawks haphazardly shoving his pants down, pulling his black, tight shirt halfway up his abs. His cock sprang up from its confines, his eyes just slits as he focused his gaze on your dripping cunt, still twitching in misery from his teasing torture. You only realized you were being maneuvered once it was too late— he had dropped the leg that had previously rested on his shoulder, instead taking the other and pushing it to press up against the wall, his fingers digging into your thigh. He was upright now, teeth taking the tip of your ear hostage as he rutted his heavy cock against your saturated slit.

Fresh waves of lust rippled through your body, your bones turning cold with white-hot anticipation. You could feel everything— his member sliding against your entrance, gliding against you from head to base, even the veins decorating his shaft as they brushed against your aching core.

Hawks’ breath was heavy in your ear, but that only made you want him more. It was the only physical sign that he was just as affected as you; the soft groan falling from his lips as you bucked against him was proof enough of that. Yet somehow he staved off from thrusting into you, despite your pussy coating his whole length in your slippery love syrup.

You tried to complain, but the glove between your lips jumbled any words into a muted mess.

He seemed to be amused by your efforts, his honey gaze seizing yours. “If I take that out for you, do you promise you’ll be a good little dove for me? Can’t have you singing too loud, alright?” His words were music to your ears, and you quickly nodded your head, eager to prove yourself to him. But he didn’t move a muscle; only his tongue wandered out to swipe across his bottom lip, which then disappeared between his teeth. His eyes darted south, and before yours could follow suit, he pushed inside you to the hilt.

You screamed as he forced your elastic walls to stretch around him, the thickness of his cock taking you by surprise. Intense pleasure burst into your body as he pulled out halfway, sheathing himself back inside almost immediately. Hawks’ eyes were shut tight, savoring the way your cunt hugged him so perfectly. Already you were milking him, and he knew there was no way he could last.

It didn’t matter, really, because the instant his hand slid down your pelvis and his fingers began to toy with your clit, you were gone. Instantly that intense pressure built just like it had before, for a split second it was all you could feel. And then you were crashing through your orgasm, his name the only thing on your brain. You called it out again and again, ecstasy zipping through your veins and toward the intense heat that the villain’s quirk had produced. The sensations clashed in a fiery explosion, your entire body straining as you did your best to handle the pleasure, your pussy wringing tight around Hawks’ cock.

Hawks gasped, his head falling to your shoulder at the intensity— at the snugness of your cunt like a vice around him, at the sound of your muffled cries for him, at the way your body trembled in his hands. He didn’t wait long, though, for after the initial shock of your orgasm arriving, his hips began to ruthlessly smack against yours. His grip was now tight on your body, fingernails digging little crescents into the skin of your thigh and your asscheek, which he pulled back to slide himself even deeper inside of you.

Your head smacked against the brick as it fell backwards, the pleasure flowing endlessly through your entire body. It was only then that Hawks bothered to take his glove from between your lips, and you immediately gasped for the sweet rush of air that filled your mouth. Small noises of content slithered out of you with every crash of his hips against you, impossible for you to silence the constant “hah” and “yes”’es. Not that Hawks seemed to really mind— in fact, he was eating up every sweet noise that left your throat, cherishing the cute, dazed look on your face as he pummeled your tight little cunt with his fat cock.

It was wrong to be this attracted to his sidekick, he knew. But maybe that was why it felt so fucking good, too— the forbidden, unspoken attraction that hung between the pair of you like a heavy shadow whenever you were together. The line had been crossed, and god, was the grass greener on the other side. If this was what being with you felt like, he didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t— he’d tasted your sweet ambrosia and he could never push you away again. You were pouring life into him as you took his cock so perfectly, and he could feel nothing but euphoria as he slammed your cunt onto himself again and again.

His release was building, but goddamn it, he was gonna hold out for as long as he could. He was gonna make you feel as good as he possibly could, and hopefully it was something that could mirror the intense bliss that you were giving him. From the way your irises rolled back in your skull, your nails gripping into his muscles tightly as your jaw hung ajar, his name slipping through your lips every other thrust— he guessed he was doing a pretty good job.

Meanwhile your brain was nearly liquefying in your skull, the aftershocks of your orgasm still stinging your bones with pleasure. Hawks never let you come down from your high, and he was doing a damn good job at keeping you on cloud nine— his hand holding up your thigh so he had a better angle to continue drilling into that sweet, springy spot inside of you. His wings began to flutter and stretch behind him, flapping gently with each swing of his hips. It felt so good that you could barely keep yourself from screaming for him, from letting the entire city know that it was him who was fucking you so good.

“K-Keigo,” you choked, a tear sliding down your cheek. Hawks moaned at the sound of his name on your voice, leaning forward to lick up the saline bead before he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, a shocking contrast to how hard he was pounding into you just a short distance south. “Feels so— agh! fuck— good, oh my goddd.”

Hawks nipped at your throat, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became more shallow, his pace beginning to falter. “You like my cock, dove?” he growled, chest heaving as that intense pressure started to build in his stomach. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ wet for me— T-Tight! Hah, shit— s’too fuckin’ good baby.”

You could only moan at his words, cunt clenching down on him on its own accord. Hawks gasped at the feeling, teeth sinking into your throat as the heat of the quirk clashed with the heightened tension in his abdomen. The collision of the two sensations proved to be too much for the winged hero to handle, a groan rumbling his throat as he painted your insides white with ribbons of cum, his wings unfurling and each individual feather quivering in sheer ecstasy. His body shook, muscles taut as he emptied himself into your dripping cunt, arms wrapping tight around your waist as he gasped for breath.

The heat from your bodies began to dwindle, the villain’s quirk exiting your systems and rendering the two of you boneless, breathless, and satisfied like never before. It suddenly dawned on you that you were in the middle of an alleyway, the cool spring breeze touseling Hawks’ blonde hair before your eyes. He was still wrapped around you, trying to catch his breath as his cock continued to throb against your silken walls. The pair of you stood still against the brick wall, the fact that you’d just crossed such a serious line with your closest coworker setting in. There was a sense of dread that began to bloom in your chest, your suppressed feelings for the hero unleashed and thriving, now more than ever.

Before you could overthink for another second, Hawks pulled back, warm golden eyes peering into yours. “I gotta say, dove,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your skin, “that was definitely the best quirk I’ve ever been hit with on the job.”

You chuckled at that, the weight of the situation instantly lightening up as you gave him a slow nod of agreement. Your heart began to beat quickly as you gathered the courage to take it a step further than his confession. “I’m glad it was with you,” you replied quietly, meekly averting your gaze to the side.

Hawks hummed, thumbing over your cheek again as a smile rose to his lips. He pressed his mouth to yours again, fingers creeping into your hair as he pulled your face close to his. This kiss was unlike any you shared before, conveying only a sweetness, fondness even— a comforting reciprocation. You smiled against his lips, too, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back, your fear dissipating as fast as it had come.

“I’m glad, too,” Hawks mumbled between your kisses, pulling away to quirk a brow at you playfully. “Can you imagine if I was with Endeavor instead?” he made the both of you laugh before leaning in to press his lips against yours again, the image of the serious, number one hero and your coworker in such a situation too hilarious not to laugh. But just as you started to deepen the kiss, he couldn’t resist throwing in the punchline he’d set up.

“I’d be a damn rotisserie chicken by now.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

sdfghj i never know how to end these and also why do i use this many dashes i am sORRY if you enjoyed pls make sure to lemme know~~ 💕

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

#whew its 2am i did it #takami keigo smut #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #takami keigo fic #hawks fic #bnha fic #mha fic #skskksks I LOVE GLOVES SHOVE THAT SHIT IN ME MOUTH ZADDY

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antebunny · 3 years ago

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never fear, your fairy godmother is here!

(It's Wei Wuxian. He's the fairy godmother)

Wei Wuxian is riding high off a difficult case finally closed when the next call comes through. He’s staring aimlessly into the beautiful delta waters of Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng when the tingling begins, a familiar sensation somewhere in his chest that tells him that somewhere is a worthy human in need of a guide for their happy ever after.

“–So then I thought, well what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t want a lover or a partner, but her future isn’t fame or riches either.”

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure that Jiang Cheng is actually listening to him, but he’s very proud of himself, so Jiang Cheng can suck it up. He’s used to finding his new charges in difficult and tragic circumstances, but he’s rarely found someone in quite such a sticky situation as poor Qin Su.

“And she insists that she doesn’t have someone in mind,” Wei Wuxian continues. “So you know what I did?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Cheng says vaguely, because he’s not listening at all. “Very cool.” He’s not a very good brother, Jiang Cheng. Well, they’re not related, but they also weren’t really born, they just kind of exist, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t worry too much about it.

“I found her a whole team!” Wei Wuxian finishes proudly. “I got a doctor from Qishan, who was looking to get away from her family, and her little brother, and a top disciple from Lanling, and boom! Team of four! That’s a family right there. They’re going to be friends for life.”

“Do you ever consider not boasting about yourself?” Jiang Cheng wonders out loud.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian objects. “I’ll have you know I’m the number one fairy godmother!”

Jiang Cheng merely rolls his eyes. “As you haven’t stopped saying for the past hundred years.”

“Well, it’s–” Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence and puts one hand behind him on the wooden planks of the boardwalk so he doesn’t collapse when his stomach rolls.

“Another one?” Jiang Cheng demands. “So soon?”

“I’m in high demand,” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“But jiejie and I have spent all day making a celebratory dinner,” Jiang Cheng says, dismayed. Then he corrects himself. “I mean, jiejie’s spent all day making dinner for us! Do you want to disappoint her? Do you?!”

Wei Wuxian stands up. If he wasn’t still flushed with success, if only he’d listened to the odd, twisting sensation that said this was not a normal case of a damsel in need of true love, perhaps he would’ve stayed. Perhaps none of what followed would have happened. But perhaps it was always destined to happen.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Wei Wuxian declares foolishly, and vanishes.

He appears in a thematically dark and twisted forest near sundown. The wind is whispering ominously through the leaves. Wei Wuxian pushes aside a branch in order to enter the clearing from which an ugly sobbing sound is coming from. It must be his new client.

By the light of the dying sun, Wei Wuxian can make out a hunched form dressed in fine white robes. The crying is quiet, but the person’s back shudders. They seem to be holding something. Wei Wuxian takes a moment to adjust. A great pair of black and red butterfly wings appear on his back. Humans more readily accept that he’s capable of inhuman feats if there’s something inhuman (but non threatening) about him. He usually goes for crow or raven wings, but he thinks the current setting might be a little inappropriate for that. Many of Wei Wuxian’s fellow fairy godmothers also opt for fancy robes, but Wei Wuxian’s never really felt comfortable with them.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Hello,” he calls.

The man–because it is a man, Wei Wuxian quickly realizes, with a beauty he’s come to expect from his clients, and a cultivator’s sword–whirls around. He hasn’t got a very expressive face, but Wei Wuxian has spent hundreds of years around people. His client’s eyes are wild, disbelieving. He’s got a Lan ribbon on his forehead, one of the inner clan, if Wei Wuxian isn’t mistaken, and he never is. There are two tear tracks running down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Wei Wuxian steps closer. His new client staggers to his feet and looks away, but whatever he was holding or looking at is gone. When he looks back at Wei Wuxian, there’s an awestruck look of recognition on his face. Wei Wuxian grins, pleased to see that his influence has reached the ears of humans.

The man takes one shaky step forward. He seems to be trying to drink in Wei Wuxian’s presence, soak him in just by looking at him. Wei Wuxian can’t blame him. He is very impressive.

On that thought, Wei Wuxian spreads his arms wide. “Never fear, mortal! Your hour of distress has come to an end!” Above their heads, a cloud drifts away and allows the moon to beam through, bathing Wei Wuxian with soft light. “It is I, Wei Wuxian, your fairy godmother!”

Now his client is just staring at him blankly. Wei Wuxian’s grin falters. He lowers his arms and clears his throat. “Perhaps you didn’t h–”

“What’s a fairy godmother?” The client interrupts.

Really?

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I am in charge of finding you a happy ending, in whatever form that may take,” he answers.

He waits another beat. This is usually where his clients start thanking him.

The man does not look very impressed. “How does that involve butterfly wings?”

“I–!” Wei Wuxian starts, very offended and very taken aback. “I…thought they would be less threatening than crow wings?”

The man stares at him. Wei Wuxian vanishes the wings with a thought.

“Well, if you have a preference, just let me know,” Wei Wuxian grumbles sulkily. “I am at your service, after all.”

“That is unnecessary,” the man says flatly. The tears haven’t dried but he’s composed himself. He turns away from Wei Wuxian deliberately.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, chasing his client through the clearing when the cultivator starts to walk away.

“I am not in need of your help,” the ungrateful bastard says.

“Wh–! Yes, you are!” Wei Wuxian argues. “I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t a worthy damsel in distress in need of my services.”

At that term damsel in distress the man turns and gives him a withering, wintry glare. It’s under-cut by a deep well of loss, pain, and sadness that Wei Wuxian is convinced he can see on his client’s face. And to the rejection of damsel of distress, he can only shrug. It’s true.

“I’ll have you know I am the top fairy godmother,” Wei Wuxian says, in reply to the glare, as pretentiously as he can. “For the past hundred years. I have never failed a client. Whatever it is you want, true love, honor, treasure, a kingdom, I can find it for you. I promise you I have seen it all before.”

His client finally stops running away from him. Wei Wuxian saunters up to him. “If it’s love you’re worrying about, people are less narrow-minded than you think. There’s bound to be someone out there who’s exactly who you’re looking for. Well, most of them. Actually, my clients are sometimes a little narrow-minded. One of them specifically requested that I find a true love for him that had never been turned into an animal. A little narrow-minded, don’t you think?”

At this point, Wei Wuxian is up in his face, and his client is starting to look a little overwhelmed. Wei Wuxian backs up, gives him a little space. The Lan cultivator turns to look at the spot in the clearing where he’d been kneeling before Wei Wuxian showed up.

“Can you bring back the dead?” His client asks abruptly.

Wei Wuxian falters. “That’s–ehhh, that’s a, uh, gray area. Kind of depends. I’m going to lean towards no. Yeah, feels like a no. No necromancy here. I have definitely never done that before.”

The righteous Lan cultivator actually has the nerve to look disappointed in him. “Then I have no use for you,” he says stiffly, and starts to walk away again.

“Okay, hold up!” Wei Wuxian splutters, hurrying after him. The man does not hold up, forcing Wei Wuxian to keep pace through the dark forest. It’s no problem for Wei Wuxian, but rather rude, all things considered. “How rude! Here I am offering to solve your life’s problems and you question my abilities–you know I once created a whole celestial mountain for one of my clients–hey! Think of my reputation,” he begs, when his rude client continues to walk away. “I have never, ever failed a client before. Think of how it would look if one of my clients just walked away! Just give me a chance. Please. Please?”

His runaway client finally stops running away, right in a thicket of trees. Wei Wuxian almost bumps into him.

“This is important to you?” His client asks finally, without looking back.

“Oh yes, very,” Wei Wuxian knows immediately, because that’s the thing about his clients. They’re all good people, whether they’d like to admit it or not. The only people who like to help more than them are the fairy godmothers. “It would make me very happy to make you happy.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so slightly. “Very well.”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian fist-pumps. He glances up at the moon, reminding himself that humans have to do things like eat and sleep. “Okay, first things first, I’ll get you home,” he decides. “Tomorrow we can–”

“I have no home,” his new client interrupts in a dispassionate tone that suggests this subject has one too many emotions for him to handle.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow internally and thinks of his Lan clan ribbon, but says nothing. He merely mentally files this client into the hundreds of lost-their-home clients that have come before him. There’s no telling why his new client lost his home. Usually they tell Wei Wuxian about their woes willingly, without Wei Wuxian having to beg them to burden him with their problems. But there’s a whole host of solutions to the no-home problem, exactly none of which Wei Wuxian can think of when the man reaches up and pulls his forehead ribbon off with trembling fingers.

“Um,” Wei Wuxian warbles. He averts his eyes from the now bare forehead. Later he’ll chalk it up to the difficulty in acquiring this client and the subsequent need to prove his powers that leads him to suggest: “W-what about my house?”

His client turns to face him. He looks a little shocked, but mostly confused.

“I live in the heavenly Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian says grandly. Well, he tries to say it grandly, but it comes out matter-of-fact. “I’ve got plenty of room. And you needn’t worry about politics up there.”

Slowly, his client nods, his face unreadable.

“Great,” Wei Wuxian says brightly. He reaches for his client’s hand, ignores the scandalized look he receives, and vanishes both of them to Lotus Pier.

They appear in a pavilion at the end of one of the many boardwalks. Enormous pastel lotus flowers dot the still waters. In the distance, the still waters cascade into a roaring waterfall that pours off the edge of the heavens. Above them, the sun is setting. Wei Wuxian’s client is winded from the sudden travel, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go of his hand. The scent of fresh water and spice sets in.

When the client steadies himself, Wei Wuxian tugs him out of the pavilion. The human’s eyes widen as the halls of Lotus Pier come into view, and Wei Wuxian smirks to himself. That’s the only reason why he’s sad that humans don’t come to Lotus Pier. He’d love a chance to show off his home more.

His client is still trying to take in the magnificent sloping roofs, the purple clouds and the dusk orange sky, when Wei Wuxian urges him into a walk.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling widely. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #who let me write fic at midnight again #this seems like a terrible idea #my writing #greetings tumblr void #still pushing my damsel lwj agenda #ficlet

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taeescript · 4 years ago

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29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts. 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”

- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

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sunflowerim · 3 years ago

Text

UNDER THE MISTLETOE🌿

Intro / Part 4

What was he even doing trying to stop Sirius getting kissed? Sirius was not his to lose. Hell, Sirius didn't have any idea about his feelings. Even Lily could tell. But Sirius, well a school heartthrob would never catch feelings for a werewolf. He was the most beautiful being on the planet and Remus was a XXXXX classified creature according to the Ministry of Magic. He'd never - Remus caught himself mid- internal monologue. Maybe he'd really had too much to drink, his thoughts were going crazy.

Well, the self loathing could wait, because Mary was once again trying to lure Sirius and Remus was having too much fun ruining it for her.

Twenty more minutes and Mary would lose the bet. He changed the location of the mistletoe two more times in the next fifteen minutes and in the last five, he did not even bother making it reappear somewhere else. Remus was slowly sobering up, but even then kept messing around. Mary looked really mad and Remus had the feeling that if Mary knew now that Remus was behind all this, things could get ugly for him. He knew it was twelve when Alice ran to hug Mary whose face had darkened. Poor Mary, she now had double herbology homework on her plate for the next month.

"Fuck the enchanted mistletoe," she muttered before storming up the stairs to the girls dormitory.

Remus eased back into the couch with a satisfied grin and replaced his glass of firewhisky with a chocolate bar. Although the sweet wasn't really helping with the drunken state, he didn't care. People were slowly crawling upstairs, exhausted and ready to call it a day. They'd be leaving in the morning and ideally everyone should just go to bed right away, but the common room still had few people, some dozing, some slow dancing or some eating the last of the food. He was lost in his thoughts when he felt a weight next to him on the couch. Sirius.

"Thanks for today," Sirius said, eyes focused on the fireplace. The light from the flames danced in his eyes and Remus was so busy staring that he didn't even hear Sirius.

"Huh what?" Remus asked, mouthful of chocolate.

Sirius smiled and turned his face to look at Remus. "I said, thanks for today."

"What did I do?" Remus silently prayed to whatever wizarding god was listening that Sirius was not talking about Remus messing with the mistletoe, but luck was clearly not favouring Remus this evening.

"Oh you know, the mistletoe."

Remus choked on the chocolate and started coughing as Sirius got him a bottle of water and patted him on the back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Remus replied once the coughing had subsided.

"You don't have to pretend Moony. I know why you did it."

"W-why?" Remus' heart was hammering inside his chest and he hoped Sirius wouldn't hear it.

"Because you understood my discomfort duh. I obviously didn't want to kiss Mary and it was very evident that's what she was trying to do. She might be the hottest girl in the school, but she's not my type."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so if you weren't moving the mistletoe around, I'd have had to come up with new excuses every time. Sooo thank you, for helping me out. You're the best Moons." Sirius beamed as he put his arm around Remus, giving him half a hug.

Remus froze; both because of what Sirius was saying and because of the close contact. Sirius knew about his deed, and even supported it, said he never wanted to kiss Mary and said "you're the best moons" all under 20 seconds. And what was that about his type?

"What's your type then?"

"Wow, you're not even protesting. How drunk are you?" Sirius said, laughing when Remus facepalmed himself, "but to answer your question, I'm beginning to think cute nerds are my type," he added with a smile.

"I'm not as drunk as I was an hour ago. I'm almost sober okay? But, nerd?" Remus asked, "nerd as in Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Gah, I said nerdy not a pretentious idiot," Sirius replied, mock offended. "But on that note, your spells were amazing today Moony. Looks like someone's been practicing. The timing, the precision, I'm impressed."

Remus blushed at the compliment, "It was easy Pads. Plus, not sure if a sober me would have done that though. Drunk me thought that was fun."

"Then I must say, I like drunk Remus better." Sirius nudged him playfully.

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?" Remus pouted. "Is my sober self really that boring?"

"Hey, no," Sirius turned on the couch to completely face Remus and cupped his cheeks,"I like every version of Moony that exists."

Remus flushed at Sirius' words and looked down because it was impossible to hold Sirius' gaze and he hoped Sirius wouldn't feel the heat creeping up his cheeks on his hands.

Remus looked up to see Sirius smiling at him but suddenly Sirius' expressions changed. He looked over Remus' head and said, "Umm, Moony, what's that?"

And there above Remus' head was a mistletoe floating midair. He was so so sure it was Lily's doing, but he was too stunned to react. All he could manage to splutter out was "That, wha- no, not me, I, no" while flailing his arms around.

Sirius caught his wrists in his hands and stifled a laugh, "You didn't do it?"

"No!" Remus pleaded, puppy eyed.

"Sure, I believe you," Sirius replied.

"I'm not lying," Remus tried again and at that very moment the mistletoe chose to float a little higher, making Sirius laugh out loud.

"Just so you know," Sirius said, "I wouldn't mind even if you did."

"Did what?" Remus said, heart racing and as if on cue, the mistletoe floated down to hang right above the two of them.

"Put the mistletoe up there," Sirius replied, quirking his eyebrow upward.

And in that moment whether it was because of the leftover intoxication or the rush of serotonin from Sirius holding his hands, Remus leant forward and kissed Sirius. Remus had dreamt about this moment so many times, but none of those even came close to the actual moment. Remus' whole being was on fire. Sirius smiled into the kiss and that must have jolted Remus back to the reality. He hastily moved back and his eyes widened at the realisation. He had kissed Sirius Black. His best friend of six and a half years, his crush of three; Sirius Black who most probably didn't even like him back.

"I'm so-" Remus started, ready to apologise.

"Took you long enough," Sirius cut him mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Took you long enough to make the damn move."

"What are you talking about?" Remus was genuinely confused now.

"God, Remus, you're so thick. I thought I was being pretty obvious this semester."

And what?

"Obvious? Sirius are you kidding me?"

"Why?"

"I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I'm trying to say that I like you, you dumb idiot but you've been oblivious to all advances. And now when you kissed me, I thought we were on the same page, but apparently not."

"Advances? What advances and if anything you've been oblivious to my feelings! You like me? And did you want me to kiss you?"

"Ofcourse dummy and feelings! You have feelings for me? Feelings that are not platonic?"

Remus tried to form an answer but failed. This "thirty questions in thirty seconds" with Sirius had drained him. It was too much to process. How could it be real. He looked around for Lily, but they were the only ones in the common room, aside from a sleeping Marlene and Dorcas. Even the mistletoe above them was gone.

"Yes," Remus murmured in a voice so low that Sirius didn't hear him at first.

"What?" Sirius asked and Remus noticed that he was still holding his wrists.

"Yes, Sirius Black, I like you."

"Great, because I like you too." Sirius was grinning ear to ear now.

"So we've both been oblivious to each other's feelings."

"Yep, sounds like us."

"We lost time."

"Okay there, hold your horses Mr. Pessimist. We did not lose time. We were already close. We already spent so much time together. Yes, things might be a little different from now," he paused to wink at Remus, making the latter laugh, "but that doesn't change the fact, we've always been together. Plus we have our whole lives ahead of us. What's a few months compared to that?"

"Wait? Whole life? You thought about that?" Remus asked and now it was Sirius' turn to blush.

"I mean, we have a lot of time, but in the meantime, I'd like to kiss you again. May I?"

"You can," Remus said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Sirius' neck. And if they spent the entire night talking and making each other blush, nobody else had to know.

(yes Remus & Sirius are Lover enthusiasts because why not)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

THE END.

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 4 years ago

Text

Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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nightingaelic · 4 years ago

Note

Fallout 4 companions respond to getting captured by Super Mutants (for optional added angst, maybe even getting turned into a super mutant). Strong not included for obvious reasons.

Ada: "Be advised: My guardian has equipped me with a tracking device in the event of my capture. You lack the privileges necessary to access their estimated time of arrival."

Ada is always matter-of-fact about her situation, even if her legs aren't functioning and she's squashed between two bags of body parts on the floor of an abandoned hospital. She's also patient, and content to wait until the sole survivor comes to retrieve her. In the meantime, she'll run escape scenario algorithms to determine the best way out of the building. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Cait: "Are you f***ing serious?! I'll tear your ears off with my bare hands and string them on a necklace! You don't know who you're messin' with, you green bastards!"

No one can match Cait in sheer viciousness when fighting to free themselves, but even she has her limits. The sole survivor would likely find her in a cage, hyperventilating and on the verge of tears. If the super mutants made the mistake of exposing her to FEV, she would tear the nest apart herself. Mutation would be another internal struggle for Cait, but I think she could successfully make peace with her new state of being if given enough time. A makeshift, giant baseball bat might help.

Codsworth: "Unhand me, you brutes! By God, the class of people I'm forced to associate with these days just keeps falling!"

Pre-war Codsworth is constantly offended by the super mutants' behavior, particularly their lack of housekeeping. He can't help bemoaning his situation for all to hear, something that would probably annoy the super mutants enough to bonk him on the dome until he shuts down. Some assembly required once the sole survivor catches up with him. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Curie: "While we are waiting, would any of you mind answering some questions for me about how you came to exist in this state? Ça vous dit?"

With a wide new world of oddities to study, Curie takes her abduction as yet another opportunity to learn. If nothing else, she can observe super mutants in their natural- or at least chosen- habitat. Prior to her synth transition, not affected by FEV for obvious reasons. Post-synth transition, however, I think Curie would take the mutation as an opportunity to study the effects that turn a person into a super mutant. I don't think she would lose her bubbly personality, similar to the way Lily the nightkin retained some of her old sense of self.

Danse: "You may have the upper hand today, but you and the other freaks of nature are fighting a losing battle." [spits]

Having lost the most to super mutants in the past, Danse fights his captors until he is completely spent. In fact, the sole survivor would have to practically carry the man home for a lengthy recovery, something his suit of power armor would definitely help with. Mutation into a super mutant is one of Danse's worst nightmares, and if exposed to FEV, he would beg the sole survivor to show him the same mercy he once showed Cutler.

Deacon: "Oh yeah, this reminds me of that summer I spent camping out on the National Mall. You even look familiar. Know anyone by the name of Uncle Leo?"

Like in every tight spot he's ever been in, Deacon masks his stress level with quick wits and quicker retorts. Most likely to slip his confines, let the sole survivor fight their way to the heart of the nest, then reveal he was free the whole time and they needn't have bothered. If exposed to FEV, Deacon would probably panic and enlist the sole survivor's help in searching for a cure, positive that a mutated countenance would irreparably damage his ability to help the Railroad. Then again, he might see it as a "new look" and use it to his advantage for a bit.

Dogmeat: [snarling]

Any super mutants that get their hands on Dogmeat are highly likely to lose fingers. Still, there's not much the canine can do if he's put in a cage, other than bark and wait for rescue. While FEV leaves many dogs as aggressive shells of their former selves, I think Dogmeat would be largely okay with his new green-and-bulky form and would still happily guard settlements and follow the sole survivor around, not unlike Gracie from Far Harbor.

Hancock: "Whoa, whoa relax. I've got time to hang out for a bit, no need to get all worked up. Don't stain the coat, I doubt you can cough up the caps to get it cleaned."

Of all the companions, Hancock is the most unbothered by becoming a super mutant captive. It's just another wasteland adventure, albeit one where the opposing cast of characters are all at least two feet taller than him. He might earn some bumps and bruises for being unable to keep his smart mouth shut, but he'll just bide his time until he spots an opening to wreak havoc and escape, or until the sole survivor comes along to wiggle him out. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

MacCready: "You know, I'm getting real sick of you green lunatics. Spent almost a decade living next door to some of your cousins, and they knew enough not to mess with me."

Upon capture, MacCready would roll his eyes and accept that he's going to have to wait for some help. He'd get more desperate the longer his wait went on though, envisioning a world where Duncan lost his dad without getting to say goodbye. Mutation wouldn't necessarily dampen his spirits at first: After all, if anyone can find a cure, it's the sole survivor.

Valentine: "Not exactly a group of masterminds, are you?"

At this point, Nick is used to getting abducted and locked up by just about every group in the Commonwealth. He knows super mutants well enough to know they don't listen to reason, but he can't resist getting in a jab or two about how he's far from edible. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Piper: "So, uh, what's say I write up a column about how super mutants are seriously misunderstood creatures and we'll call it even? No?"

Piper might have similar levels of confidence as Deacon, but hers are much more likely to waver when faced with possible death by ingestion. Her quips would be fewer and more nervous until the sole survivor arrived, at which point she would put her game face back on and cheer her rescuer along. If exposed to FEV, she would beg the sole survivor to help her find a cure for Nat's sake, and eventually weasel the information about Virgil out of them.

Preston: "I didn't need to get up close to know why you're called 'uglies,' but here we are."

While terrified at what the super mutants might do to him, Preston is the most level-headed when captured. He's already great under pressure in battle, and he's used to setting his own fears aside to find solutions for his woes. Most likely to have more people coming to his rescue than the sole survivor alone, due to his role with the Minutemen. If exposed to FEV, Preston would likely accept his fate with dignity, and make the sole survivor promise to dispatch him if he turns violent. I don't think he would, though, and the Minutemen would probably be more accepting of a super mutant officer than most.

X6-88: "I can afford to wait for field assistance, mutant. They will not make the mistakes I did."

X6-88 accepts his predicament calmly, like he accepts everything that happens to him. If unable to free himself, he will patiently wait for the Institute help he knows is coming, even if it's just the sole survivor with a pipe pistol. Regarding FEV mutation, turning into a super mutant might be the straw that breaks the camel's back for X6-88. In the Institute's eyes, the Courser is now hideous and no longer viable in the field: In X6-88's opinion, though, he is even stronger and more dangerous than he was before. I could see him finally choosing to desert his post out of a growing sense of self-preservation once transformed.

BONUS!

Gage: "Well look who's suffering from delusions of adequacy! I'd call you f***ers dumb as rocks, but at least a rock can hold a door open."

Porter Gage is great at heckling, and just good enough that he toes the line right up to where super mutants would start to understand he's insulting them. The sole survivor would likely find a gaggle of them around his confinement space, convinced he's complimenting them when he's actually being very rude. Breaking him out gives him the biggest smile. Becoming mutated himself might actually benefit Gage in the long run, as the raiders he used to be wary of would instead find themselves newly-wary of the Overboss' right-hand man.

Longfellow: "Too bad you aren't one of the more reasonable ones. Might've saved your skin."

Longfellow treats his own capture with a sense of humor, acknowledging that he's not as young as he once was and might need help now and then. Chuckles the whole time the sole survivor is fighting their way to him, and grateful upon release. If turned into a super mutant, he'd shrug, accept his fate, and ask to be escorted to live with his friend Erickson up near Far Harbor.

Maxson: "I welcome the day you and your kind meet total destruction."

If Danse is angry about being captured by his sworn enemies, Maxson is seething. Kidnapping a Brotherhood Elder is something that shouldn't even be possible in his eyes, let alone by super mutants. Once freed, he would do his best to erase the nest from the earth: Fire, missiles, tactical nukes if necessary. Also like Danse, Maxson would order the sole survivor to mercifully dispatch him if he were mutated. Additionally, he'd have them destroy any evidence of his exposure to FEV, and simply turn in his holotags with the news that he had perished in the line of duty.

Desdemona: [livid silence]

Plunks herself down, lights a cigarette if her hands are free, and waits. Eventually, the sole survivor or Glory will turn up, and she'll give them one, lingering look of disappointment before vanishing into the Commonwealth ruins. Least likely to get captured in the first place. If mutated, she would reassume her job as leader of the Railroad with no comment, and everyone else would know better than to ask.

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