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julek · 4 years ago

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a humble offering to @west-moor and @kueble, for bringing this post to life. they’re very dumb, your honor. | read on ao3

It starts at dinner one night.

They settled in a few days ago, bringing the ice cold from the mountains and the snow with them, after trudging up the Killer for two weeks. They sit at the wooden table and before them stands Vesemir’s famous roast, the one Geralt had told Jaskier all about.

Geralt helps himself to some potatoes, and gestures to Jaskier’s plate. “You want some?”

Before Jaskier can nod, Lambert cuts him off. “Darling,” he says with a pointed tone.

Geralt turns to him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “What?”

“You seemed to have forgotten you were speaking to your bard, there,” Lambert quips, and sits back with a knowing smirk. “Just wanted to help you out.”

Geralt blinks. “Uh.”

Jaskier notices the way he’s frozen in place, and gently touches his forearm, ignoring Lambert’s non-sequitur. “I’d love some, Geralt. Thank you.”

“Uh,” Geralt repeats, and doesn’t take his eyes off Lambert as he fills Jaskier’s plate. “Sure.”

Jaskier pads into the kitchen the next morning, eyes still fuzzy with sleep and an old, worn woolen sweater hanging off his shoulder. Geralt looks up from his bowl of kasha and smiles.

“Morning,” Jaskier mumbles, and sits down at the table.

“Good morning.”

The shout comes from the pantry, followed by the unmistakable sound of pans and cups clattering. “Morning, honey!”

Jaskier narrows his eyes, and looks at Geralt for help. He shakes his head. “Um. Hi?”

Out of the pantry walks Lambert, hands full of baking ingredients, a flour scar crossing his cheek. “How’d ya sleep, sweetheart?”

Jaskier decidedly does not blush a bright shade of red. He doesn’t. “Well, that’s just— thank you, Lambert, for asking. I slept well, even though this keep’s freezing cold and my bed was entirely too big for one fragile bard such as myself.”

Lambert frowns. “What do you mean, too big? You’re not sharing with Geralt?”

Geralt chokes on his kasha, momentarily. Jaskier snorts and shakes his head. “No, I’m staying in the east wing.”

“Ah,” Lambert says, a wolfish grin on his face as he ties the apron behind his back. “That’s… interesting.”

He shoots Geralt a look that’s there a second and gone the next, and Jaskier would’ve missed it, if not for the developed skill of observing Witchers and their fleeting emotions. Still, it’s a look he can’t decipher, a mix of amusement and mischief. Best not to find out, he decides.

“So, Lambert,” he starts, a touch louder than he should. “What’s that you’re making?”

Geralt had warned him, Jaskier thinks in retrospect, that Lambert was a bit weird. An acquired taste. And he is, Jaskier won’t deny it, but he’s also incredibly unpredictable — his gruff demeanor and rough disposition always, without fail, betray the sweet words that leave his mouth.

He’d been brushing the horses down when Lambert ruffled his hair and called him dear. Geralt nearly dropped his sword one morning, when Jaskier walked out onto the courtyards and Lambert called out hello, sunshine. On their way to the library to get absolutely smashed, a gentle touch to his elbow and little bird.

They’re all incredibly sweet, incredibly unexpected delicacies, and Jaskier doesn’t know what to make of them. Sure, Lambert isn’t horrible to look at in the slightest, what with the entire lean-body, scarred-face look he has going on, with the playful teasing and easy smiles he gets out of him. He’s objectively handsome, and funny, and kind, when he has to be, and Jaskier has let him know, many times. He hasn’t been exactly subtle in feeling his muscles through his linen shirts and sending looks his way whenever he’s said something salacious and tempting — signs so clear even the brother of one of the Continent’s most oblivious Witcher could read them. Which is why it’s so infuriatingly confusing, the fact that name-calling is all Lambert’s got for him.

And it’s not lost to him at all, the way Geralt frowns and fiddles with his medallion whenever Lambert lets a honey-sweet pet name slip. He doesn’t miss the way Geralt stubbornly looks straight ahead, focused on absolutely nothing at all, nor the way his mouth twitches, almost, almost resembling a pout.

It’s amusing, to say the least.

“Well, I’m off to bed, my wonderful friends,” Jaskier announces one night, after playing a few annoying renditions of Toss a Coin, until he got Eskel to break and beg him to stop.

The wolves say their goodbyes, and just as Jaskier’s about to leave the Great Hall, Lambert calls after him.

“Night, love,” he says, offhandedly, and continues his conversation with Eskel, as if nothing had happened.

Jaskier scans the room, and his eyes fall on Geralt, who’s trying very hard to remain seated, even when his knuckles are white and his leg is bouncing wildly enough to propel him into the night sky. His amber gaze follows Lambert’s movements and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say Geralt was about to throttle his brother.

“Hmm.” He murmurs. “Goodnight, Lambert. Goodnight, Geralt.”

Jaskier smiles sweetly and leaves the room at a leisurely pace. He can feel Geralt’s eyes on his back.

One particularly chilly afternoon, Jaskier’s leaving the library when he hears voices that carry through the hall.

“Well? Gonna explain yourself?”

Oh, the middle-aged woman that lives inside Jaskier’s heart and loves to gossip jumps up and down in joy at the prospect of what seems to be a very interesting conversation. He slips out of the room and presses his back to the wall, even when he knows the Witchers could sense his presence. It’s more fun if there’s a risk to get caught, he reasons.

Lambert’s voice is low, and Jaskier can hear his smug smile as he says, “Well, you weren’t doing anything about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Geralt’s voice echoes.

“It means, you thick-headed idiot,” Lambert drags the words out, like he’s speaking to a child. If Jaskier’s quiet, he can hear the way Geralt’s blood boils in his veins. “That you’ve been walking in circles for too long. Jaskier’s here.” At the mention of his name, the bard perks up.

“I know that, Lambert. I invited him. What’s that got to do with this— this sweet talking thing you’ve got going on? It’s weird. Creeps me out.”

“What? I can be decent when needs must!” Comes Lambert’s offended retort. “What I’m saying, pretty boy, is that he’s a good thing, the kind that Witchers never get to have. Not that you own him or anything— it’s just. He’s good, and he’s obviously waited for you to make a move, sometime in this past decade. He’s here, for fuck’s sake— in an old ruin in the middle of fucking nowhere, holed up with four Witchers and a goat, nothing else. Ain’t exactly a walk in the park.”

Jaskier stands very still, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Hmm. I still— I don’t deserve him.”

Lambert laughs. “Well, too bad, then. You can’t come to me with that self-deprecating shit, I’m not Eskel. But, fuck, if you don’t deserve him, who the fuck does? Certainly not me, but— I need you to listen very closely— he won’t wait forever. He might even settle for me, if you don’t make a move soon.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah.”

Geralt’s footsteps echo down the hall, moving closer to Lambert, Jaskier thinks.

“You’ll stop with the pet names, then?”

Lambert laughs, again. “Absolutely not. It’s too fun seeing you get all hot and bothered.” He steps out of the room, thankfully, in the opposite direction, and calls out, “Don’t fuck it up!”

Jaskier lets out a breath and slides to the floor, gathering the new information in his brain. Geralt wants him. He wants him, and worst of all, thinks he’s undeserving — damn him and his humility. He lets out a laugh in disbelief.

Geralt wants him.

The next morning, when Jaskier walks into the kitchen, he’s greeted by a blushing Geralt.

“Hi,” Jaskier says, an amused smile curling his lips, and sits down at the table. “How are you this morning, dear?”

Geralt pushes a bowl in his direction, a bit too strongly. “Good.” He coughs. “Uh, I’m good… Sugar face.”

“Huh?” Jaskier stops mid-bite. He quickly regains his composure. “Um— that’s good, I’m glad, yeah.”

Geralt grimaces, and an awkward silence follows. Jaskier digs into his breakfast with more enthusiasm than necessary, until Lambert walks in, firewood under both arms.

“Lambert! Thank the Gods— I mean, uh, it’s so good to see you. It’s a bit chilly this morning, isn’t it? I’m sure you agree, what with coming straight from the great outdoors and such— I’m going to the library, if anyone needs me, uh, just,” he rambles as he washes his bowl, “just call. You know. My name. Jaskier the bard, ha— that’s me! Anyway, see you.”

He makes haste to leave the kitchen, and as he walks down the hall, he hears Lambert clicking his tongue.

“Fuck, Wolf, it’s not even mid-morning.”

Jaskier stays in the library until the sweet aroma of Vesemir’s stew reaches the room and his stomach rumbles pleasantly at the thought. Given the way he’d fled the kitchen, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one called him to lunch — they probably thought he was having some sort of stroke, with his word-vomiting and hurried escape. He’s just opened a new book when he hears a knock.

“Come in,” he says, voice steady.

The door opens, and sure enough, Geralt’s standing at the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face and a terribly endearing flush creeping up his neck.

“Hey, love,” Jaskier says, because it’s difficult to call him otherwise. “You okay?”

“Hmm.” Geralt walks over to his chair, and stands there awkwardly until Jaskier gestures to a bench next to him. “We’ll have lunch soon.”

Jaskier smiles. “I was just thinking about that. It’s stew, isn’t it? Oh, Vesemir spoils me so.”

“Thought you’d be hungry,” Geralt says, looking at his hands. “You left breakfast early.”

Jaskier pales, then lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh! Yes, well, I had suddenly remembered a book I just had to examine more closely, and—”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s looking at him now, and Jaskier closes his mouth, choosing to look back into his amber eyes and wait for whatever comes. Nothing does, for a while — they just stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak up. Finally, Geralt does.

“I invited you up here, to spend the winter with me,” he rasps, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of not being close to you, Jaskier, I— I can’t stand it.”

Jaskier’s heart breaks a little. “Geralt.”

“I should’ve asked you to come up here years ago. I wasn’t brave enough. Thought you’d hate the idea.” He grimaces.

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats. “When you asked me to come here with you— you have no idea what it meant to me, knowing you still wanted my company. I couldn’t have been happier.”

Geralt sniffs and gives him a weak smile, his white hair falling on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he says, and gestures vaguely at the space between them. “The whole…”

“Calling me disgustingly sweet and somewhat alarming pet names?”

Geralt nods.

“I know, dear heart.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hands in his own. “I know, and I don’t expect you to.”

“I’d still like to call you something, though,” Geralt says, the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. “Can’t let Lambert best me.”

Jaskier snorts. “So it’s all about honor, then?”

Geralt shakes his head. “It’s about you.”

And oh, he sounds so sincere, so open and fragile, Jaskier can’t find it in himself to tease him any further.

“You know what I loved the most about traveling to Kaer Morhen with you?”

A tiny frown knits Geralt’s brow. “What?”

“‘T was when we stopped in those hamlets, the ones that aren’t even on maps,” he murmurs. “Where you gather your supplies, where people know you and call you by your name. You know why?”

Geralt shakes his head.

“Because,” Jaskier whispers, bringing their foreheads together, “whenever they asked you about me, about who I was, your answer was always the same.”

He’s my bard, Geralt had said to the horse trader when they bought a mule. My bard, he’d answered, when the chatty shopkeeper had inquired about the colorful fellow trailing after him. My bard, he’d said with a shrug and a fond smile, as Jaskier and the tailor entwined themselves in an argument about fabrics and the season’s colors.

My bard.

“You always called me yours.”

Jaskier closes his eyes when he feels Geralt’s lips on his own, a soft, gentle thing. They move slowly, simply exploring — when they part, there are kisses being pressed to his cheeks, his brow, the corner of his mouth and his jaw.

Geralt smiles at him, and Jaskier smiles back, aware that they probably look like two lovesick fools staring at each other, but far too gone to care.

“I don’t need flowery names or honey-soaked terms of endearment,” Jaskier assures him. “Being called yours is more than enough.”

Geralt presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Hmm. Can’t go around claiming you as mine, though. ‘S a bit archaic.”

“Mm. You’re right. Love of my life, my moon and my stars should be enough, then. Rolls off the tongue, even.”

Geralt growls. “Jask.”

“Dearly beloved— no, that’s too formal— I’ve always been fond of Angel, though I doubt I’ve earned that title.”

Geralt kisses him again, and Jaskier half-suspects it’s less about the tender gesture and more about shutting him up.

“I’ll think of more, you know. You can’t distract me with kisses forever.”

Geralt huffs a laugh. “Okay.” He pecks his cheek. “Bard.”

“Yours,” Jaskier says smugly.

Before Geralt can open his mouth, the library door swings open.

“Fucking finally, Geralt! We’re all so very happy for this revelation, way to go, and all that.” He clasps his hands together. “Now, you both need to get your asses to lunch, otherwise Vesemir will kick you out. Jaskier, baby, please be grossly in love with Geralt later.”

Geralt groans. “Fuck off, Lambert.”

He leaves with a cackle. Jaskier smooths out his doublet, gets up and holds his hand out to Geralt. He grins.

“You coming, sugar face?”

#mywriting #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #fair warning this turned out way softer than i intended. it's geraskier tenderness hours #also it largely does not make sense #like. at all #hope y'all like it still!#this was fun #also yes there are only two locations at kaer morhen they’re the kitchen and the library. no i do not take criticism

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murasakispace · 4 years ago

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Adam/Shindo Ainosuke X Male Reader

Author's note : Adam needs a bit of love, don't you think? A little love that doesn't imply to hurt Tadashi. It doesn't prevent that it is certainly crap. English is not my main language and it must be awful.

Warnings : NSFW, spanking, degradation and all the BDSM pack.

You were a newcomer, a rookie here. In S. You had the time to watch the local legends fall from their safe sky on the large screens. The most incredible was the race against Langa. Well... You were still wondering if his name was really Langa. Maybe you misunderstood, hidden in your shadows. First Joe, then Cherry and finally Adam. You had to admit their style was eclectic. Even them had to learn again. They were believing themselves as gods because they were the founders of a clandestin course. It made you shrug a little while you were observing them.

People were people. Here, in S, freedom was at its most powerful. A place were no one could say, order to someone something he doesn't want to do. Everything was ruled by skateboard and the people's talent. You were quite happy of that. Because of an accident years ago in mountains with your motorbike while you were heading to the summit so as to practice snowboard. You had the ambition to reach the Winter Olympic Games in half-pipe. You fell from a cliff and you miraculously landed meters below with broken ribs instead of your backbone.

During years you suffered and your dream of medals in the Olympic Games was gone, vanished into the air. Your well-known recklessness almost hurried you in your grave. In the hospital, you spent the last three years to reeducate with an omnipresent pain in your back, anger against the people who had forgotten you when you would have given them your soul if they asked for it an ended alone. You nearly lost your mind when you woke up from coma and nothing appeared in front of you. You weren't able to see anymore. Time went by and you found yourself offered the chance to remedy to your blindness. But it doomed you to wear particular sunglasses every day of your life. A little cost considering what you've been through.

You suffered. You were still aching but less than these last month. Moreover you felt better each day passing. Only eternal scars remain. And to be here in S got you like you were free as much as before your accident. And you would thank Adam for this. Yet, you meant nothing, watching the same scenes which were playing in front of your eyes.

You were sitting on your motorbike far behind the last people composing the crowds ahead of you. Actually, the last time you came at S was when Adam had been defeated. Since then, you weren't coming as often as you should now. Everything was more peaceful and Adam abandoned this bad habit to smash people in the face with his own skateboard. Of course, the blue-haired show-off would never stop to make his little shows and big entrances. You don't think that one day his "hey bitches and bros and non-binary hoes" would leave your mind so easily.

Yet, even if you admired Adam as an remarkable skater, you wouldn't prevent yourself to hate him for everything he was aside all of it. He was "in love" as he told to anyone who would like to hear it with his partners of race. It was nothing like love. You didn't know how you manage to not go through the crowds to slap him right in the face. He didn't understand. He wouldn't anyway. Love is sweet, a fluttering sentiment which set upside-down your guts and your soul. It wasn't how you remembered this wonderful thing.

Anyways, Adam had been defeated by a rookie that you had the power to crush on a snowboard. Even if he was talented, had he the talent of someone able to go in the Olympic Games? You didn't think so. You had yourself a modified board. And right now before the attended race between two opponents, you were as if you were playing on the half-pipe near the start of the race.

You were jumping even higher than this little rookie and executing figures in air that were turning sick some of the people gathered in your audience. You were hearing the slight gasps of awe coming from several girls watching them. Even Langa applaused you in the distance with an annoying smile. That little group comprehending Shadow, Reki, Langa, Miya and the others was sincerely uselessly noisy. Though, they were sometimes giving you back a smile you had long forgotten it was existing. But you didn't care anymore. You were busy with your "switched back flip with nose grab" and to make people applause even louder around you.

They were kind and cute because even if the trick wasn't so hard, doing it on a skateboard was something else. And it earned you the nickname of Eagle in S. You were impressive to say the least and people were clearly stunned. What you didn't expect was to attract the boss' attention here. Adam. Actually, his little grieves left you as if you were like marble.

Not only was he sticking to you but he also was quite insisting in his behavior. You didn't like him at all. It may have been the second or the third night that you came on the half-pipe of S. No one challenged you that time. You just shrugged your shoulders and were going on the way to leave this place. The pressure, the people gathered here, the races and the clear lack of delicacy from them made you get away from here. A sort of repulsion ordered you to go away. A skatepark would be big enough to allow you to do the same show for any passerby. After all what was the point of tiring yourself by skating if no one could applause for your demonstration of pure talent. And today, several nights after Adam's defeat, you were leaving S for good this time. It has no point for you to stay.

Yet, Adam didn't want the same. He was observing you before Langa. So he caught you up while lights were dancing around him.

"Mmh... What a wonderful little bird I see here. Don't be scared my dove, I'm not going to bite you." Adam said both loudly and sensually, thus it made crowds look in the same moment towards you.

A heavy silence has just fallen onto the crowds. You have heard the wheels of Adam's skateboard behind you. And he came, leaving his hand on your hips, getting you closer and closer to him. You could feel his hands roaming and doing delicate circles on the fabric of your clothes. Such an intimate action while you could almost feel his head rest on your shoulder. He made a little comment about your scent. Does this man have really no shame ?

"Aren't you tired of your own bullshit, Adam? Losing once wasn't enough to bring humility in you?" you snapped back while the man gazed at you.

"Never, my sweet, stubborn little dove" Ainosuke whispered in your ear while his hands were circling around your waists.

His sweet, gentle, poisonous tone was near to give you shivers. You weren't able to discern within yourself if it was a sort of trespassing desire that was boiling in you or a fire of rage and the deep will to smash him with your skateboard. Probably both. Let's agree on the fact that this man was a living invitation to luxury and rough love. You were just a little smaller than him but strong enough to make him comply and kneel in front of you like a slut. You clicked your tongue and forcefully escaped from Adam's treacherous embrace.

"Alright Eagle. I challenge you into a beef" Adam called behind you.

"Carry on" You answered back while the crowds become immediately silent were watching you with great interest.

"A race. You and me. Right now. The loser become the slave of his opponent." Adam added with his usual disturbing smile.

For one of the first times since you were coming in S, it was one of your first beefs. Moreover, with the boss of all that mess. And finally, it involved something hidden behind all of this display. And you liked it. Why not enjoying fully the race and the aftermath. You used the back extremity of your skateboard you hit Adam in the belly and making him move backwards. You were almost ecstatic. You walked calmly until the start line, put lightly your skateboard on the ground and set your foot on the deck while you were waiting for Adam to come. Obviously, he made his way towards you.

"Mmh... I'll enjoy to turn you upside down after this race" Adam sensually whispered.

"Your self-confidence will kill you one day, filthy man" you replied with a dry tone.

"Let's say that now that I've lost my Eve, the only person in S having my attention is you my little dove. Be ready, I'm not going to be easy on you"

These last sentences would the death of you. His magma-like voice was burning your insides. How can someone warm you up so efficiently? That was a mystery. But you liked it. Adam was well-known to be kinky. You hated a little yourself at that time. You were falling for an insane guy who is now targeting you. Obviously, it was not in a romantic way. Yet, Adam remained a reachable fanstasm. And you were apparently one of his. The green fire came rapidly, thus the start of the race.

Adam became fastly the first. You forgot about everything and just tried to have fun. You were skating as if your board was a part of yourself, dodging rocks and Adam's attack. You knew very well that he didn't change that much after his first defeat here. He even did his little thing of holding you close to him with the sort of horns on his skateboard.

" I love the movement of your hips, so agile, so smooth, I can't prevent myself to wonder what it will feel like to love you fully until you will ache for attention under my touch. You are a snowboarder too, right?" Adam asked more or less.

"You could say that. But I'm not like that kid. I prefer half-pipes. Besides, you have really no shame, haven't you? Anyways, goodbye."

You increased your speed and left Adam behind. You were jumping the cliffs where the turns formed the shape of a snake with the lights in the night. While you were flying, you were shining with more and more complicated figures and graceful landings, making you significantly ahead of the blue-haired holy creature named Adam. He managed very quickly to catch you up. A little smile was playing on your lips. That was funny to see him a little bit in difficulty.

You were provoking him. That was unbelievable and remarkably bold of you to do so. You annoying smile was allowing to build desire and longing in Adam's heart. He was the king and yet, a little dove was playing with him shamelessly. Adam was so mesmerized by your own race that he barely realized he was in the factory. The screams of the people gathered in there dragged him from his thoughts. He saw you fly until the finish line and cross it. You win against him. A huge silent welcomed him.

"One of the first things you have not to lose when you run is your own concentration. I don't know what happened to you but it doesn't prevent that you weren't really skating. So for the beef, I cancel the slave thing." You declared when Adam went towards you.

You turned your back to him and headed to your motorbike followed by the blue-haired man. You didn't want to stay any longer. Adam's footsteps were soft behind yours.

"How can you cancel the slave thing, as you called it?" Adam demanded.

Seeing that he didn't have any answer, Adam reached you to catch your shoulder and make you turn to look at him.

"Because I'm the winner" you responded with a threatening tone.

"So having me doesn't interest you?" Adam questioned with a spark of deception.

"I didn't say that" you replied with a playful half-smile crossing your lips.

You were surrounded by darkness and no one cared anymore about you. For the people, you were remedying with your little issues about the beef. Nothing very interesting for them. Your hand climbed Adam's tensed thigh before going backwards to his ass and caressing it shamelessly. You heard the man getting a heavier breath and mumbling sinner sentences in your ear. You didn't even move when he came closer to enjoy the caress.

"Adam... You are such a slut... Look at you, you sound like a virgin discovering sex" You told with an incredible amount of heat on your voice.

You left your fingers coming down on his half-hard dick and rub it lightly. Just enough to give shivers to the man.

"Horny, aren't we?" you carried on while Adam was melting under your touch.

It was only simple caresses yet the man in front of you was letting himself go as if you were escaping and he won't have anymore opportunities to have you so close.

"More" demanded Adam while he has finally what he wanted so hard.

But you stopped here, creating frustration in the man.

"There's a love hotel down Crazy Rock. Come with your Grim Reaper costume." You requested with an overbearing tone.

Adam ordered to Tadashi who wasn't present in S that night to bring him to this place and the black clothes he was wearing against Langa. Once arrived in the building, he headed towards the receptionist who led him until the room. The space was dark and very classical for a love hotel but it was enough to arouse Adam. He felt as if your hands were still on him while he was changing his red costume. The memory of your hands trailing down his back to reach his ass and caressing it shamelessly was still unbelievably strong in his mind. Then he felt the touch join his cock, gently but still enough to make surrender to your touch. He desired you so much right now. Once he wore his Grim Reaper clothes, he laid down the mattress. He let himself go to the warmth he was feeling. He already wanted you so hard. He thought he was still dreaming when he felt the sudden touch of your hand on his neck.

"Ready to cum due to a shameless imagination. What a dirty little pet we have here. Were you planning to touch while you would wait for me? " You whispered in Adam's ear, getting him to have goosebumps.

Your fingers went down along his spine then reached the start of his ass. You were riding him from behind, each of your legs apart Ainosuke's body. You spanked his cheeks violently when you see you wouldn't get your answer, making the man moaning of both pain and pleasure.

"Use your tongue. You still have one, right?" you picked up after this unwanted silence.

"Yes" mumbled the submitted man.

"Louder. I don't hear you."you commanded.

"Yes"

He was speaking at the volume you wanted to listen. Loudly but not enough to disturb people out there.

"Better" you acknowledged with a neutral tone.

You got away from the position you have over Ainosuke. You were looking for the bad you brought with you. In the corner of your eye, you remarked the presence of a mirror. It could be useful but not now. You were secretly impatient to play with the king of S. You glanced at him and couldn't prevent a half-smile on your face. His hips were slightly higher than what would be normal. The blue-haired man was aching for your touch. Unhappily, it seemed sometimes you weren't as mean as some of masters with their human pet when it comes to tough, rough and painful but delicious sex. Well... It didn't matter actually. Your beautiful puppy lying on the mattress would love it anyway. You sincerely enjoyed the fact that this natural dominant male was completely under your control.

"Get up and kneel. Be rid of your clothes and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look at me I leave you here, tied and with a toy in your ass until you faint. Is that clear?" You ordered with a severe voice.

You didn't get any answer immediately.

"Yes". You heard behind you.

"Yes who?" You added.

"Yes Master" Adam ended while he just worked to be in his knees over the blankets.

The man got rid of his suit not so quickly. The fabric was comfortable and smooth, suiting perfectly his body. The memory of your touch was almost disappearing with him leaving aside all the clothes. He ended naked on the bed, his pale skin revealed to the air. He kept his eyes locked on the wall and he didn't have any access to the mirror to watch what you were doing. He only heard some noises somewhere behind him. Adam was shivering litghtly because of anticipation. He didn't want you to be kind with him. The rougher the better. Anyways, love and pain were both the faces of a coin, right? He submits but you serve.

Ainosuke felt your hand climbing along his leg and rest a few seconds on his thigh. You slided a lubed toy in his hole. You went as deeply as you could without bruising you pet and without leaving without any sensations. His insides were slightly stretched enough to emphasize the rubbing which you started from a few feets away.

You had the time to change in a black leathery pants and high boots, all black, with an open shirt lazily flying along your sides. After that, you were just watching Ainosuke's nakedness from behind. He was well-shaped. You couldn't say more. And this beautiful insane man was craving for your attention. You knew the effect the toy had. The more Adam was holding back his moan, the more the toy is going to make him lose his mind. You knew very well that the man had a certain endurance. Yet, it had no effect when the right points within his body were touched and loved.

You were still gentle. You could be more cruel and less careful about your little pet. Adam knew it very well. He was sure he looked like a little virgin taking pleasure for the first time but the thing inside of him suppressed all of his strength. He was grunting and moaning like a whore and he loved it. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't you.

"More..." Breathed the man while his whole body was totally shaking.

"More? Really?" you asked while you were enjoying the frustration on Adam's face and the red hue on his cheeks.

"Inside me... Touch me..."you went to caress Ainosuke's naked ass before spanking it another time.

"You have no permission to cum, dirty pet. I'll punish you otherwise."you warned with a threatening tone in your voice.

The heat was slightly consuming the blue-haired man and pleasure was way too heavy for him, almost choking sometimes. You would be the death of him if it carried on.

"Please..."Adam silently begged while you were heading to an armchair not far away from the display in front of you.

Were you sadistic? Probably. You had one of your legs hanging on the side of your seat and watching Ainosuke fighting the destroying pleasure inside of him. You were so desirable. No one would ever say the contrary. It was only the start for your adorable pet. But it wasn't enough for you.

"Come here." You commanded with a monotonous but commanding tone in your voice.

You saw Adam moving to reach you. He stumbled on the few meters he had to make to come at you. He knelt in front of you but it sounded more like he wasn't able to carry his own weigh. He was looking up at you with eyes tainted of pleasure. He caressed your legs as any good cat would do to please his master and get some food or any touch. Your hand reached his chin and you lift it without any delicacy. A few more and Adam was going to surrender and leaving himself being overwhelmed by pleasure. His red eyes were blurry and full of lust and you locked yours on his. Your hand went in his hair and you brought him closer to you.

"Take it. And do it well, slut" you requested with an overbearing tone.

You felt shaking hands roaming over your leather pants and undo the belts resting on your hips. His fingers freed your half-hard dick but he was too slow.

"Faster" you ordered.

Adam put his finger on the skin of your shaft, then his lips. You hardly held back a grunt of pleasure while you were feeling his hot mouth around your cock. That was divine but not enough. You settled your fingers in Ainosuke's hair and pulled it closer.

"Come on, slut"

The blue-haired man wasn't slow but it wasn't fast enough and it frustrated you. You ordered him for more speed and he did it. Adam was all focus on your pleasure, worshipping you with his tongue and his lips. It was warm inside his mouth. You wanted to dirty your sub with your seeds and make him feel like a doll in your hands. Besides, you increased the speed of the toy inside Adam's ass. He was fighting tou bring you pleasure and not to cum. His whole body must ache but you didn't really care. You wanted more. You helped a little Ainosuke with his movements. His tongue was caressing you shamelessly, and he was all focused on you. You were almost fucking his throat.

"You are really a whore my pet. Worse than a dog in heat. Loot at you"

You led his eyes to the mirror not far from you. Adam moaned when he saw the image of himself. The red hue on his cheeks while he was taking your cock into his mouth. The sight was mesmerizing. Then, lower, the pre-sperm was dripping from his own sex. Adam wasn't able to suffer it anymore and the last image had been the death of his limits and he cummed lankily on the ground. His muscles all tensed relaxed in a few seconds. He spilled his white liquid everywhere at the bottom of the armchair while he was moaning with your shaft still in his throat.

You raised your hand and gave him an echoing slap which made the blue-haired man fall on his back, covered of his dirty sperm. You perceived Adam hard cock raising between his legs.

"Kinky whore. You are not even able to handle it, right? Such a disobedient little puppy. You'll be punished, you know that, aren't you?" you threatened with a sweet voice, penetrating under Ainosuke's flesh.

You were watching your pet getting up from his position on the ground.

"Be happy that I'm not going to order you to lick it, silly kitten. On the bed, now. Twenty whiplash, and if you are not obedient, I'll double that number. Understood?"

"Please Master, no!" Adam surprisingly begged with and hoarse voice to you.

"This is the cost for your insolence and disobedience. It could be a hundred so take what I allow you" You replied without any softness.

You gave the order to your dog to be astride on the bed, on all four. Adam settled over the blankets and stayed still. The man heard you get the tool in your hand. And without telling him, he felt a painful burn on his ass, followed by your hand which rubbed it. Ainosuke heard himself grunt to the sudden soothing caress.

"It was the first. I won't be that kind after. Count them. At any mistake, It'll be thirty"

You blowed him again and your sub was counting but it was painful and red traces were appearing on his skin. You weren't soft with him and appreciated his delicious reactions of suffering and adoration. The toy was still in his ass, driving him crazy from both inside and outside. Adam wasn't able to keep up anymore and at the end on the punishment, he fell over the blankets, naked, full of shame, pleasure and love. He was crying due to the overwhelming amount of feelings. His shaft was so hard that it was painful and he wanted freedom from you. His pants were perceptible in the silence of the room. The blue-haired man felt your hand on his ribcage and forcefully turn him on his back.

He saw climb over the mattress and settle near him. Your finger roamed over your pet's belly and touch his nipples, making him shiver and grunt. Your softness was welcome for Adam. His body was aching due to tension and slaps but pleasure was still present in his blood and adrenaline was keeping him conscious. Suddenly, the toy Ainosuke had in his ass had a different movement, more intense, more rubbing and making him moan loudly.

"Did you seriously think it was ended?" you questioned with a playful tone. "No. Of course not".

You got up and put yourself in a riding way. You pushed your shaft inside Adam's mouth and start to fuck his throat again. Fingers curling down the sheets and becoming white. Your sub was testifying of this pleasure. And you were too. Your hips were getting faster and faster and Adam's eyes were rolling backwards while pleasure was burning him. You were silently moaning and keeping your features still but it was hard when your little pet's tongue was that agile and smart to find the areas able to make you shudder. It felt like eternity till you finally cummed inside of Ainosuke's mouth. Your sub swallowed everything and as a reward you ordered him to change of position and to rest on his belly. You removed the toy from his ass and caressed it softly.

"Master..." called quietly Adam.

"Mmh?" you responded with distance in your behavior towards him.

"Please. Fuck me." begged silently the man.

Where was Adam, the king of S, almost undefeated? Where was the show-off, the insane guy? You knew very well where he was. He was subdued to every of your desire now, drunken by pain and pleasure, knocked by envy. He wanted you in the simplest way. The incubus became the innocent virgin and you were his master. Nothing was left from the skater man that you met at the nightfall. He was just a body aching for softness after a hardship, pleading for quietness now. And more sincere than he never had been until tonight. He needed you.

"Please Master..." whispered again Adam.

But his begging stopped when Adam felt your dick against his hole. A slight moan escaped from him and you started to bury yourself in him. His insides were warm and comfortable but so tight. The rubbing was divine and you could help yourself but start to fuck his ass very slowly to push him to worship you. Adam had his hips hanging a little in air as you were thrusting to give you both an amazing amount of pleasure.

"P-Please Master... More..." moaned Adam while you were almost hitting his ass.

It was so nice to see the man so submitted to his needs coming from you. You couldn't help yourself but started to thrust more and more quickly and fastly. The sound of your flesh against each other was echoing in the room and you liked it. You got rougher and rougher but it was still nice and finally, you let yourself be. You felt Adam's hole tightening around your shaft for the second time. Your hands slide down his hips to find his own sex so as to apply languid caresses. It was too much for him and his muscled yet thin body sank on the bed and you followed him in his climax not long after him.

You were panting heavily and your pet was actually nearly fainting. You took him into a warm embrace and rubbed his skin to soothe him. You didn't have the time for a real aftercare because he fell asleep immediately. You would wait him to take a needed shower. For the time that you had, you left him be.

Adam had been a wonderful sub. You were happy. But you didn't have the intention to stay with him. If he wanted you, then maybe you should have a more serious and deeper conversation. But now, it wasn't what you wanted.

#sk8 adam #anime #anime boy #bad guy #ainosuke shindo x reader #sk8 ainosuke #shindo ainosuke #sk8 renga #miya chinen #sk8 miya #matcha blossom #sk8 scenarios #sk8edit #bxb #male reader #villain #lovers

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sluttynaughtyjock · 4 years ago

Text

Hey guys! So, after a long hiatus, I feel like I’m finally getting my mojo back again, so here is a new story I have been brewing in my head for a while. I’m not sure if this writing phase will last but I plan on keep giving you new chapters or maybe captions for as long as I can. I really hope you enjoy this new story and I’m anxious to know what you guys think, so please don’t forget to comment!

Like always, I would like to dedicate this to @daddysperfectjock, @dumbhornyjock, @manipulativebottom, @skywindsword and @milkinmycoffee1. You guys are the reason I do this! Thanks for everything!

Also, let’s celebrate @daddysperfectjock and @manipulativebottom long anticipated comeback... I’ve missed you guys, let’s show those dumb studs how it’s done!

As usual, this story will also be published at Nifty shortly.

Enjoy!

***

Dumb Jock Roommate

I knew I would probably get fucked in college, but I was not expecting it would be quite like this. Let me tell you how the whole thing started...

I had been setting up in my room for the last couple of hours, putting up some posters and photos on my side of the walls, organizing my clothes in the tiny wardrobe I would have to share for the next few years and tidying everything up when my roommate showed up. It was something that had taken a lot of space in my mind lately, thinking about my new roommate, this strange guy with which I would be living with from now on, not knowing if we would get along or not, if I would maybe hate him on the spot or worse, if he would maybe hate me.

Turns out that should have been the least of my worries.

I was bending over my bed in the tiny dorm room folding some clothes when I heard a warm, youthful voice yelling, “Hey, roomie!”.

I turned around and looked up to the door, just to see the most strikingly handsome guy I’ve ever seen in my life. He had straight, longish black hair, white skin with the hint of a fading summer tan and big, rosy lips, perfectly kissable, and was very tall, way taller than my medium height. His face was so proportionate and harmonious I bet it followed every mathematical rule of perfection, and his masculine jaw was smooth and sharp, almost as if it would cut my fingers if I touched it. He had green eyes and a youthful face, and he wouldn’t look out of place on a Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue or even, what the hell, a teen girl magazine. He had the looks of a male movie star, but at the same time I recognized the quiet confidence and humility of someone who maybe doesn’t realize how beautiful they really are, or their effect on people, for that matter.

His body, tho, was out of his world. He was only carrying two big suitcases, one in each hand, so I had the perfect view of his big, defined biceps flexing and the sexy flow of exposed veins in his arms. His big arms had an incredible development for someone so young. In fact, his whole body maybe seemed to be directly carved out from stone by an ancient greek god of erotic love.

He was wearing a short sleeved white henley t-shirt that was tight on his muscular pecs, and I could see every detail of his perky, dim-sized nipples and 8 pack abs even from afar. The buttons of his henley were open, showing a sexy expanse of tanned, jockboy chest, and the shirt was so ridiculously tight I bet it would ride up and expose his abdomen with any small movement he did. He wore beige khaki shorts, showcasing two muscular pairs of sexy legs and white sneakers. Just as I was ogling below his belt, I caught notice of what seemed to be a big, fat bulge in his shorts, so pronounced and forward that I couldn’t help but think if this guys had actually shoved a big piece of salami down there.

I didn’t have too much time to think tho, cause as soon as that teen stud had entered the room, he dropped his suitcases and jumped at me, giving me no time to react except for opening up my eyes wild and gasping when he engulfed me with his whole body and tackled me over on my bed, falling on top of me and hugging me by my sides.

“Oh my God dude, it’s so good to finally meet you, you don’t know how long I was waiting for this! I was so crazy about starting college and meeting my new roomie, I’m sure we’re going to be great friends! I’m Jon, what’s your name? I see you already...” he kept talking non stop while his huge body was pressed tight on top of mine, squeezing me with his huge arms every other time. He had nuzzled his face against my neck as he talked, and I went completely numb at the feeling of this sex god on top of me, huge hard body all warm and pumped up with joyful excitement, and I completely lost any sense of myself as he talked on and while pressed so close on top of me.

I couldn’t control myself, so I let myself go and enjoy this nice moment, thinking if college meant getting slammed to a bed within minutes of meeting a hot jock, then sign me the fuck up for it. But then I felt it: the big, fat bulge this jock stud had in those shorts was completely pressed against my right thigh and I could feel everything. Oh God, it’s big, warm and thick, and it feels so real it’s almost as if he isn’t even wearing any underwear. Just one thin piece of fabric between the smooth skin of my thigh and his big tube of meat. And now he’s humping me, oh my God, up and down, up and down and I can feel everything and I’m going to get hard and -

“Okay, big guy, okay, move over, please? You’re gonna suffocate me if you keep this up, come on!” I said, flushed on the cheeks and pressing both of my hands on his muscular chest, immediately impressed by feeling how hard it was and grazing his big, erect nipples faintly with my fingers. Oh God, it feels so good, I wish I could just pinch and suck on those big nipples, and... fuck!

He got up and took me me with him, and now we were face to face, him looking at me adoringly with a cute, goofy grin. He had perfect white teeth that I just wanted to suck on. Okay, who was this guy?

“Hey Jon, I’m Theo, nice to meet you” I said extending my hand to him. “That was quite a reception you threw me here, I don’t remember ever being attacked like this when I met someone before in my life”, I finished, still flushed.

“Oh, dude, I’m so sorry man! That’s just me, my big bro keeps telling me I’m too big to keep invading people’s space like that, but I’m a hugger, and you looked pretty huggable. Like I said, I’m Jon, Jon Fraser, I’m 18, I’m going to play football for the school’s team and I’m your new roommate, so let’s be best friends, yeah? Do you play anything? You look like a jock yourself, you’re pretty fit man!”

With that he didn’t give me anytime to think whatsoever, and he just started touching me on my shoulders, arms and chest, coping a feel of my muscles, as if assessing for himself if I was really a jock or not. His big hands all over my body were too much for me again and he was just so close that I could smell him, and fuck, now I noticed how good he smelled, young and masculine, a clean, citric smell, like sicilian lemons and salt water, so I just stood there and let him do whatever he wanted with me.

Well, if this fucking hot jock wants to touch me, I’m not going to be the one to stop him.

Eventually he stopped, and I figured he had finally put the idea on his head that I was a jock like him (which I was, but my sport was swimming, not football), and kept talking as he went to close the door, pick up his suitcases and start setting up his things, which I found so endearing. He quickly started a conversation, telling me fondly about his family and the farm where they lived, while I told him about my life in New York, where I came from. We had very different backgrounds, but he was easy to talk to, being humble and attentive to my questions and answers. I immediately decided I liked him.

From our conversation, I also figured out that Jon wasn’t really bright, and that he had minimal knowledge of a lot of common knowledge concepts, or even everyday social skills, which explained the way he had greeted me. He had a pretty recluse life in his farm and small rural town, one which was thoroughly centered on sports and athletic performance, which was why he was not only a star football player in his home town but also an accomplished wrestler and a basketball jock. He seemed oblivious about most things and was, frankly, dumb about any subject that wasn’t sports, and seemed as innocent as child. He didn’t mention drinking, girls, parties or sex at any moment of our conversation.

But, like I said, I had decided to like him, if only for his wholesome, kind, goofy nature, and his killer looks, obviously. I was watching from my side of the room his muscles flexing and his big bulge flopping around while he set up his things, sitting on my bed, just enjoying the damm view. This guy definitely wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He had his back to me while he was putting his clothes on our wardrobe, bending over a few times to fold them and to put them on the drawers, and I was transfixed on his big, muscular ass, barely contained on his shorts. When he turned over to grab some more clothes from his suitcases, which were now opened up on his bed, I raised my right hand to my mouth to silence a gasp.

Jon’s bulge was obscenely outlined on his shorts, pressing forward like it wanted to just flop out and greet the world, and it was actually just about to do that, because his zipper had somehow opened fully, and from the opening in his shorts I could see the shadow of a huge, thick and soft cock laying there. His fat prick was so big it went all the way down his thigh, bulging on his shorts, so I couldn’t see his cock head, just his massive length. Jon, apparently oblivious to it, didn’t notice his fly was open and that he was giving me such a thrilling show.

I noticed the solitary button of his shorts had somehow opened as well, so I thought it would be merely a matter of time before the weight of his huge cock just pushed his shorts down and exposed his whole junk to me. The way Jon was excitedly moving around didn’t help it, of course, and I saw his shorts were slowly slipping down on his legs with every movement of his. My theory about his tight henley t-shirt proved correct, and with every jerk of his body the hem of it would ride up on his muscular torso and expose to me a few inches of ripped, sun kissed abs. He had perfect proportion and definition, and his flat stomach was smooth, so there wasn’t any body hair obstructing my view. His shorts were slipping down more with every movement, and now I had a perfect view of his adonis belt and the top of his crotch.

“Fuck”, I thought, and couldn’t help but palm my rapidly hardening dick in my shorts as I saw for the first time his small, trimmed pubes showing over the hem of his shorts, which were now so dangerously close from slipping down completely I held my breath in anticipation.

Jon still didn’t notice anything, not realizing the button and fly of his shorts were opened and that pretty soon he would be naked from the waist down in our room. I tried to keep our conversation as I replied to whatever it was he was talking about, something about hoping the cafeteria would have good food, cause I couldn’t take my eyes off the hot sight in front of me.

I sat there frozen for a few minutes, making conversation with Jon as much as my baked, lust-filled brain allowed. It was incredible how this big, muscle-stud was such a goofball of a guy, never losing his naive excitement over things and talking as if he lived in a pink colored world. God, what a precious boy. I realized I was probably fucked at this point, so sucked in on his innocent personality and good looks. I was as fond of him as I was lusting for his body. My eyes were trained on the slow but sure movements of his slipping shorts, which had now uncovered his whole crotch, exposing his well trimmed bush and the first few inches of the fat monster barely hidden underneath. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, the only thing I knew was that I would be there watching the whole thing.

As Jon was moving back and forth from his bed to the wardrobe, he picked a pair of sneakers from one of his suitcases, ready to put them inside the wardrobe as well, when it all happened, fast and in sequence. I could not have anticipated it when one of his sneakers slipped his fingers and fell down, bouncing two times on itself before landing at the foot of his bed. I didn’t even think about it as I got up from my bed and went on my knees to retrieve it; the need to feel useful and helpful was automatic. I bent over and pushed my arm underneath his bed to catch it, Jon letting a little “Oops, sorry buddy, thanks for that”, and when I moved my arm to give it to him, still on my knees right in front of the teen stud, his shorts finally gave and slipped down completely to his ankles, exposing all of his godly frame to me.

The first thing I noticed was the whipping sound of something thick and huge coming out and flopping in the air, just to then feel it slap me across the face and land there, resting on my nose and lips. I blinked twice in surprise to see that, in fact, Jon’s big fuck stick had just slapped me across the face and it was just there, in front of me, warm, hot and heavy.

Fuck! The thing had to be at least 6 or 7 inches soft, cut and fat, with a big, pink cock head completely pressed against my shock opened lips. The second thing I noticed was Jon’s inebriating smell, as clean, pure and wholesome as him, but with an undercurrent of musk and sexual pheromones that travelled straight into my brain and just froze me. I was shaking with lust, my head was foggy and I couldn’t remember how to think or function properly in that moment. I opened my lips more to talk but I didn’t know what to say, so my tongue slipped out uselessly and swapped a taste of Jon’s meaty cock head, bringing it back to my mouth the taste of the most delicious boy I had ever seen or imagined in my life. Below his huge cock were a pair of equally impressive and smooth balls. Fuck me, the kid was made for sex. He looked like a proper porn star, all exposed like this, just for me.

With his shorts at his ankles, Jon’s movements were restricted, so he didn’t move. He stayed right there with his big dick pressed completely against my face and looking down at me on my knees, like a slut, eyes popped open in shock and looking back at him myself. He had a surprised look on his face about what happened but he seemed absolutely naive about any implications of the situation we were in, given the fact he did not do anything to take his dick out of my face. He chuckled.

“Ooh, shit, dude! I’m so sorry! I never meant to put my dick in your face, it’s just those fucking shorts, man, ever since I bulked up senior year my clothes got so tight that my pants always seems to be popping buttons and flyers these days, making me naked! I swear, it’s such a bummer! And back there in the farm we never had much money for new clothes, I was always getting hand me downs from my big bro, so this happens a lot, shit, so inconvenient! Anyway, meet Jonny, say hi to your new friend” as he said it kiddingly, his hips pushed forward a little, pressing his massive dick even harder against my face, and then I noticed he didn’t even do it on purpose, he was just retrieving the sneaker from my hand. His cock pushed up on my face until it touched my forehead and then got down again, smacking me one more time in the lips and leaving a subtle trail of precum on my face. Fuck, was his dick getting hard?

“Hum... It’s, hum... glurph, it’s okay, bro, just an, ah! Accident” I tried to mumble while in between his legs, enjoying being pressed against his crotch and inhaling as much of his sweet jock boy scent as I could.

“Dude, I can’t even walk with my shorts down my ankles like this. Say, since you’re already on your knees, can you give me a hand and push my shorts up, Theo, please?” He said innocently.

Fuck yeah, I can give you a hand stud, and a mouth, and an ass and...

“Sure” I tried to say against his cock.

Then things got even worse, or better for me, if I can say so myself, cause I was just about to realize how much of a clumsy boy Jon actually was. As I put both hands on his shorts and tried to push them up on his smooth, muscular thighs, destiny chose that exact moment to sprout what seemed to be a big cloud of hung, jock boy pheromones straight from Jon’s cock into my nose, his powerful scent wafting inside my brain completely and turning my insides into mush. I lost completely control of my body as my head fogged again and lost my balance on my knees, making me fall back against my ankles. But I never lost my grip on Jon’s shorts, so when I fell back I brought the big stud down on top of me, my head in between his legs and face close against his now half-hard cock.

I felt my head banging against the dorm floor as I fell back, aware of Jon’s weight on top of me; fortunately, the big teen stud put his athletic prowess to the test and put both hands forward before he met the floor, arriving in a push-up position, crotch positioned perfectly in front of my face. During this whole accident, I had opened my mouth to grasp a shout when I felt several inches of thick, jock boy cock lodging itself perfectly down my throat. I groaned at the feeling of Jon’s meaty dick inside my mouth, finally tasting him to the hilt, and just like that, in less than five seconds, Jon went fully hard inside my mouth, stretching my lips obscenely around his cock and taking all of my air out. I gagged and moaned, and I felt the pressure my pink, twink lips and mouth were exerting on Jon’s cock travel all the way through his body, making him groan and tremble.

My mouth was stuffed full of what seemed to be at least 9 or, hell, 10 inches, of Jon’s perfect, juicy boy cock. I was in fucking gay boy heaven!

“Fuck”, I heard Jon grumble above me. He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he too had lost any sense of himself, as I had, and his fat balls slapped against my chin and neck. I immediately put my hands on the curve where his thighs met his muscular asscheeks, holding him gently, when Jon suddenly lowered his body towards my face, shoving his huge hard cock even deeper down my throat. He left it there for a few seconds and then pushed his powerful arms back to retrieve his dick from my mouth and end this marvelous confusion, but when I felt his numerous inches start to slip out of my mouth I immediately sealed my lips closely against his shaft, not letting him go anywhere.

“I’m so, so sorry Theo! Please don’t hate me, bud! I swear I never intended to shove my big fucking prick in your mouth like that man, oh, what a scene! This is such a terrible mistake man, I’m so sorry for being such a clutz and falling on you like that, and worse, making you take all of my 10 inches! Fuck! I can’t fucking believe this happened with me again, man, I can’t believe it, I’m such a mess, so clumsy! I haven’t been here for even a couple hours and I’m already embarrassing myself like this again! And now my cock is stuck in your mouth and I can’t get it out! My best bro Billy warned me against this, dude, he did, but here we are again, I guess” at that, the big stud slowly started doing real push-ups against my face, slowing getting down and shoving all of his thick teen meat all the way inside my throat, only to then come back to start it all over again.

He seemed lost on his own story: in his head this was all his fault, so he had to make it right. He kept talking as he pushed his dick in and out of my mouth, me doing my part to keep it tightly inside right before the point in which his inflated cock head would slip out of my lips. As he kept his back and forth motions, his body started to build up a rhythm slowly, going faster and faster. In just a few seconds, he would be fully fucking my face against the floor with his huge, hard cock, I could tell.

“You see, buddy, it seems by big dick is stuck in your throat, man, and no matter how many times I try to push it out, it won’t budge. So try to breath nice and easy through your nose, yeah? Breath in when I push my dick and out as I take it back, like this, yeah bro! Oh fuck, your throat is so tight. You’re just squeezing me so good... I see you’re gagging a little bit. That’s normal dude, don’t worry, it’s this fucking horse cock... I know this situation is terribly embarrassing for you and might seem terrible, but keep calm, I know exactly how to handle it!” As he talked, he had now perfected the rhythm of his dick inside my mouth, in an out, going faster by the minute and sometimes twisting around as if he was trying to discover uncharted territory inside my tight teen throat.

“The things is, bro, ah, fuck yeah, the thing is this has actually happened with me several times before, fuck. Yeah, I know, so embarrassing, right? But I’m such a clumsy idiot man. Back home, my best bro Billy seemed to get his mouth stuck around my cock at least once a week. Fuck, maybe even two or three times a week sometimes... He kinda looks like you, tho. Very cute, nice little body. I felt so bad every time one of these incidents happened with us, I felt almost like I couldn’t look Billy in the face ever again! To think about the fact that my cock got shoved inside his mouth so many times, all 10 inches of it... Fuck, man, and not only Billy, but with some other guys, too, but fuck, oh, ah, this is, hum, maybe a story for another time. It seems I’m always getting myself in those kind of situations, don’t even know why, it’s so fucking humiliating for me!” Jon was now breaking a sweat as he got serious on top of me, doing his push-ups perfectly like a young cadet in the army. I tried with all my might to pay attention to his story as his big hard cock slammed my throat harder and harder, almost taking me out with the pleasure of it all.

“So, after this happened a few times, me and Billy spent a lot of time talking about what we should do to handle this kind of situation if it ever happened again, so we found a solution for it. And it did happened again, Theo, over” THRUST! “and over” THRUST! THRUST! “and over, and over again “THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUST! THRUS-

“So we had a lot of practice” he was panting now with the effort of doing his push-ups and fucking my face raw against the floor while telling his story, going so hard on me and pushing his massive dick so deep down my throat my head was banging back against the wood flor, making a “THUD” sound each time he speared me full of his huge jock cock. “And we agreed that, anytime that Billy’s sweet, young mouth got stuck around my cock again, or, fuck, oh fuck, yeah, aaaah! Fuck! Or, for that matter, if any other guy’s tight throat ever got stuck with my cock I would just fuck the guy’s face hard, just like this, just as I’m fucking your face, Theo, fucking it so, so good, you take my dick so well, it’s incredible, I would fuck it and fuck it and just ram my cock inside non stop until I fucking cum inside, so my dick can finally get soft and we can maybe use my thick cum as lube! I always cum so much, so it always work’s buddy! Oh yeah!”.

Suddenly Jon stopped talking for a few seconds and just concentrated on skull fucking me to oblivion, the quick slaps of his big balls sure to leave red marks on my neck due to his speed and strength. My head was hitting back against the floor as he wrecked my face on his cock, slamming me all the way on it, thoroughly fucking my face. I was gagging, gasping and moaning all the same time, his big cock and my chest completely drenched with my spit. His cock was so wet with it that it made his job easier, thick shaft slipping smoothly inside. The combination of the small pain on my head and the sensational pleasure of being stuffed full with such a big, perfect dick like this was like the most powerful drug to me, and I was having little orgasms all over my body. I had already came, my shorts and underwear sticky with the proof, and I groped both his ass cheeks harder with my hands, pressing my knuckles deep on his smooth, firm skin, and pushing his cock back against my mouth, signaling to him I was good with this, good with his plan. Hell, I was absolutely loving what was happening.

“Here it is, Theo, are you ready? Are you ready, baby? I’m going to cum, dude, cum all the way down your throat, yeah, stuff you full with it. Take my cock dude, I think it will finally come out man! Take it! I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming!” Jon shouted, holding himself up with one hand while his other one came down to my hair to hold me tight on his cock as he spurted jet after jet of the most delicious, juicy cum I had ever dreamed of tasting. He was all boy, all men, all healthy and strong for me. Just for me.

We stayed there for a few minutes, Jon taking his time milking his cock down my throat, giving me every little drop of his perfect cum, holding my face gently as he pumped his cock in and out a few times to make sure he had drained himself fully inside of me. When he was done, we stayed there still for a few more minutes, waiting for the big teen stud’s cock to deflate so he could finally take it out of my mouth. I opened my lips, showing to him that the passage was clear, so he got down on his knees, legs spread on each side of my torso, and rested his steel hard ass on my chest gently, smiling at me. I smiled at him also, exposing to him what I knew was a mouth still filled with left over cum. Stud jock cum. Jon’s cum.

He took his now half hard dick in his right hand and tapped it gently against my lips, as if congratulating me for being such a good pal during this whole ordeal.

“I’m so sorry, bro, I hope you can forgive me for this. I’ll try to not let this kind of thing happen again, yeah?” He smiled softly, still gently slapping his cock head on my face.

“No way, Jon”, I thought. I’m going to make sure this happens again, stud. I’ll make sure this will never stop happening.

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mimisempai · 4 years ago

Text

I made a wish and you came true

Summary:

Sylvie asks to see what the prince of Loki looks like. When he shows her she laughs at him. Count on Professor Loki to give her a lecture about his Prince.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32183185

1731 words - Rating G

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,

"When will you come home?"

Loki had to stop, overwhelmed by emotion.

Sylvie, her eyes devoid of all mockery, said softly, "So there is a would-be-princess somewhere..."

Loki chuckled sadly before replying, "I like metaphors you know, in this instance, it's not a princess, it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."

"...but you'd like to believe it, right?"

Loki could only nod.

"Show me your prince."

"No way," Loki replied, shaking his head.

"Come on, please Loki!" she paused before continuing, "If you show it to me I'll tell you in detail how I enchant people!

Loki couldn't resist, so he turned his hand and there appeared a mini hologram of Mobius.

Sylvie approached and looked at him closely before sitting down again.

Loki made Mobius disappear.

"Don't tell me that that little man with no stature, no class is YOUR prince?!"

Loki wished he had his brother's hammer to blast her with lightning bolts.

"Yes this is my prince! And your impudence has earned you a lecture on the definition of Prince Charming by Professor Loki!"

Sylvie snorted and told the passing maid to bring her a glass of champagne, because finally she was going to need it.

"First of all, you should know that the charming prince doesn't exist only in fairy tales.

In real life, he is not perfect but he has many qualities that are essential to be wonderful. Is Mobius my Prince Charming?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"To find out, I'll show you point by point that he meets all the criteria that make him a prince for me."

Sylvie settled back in her chair to enjoy the show.

"First, the Prince Charming is generous. He is generous in every sense of the word. He doesn't hesitate to invite you to an excellent restaurant and to offer you a gift you've been dreaming of. Ok, ok, I agree, I didn't have time to fully test that point. But that's not all! He is also generous in giving you all the time you need. He is also able to have an attention that will brighten your day. And Mobius devoted an enormous amount of time to me, when nothing required him to."

Loki thought back to the time Mobius had spent with him just before they left for the mission. He had taken the time to show Loki that he wasn't the villain he thought he was. Nothing forced him to.It wasn't necessary for the mission. In a place where everything was about time, Mobius hadn't hesitated to give him time.

Sylvie simply nodded and waved her hand impatiently for Loki to continue his « lecture."

He took a sip, cleared his throat and continued.

"Second, the Prince Charming committed. He knows what he wants. He gets up every morning knowing exactly where he is going and what he wants to do. He is also resolute, he has goals in life and intends to achieve them. What is touching is that he is not bragging. Humility is his middle name. Quite my Mobius."

Sylvie noted, fondly, the possessive pronoun, but said nothing.

"Even though he pisses me off, because he is narrow-minded about the TVA, what he thinks is real. Nevertheless, he still manages to impress me because he believes that what he does is his reality and that he does it for a better world, he does it with all his heart. And when he talks about it there is so much candor that even I have a hard time getting him to see the reality of things."

Loki remembered their discussion in the cafeteria.

Loki had asked him completely sincerely, because he wanted to know what made Mobius go on, "I mean, you really believe in all this stuff, don't you?"

Mobius had replied simply, "I don't get hung up on, 'Believe, not believe.' I just accept what is."

Loki had tried to show him the absurdity of a world ruled by the 3 time keepers and Mobius had replied by telling him that his story, Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars, Frost Giants was the same thing.

He remembered Mobius' words perfectly, "Actually it's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose."

Loki had chuckled, to hide the fact that he was disturbed by the accuracy of Mobius' argument.

Mobius concluded by saying, determined, "Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real."

Committed, yes, his prince was. Loki realized that he missed their discussion. Rarely had he met someone who could resist him intellectually.

"Hey! Loki! Are you there? "Sylvie was waving her hand, seeing that he was lost in his thoughts.

Loki regained his composure and moved on to his next point.

"Third, the Prince Charming for me must be smart but not pretentious, yes because there can only be one pretentious and that is me of course. Who wouldn't want a smart, educated man? Mobius is extremely smart! Can you believe that he knows hundreds of languages more than I do because he has been working in the multiverse for so long! And best of all, when I tried to manipulate him on my first consulting assignment, he figured me out. He almost knew right away that I was trying to play for my own side. Okay, it's a little humiliating. But that's the charm of him."

If Loki was honest, that was when he started to fall under Mobius' spell.

He had been so sure that he could get what he wanted from him. He was sure he had hooked the fish and then Mobius had blurted out, "He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there."

Loki blushed slightly as he thought about how he had been found out by Mobius at that moment. That's when his interest had been piqued, because Loki couldn't resist a challenge.

"You know Loki, it's almost cute how you have it bad."

"There's nothing funny about that." retorted Loki before resuming, "Fourth, my prince is someone I can lean on. He is a pillar on which you can rest. Imagine, Sylvie, we were working at the same desk and I fell asleep. And on top of that he let me sleep. You know he has this quiet strength. That thing that makes me know that with him I don't have to pretend anymore. But anyway, I was talking about Mobius, not me."

Sylvie moved closer to Loki and said with a smile, "From my point of view it's the same thing."

"What?"

"Nothing, go on."

Loki looked at her strangely before continuing.

"Fifth, my prince is listening. You know I talk a lot and three quarters of the time to say nothing important. But Mobius, even if I tell him something stupid, he listens to me as if it were the most important thing in the world. And most importantly, he really hears me. He can read between my lines and my metaphors, which he also loves. He's much better at getting people to talk than I am. He was able to see and make me say things about myself that no one had heard before. Sometimes I feel like he's the only one who knows who I really am."

Loki had to stop because the scene was still so present in his mind.

"I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline. I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to."

Mobius' tone, his look, his whole being turned toward Loki when he had said just that, "Okay, explain that to me.

Then Loki told him that he knew he was a villain.

Mobius' simple but straightforward answer was, "That's not how I see it."

"Hey Loki? You okay?" Sylvie had put her hand on his arm, looking concerned.

Loki pulled himself together.

"Yeah I'm fine."

He coughed and continued, "My Prince Mobius has an incredible number of qualities but I've summarized them for you because we don't have enough time. So I'm going to conclude this lesson by telling you that the quality that attracts me most to him is that he's surprising. He surprises me all the time. Which is paradoxical after all, I am supposed to be chaos and he is supposed to be order. But he surprises me. Where everyone else hates me, he is there and sees qualities in me that even I don't see. When everyone wants me gone, he doesn't hesitate to put his own head on the line so that I don't get erased. Mobius is not perfect, but he is perfect for me. Because precisely, he doesn't put me on a pedestal but he doesn't make me feel inferior either. He treats me as an equal."

"Okay, okay, okay, it's fine he's a Prince. But the mustache though..."

Loki looked mischievously at her and leaning in close to her ear, he said softly, "His moustache is very nice when he kisses me."

"Loki!" she moved back and flicked him on the forehead.

He took a sip of champagne and they remained silent for a few moments.

"And you told him all this, well not in so many words of course?"

Loki's smile disappeared.

"Because of you, I didn't have the time. And I hope that all of this won't have ruined this beginning of a relationship.Anyway, I'll tell him when we meet again, or at least I'll try to, as long as he wants to listen to me..."

Sylvie smiled softly, clinked her glass against Loki's and said softly, "You're insufferable to the core, but I sincerely wish you'd have the chance to talk to him. "

Loki nodded, this time he was determined to fight, because for the first time it was his own happiness that depended on it.

_______

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius #loki x mobius #loki #mobius m mobius #moki #wowki #sylvie laufeydottir #developing relationship

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1ddotdhq · 4 years ago

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🍌Wed 2 Dec ‘20💚

Harry Styles Reacts to Banana Innuendo Rumors by Making EVEN MORE Banana Innuendos part TWO

Good morning/evening/night to Harry’s post and Harry’s post ONLY! (Okay that’s not true but it was definitely a highlight of my day). In case people haven’t seen it yet, it’s Harry in a light blue custom made suit putting a penis banana in his mouth. The picture is captioned “Bring Back Manly Men” so take a suck on THAT Candace Owens! It was only one of many great pictures in his variety shoot (including another, um, fruity picture of him biting into a pomegranate okay Persephone we get it), but Harry did indeed choose That One to post on This, the day after banana necklace dickscourse, BLESS. Harry’s interview was a little more in depth than they have been in the past, touching upon his feelings on race (“Historically, I can’t think of any industry that’s benefited more off of Black culture than music. There are discussions that need to happen about this long history of not being paid fairly. It’s a time for listening, and hopefully, people will come out humbled, educated and willing to learn and change”), as well as his tattoos (the only time he regrets them is in the DWD makeup chair), his love of reading, fashion and art, his exercise routine (Kid Harpoon couldn’t keep up!), and his feelings on success and acclaim (“It’s never why I do anything...it's always nice to know that people like what you’re doing, but ultimately — and especially working in a subjective field — I don’t put too much weight on that stuff...Fans are the best A&R”).

The problems arose - as they so often do - when One Direction was mentioned. The article said that “The proof [of the band’s benefits] is in the relatively seamless solo transitions of at least three of its members- Payne, Malik and Horan in addition to Styles- each of whom has landed hit singles on charts in the U.K., the U.S. and beyond”. Leaving aside the bad math (that's 4 people!) one name, of course, is notably missing: Louis has in fact enjoyed quite a lot of success both with Walls (remember when his album went #1 on iTunes in the UK AND the US literally 2 months ago?) and his pre-Walls singles like “Back To You” and “Just Hold On”. It got worse because the author tried to back up her claim with Harry’s quote, “When you look at the history of people coming out of bands and starting solo careers, they feel this need to apologize for being in the band...but we loved being in the band...I think there’s a wont to pit people against each other. And I think it’s never been about that for us. It’s about a next step in evolution. The fact that we’ve all achieved different things outside of the band says a lot about how hard we worked in it”. By linking her own words with Harry's quote she made it seem as though Harry said it to agree with her biased take, which we'd know he didn't even if we hadn't heard him say this exact quote without that slant multiple times before. Fans were quick to point out both to the author and to Variety that they were wrong (to describe the reaction mildly), and the author rather than fixing the mistake, doubled down and began blocking fans. Plenty of people were quick to say that of course HSHQ and Harry had approved this content, despite more knowledgeable fans trying to be heard protesting that that is not how it works. (Remember how just recently Vogue got Harry’s whole ass FAMILY situation wrong and it was not corrected until after print, for example?) In fact, even the magazine didn't really proofread this- the print version of the article is different and says, “The proof is in the relatively seamless solo transitions of at least three of its members - Styles, Malik and Horan”, effectively erasing both Louis AND Liam. It's an annoying take either way, but it's one the author more than likely picked up by doing her research on harrie twitter, not on orders from Jeff.

And because we DO NOT STAND FOR LILO ERASURE ON THIS BLOG, let’s talk about Liam’s Web Summit panel! It was 25 minutes of Liam and Marian Dicus (VP of Spotify) being interviewed about the current and future state of the music industry. Both of them, of course, noted that things had changed very quickly in their careers back at the beginning of lockdown, and how it had seemed surreal, at first, but that Liam had found that the way he was operating now (with Veeps and Tik Tok and Instagram lives) had made his platform a two way interaction with his fans. “For a long time I've been living in a dream world where I thought I was speaking with my fans but really I was just talking at them whereas we as artists ask a lot of rhetorical questions... I wanted to start a conversation”. Marian discussed how engaging fans differently WAS one of the most difficult things to puzzle out at the beginning, but that as months have passed, it seems artists like Liam have found a viable virtual future in the music industry (Liam tells us that he's been doing “stadium size shows” on Veeps which is an exciting clue about the mystery of how many tickets they're selling). They also went into the way music trends change as a response to social and political occurrences, how comfort songs gave way to protest songs this summer. Liam said, “People want their artists to have an opinion nowadays it's not that we can stay out of the conversation anymore-- and nor do we feel that we should in many places-- but for me it's a fine line because I realize what I do for people is an escape, people don't want things rammed down their throats every day and news messages from me about things that they don't want to hear about if they've come to listen to music, so its a real fine line that we kind of teeter on”. And about his opening acts, he acknowledges that his fanbase are mostly young women (based on the data breakdowns he gets from his team), and so he feels a responsibility to mentor young female artists in the industry so that more people like his fans have a voice. In an interview full of really fascinating music and technical discussions, this remained my favorite moment from Liam. Just like we won’t erase HIM, he refuses to erase US! And let's not forget our Liam alarm of the day-- it starts out absolutely adorable (“good moooorning!”), is hilarious in that apparently he just rambled completely unscripted and then they awkwardly cut it into 25 parts, but today's installment is frankly not relaxing! “only 23 sleeps til christmas have you done your shopping are you prepared” excuse me Liam YOU ARE STRESSING ME OUT. The promised relaxing sleep story affirmations are still 'coming soon'-- hurry up please I need them to decompress after that alarm!

Now for a lightning round of epic proportions: DWD darling pictures and vids keep comin’ and Harry and Florence are both looking GORGEOUS as Jack and Alice, after the Variety shoot dropped ‘THE CAPTION’, ‘BRING BACK MANLY MEN’, and ‘LOUIS IS SUCCESSFUL’ trended worldwide on twitter, Tan France said “yes please” to Harry's banana post, Harry reiterated that London was home and he didn’t want to be in LA for longer than he needed to,Variety has its virtual show tomorrow at 5 pm PST so see you there! Veeps is sending out emails promoting Louis’ show to people who bought LP show tickets, fans have already started to receive their Louis Tomlinson Live From London merch, Trinity College in Dublin’s Law society presented Niall with an award for, uh, his Irishness, I guess? (Just kidding, it’s for “his incredible talent and work ethics which is famously underscored by a distinct humility despite unthinkable success”). It looks like he will be giving a talk when he’s presented with it, and I’m honestly really interested to see what it’s all about - is he...gonna be talking to law students? Idk but tune in on December 7th at 12 pm GMT to find out!

#harry styles #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan #also i am seeing discourse about H's COOP and how he loves the Manchester music scene #but that this stadium will be changing it irrevocably #i mean it will be adding jobs (4000 of them!) but it will also be pushing out the small music scenes that benefits small independent artists #who are trying to break through into the indusrty #*industry #and i think thats a really interesting and important convo #of which i dont have any knowledge but i did want to shine some light on it #also!! tumblr has finally recced me something that i like! a store called 28cultures.com #and its NOT larry merch but it COULD BE its SO COOL!!!!#this isnt spon con i just thought it was so funny!#anyways!#song of the day~#savior complex by phoebe bridgers #(and rob moose!)

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

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under the cover of night (part i)

mike dodds x gender neutral reader. reader is a detective with the special victims unit. mike dodds is alive and sergeant of svu. special thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for the suggestions she gave, and @crazyshannonigans for the beta.

part one. part two. part three.

word count: 4749

rating: mature, for the pain of having to hide what’s already hidden (canon-typical violence and themes here, with mentions of alcohol, rape, murder, etc. also, mike is reader’s superior)

Undercover operations are always a little bit complicated.

The case itself is straightforward, if not incredibly heartbreaking. A trafficking ring targeted towards couples, with an online storefront for access. The squad has been on them for a month now, and each step closer seems to bring you all two steps back.

But that doesn’t matter, when in the moment, you’re so damn close.

“Hey,” Mike murmurs, catching your attention with a squeeze of his hand. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, mouth quirking up as you squeeze his hand back. “I’m good. Just thinking.”

“About?” he asks, and you just squeeze his hand again, shaking your head with a little laugh as you feel him pull you just a little closer. His hand leaves yours, and when his arm wraps around you, falling into his side feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe because it is. It is easy to follow his lead, to lean close, push up to whisper into his ear. It’s also easy to muffle the mic against your shirt, pressing against Mike’s side so that the sound goes fuzzy. “Nothing for the peanut gallery,” you murmur, and his answering huff hits your hair.

“Understood, detective,” he whispers back, and dares a kiss against your temple, hiding his movements behind your head so the van can’t see.

A straightforward case. A simple undercover. What could possibly make it complicated?

Well.

For a few incredible, secret months, you and Mike Dodds have actually been dating. Secret because he’s your superior officer, secret because of his father, and secret because the thought of waiting for the necessary channels, for when it would be proper, makes your skin itch when you know you aren’t gonna let this guy go.

At first, you’d thought it was a joke, getting that text from Liv. Getting that text from Liv while your feet hit against Mike’s under the table. Getting that text from Liv while having dinner with Mike Dodds, a date to finish up the end of the week, on the other side of town where other SVU detectives or nosy A.D.A.s couldn’t stumble upon the two of you. You’d chuckled when you’d gotten it, barely reading the message to the squad.

“Someone’s gonna be having fun,” you’d chuckled, shaking your head before putting your phone down. The word undercover had been the only thing that’d stuck out, and it was easy to know that you were not usually first pick.

Mike’s lack of response probably should’ve been your first clue. But it wasn’t. You’d just started chatting about something that’d happened at your gym when you realized that Mike had… had actually opened the text.

“Mike,” you’d laughed, reaching for your glass. “Come on. They’ll be fine without us.”

And when he’d cleared his throat, reached to smooth down the front of his shirt and raise a brow at you, well.

That was the hint.

“No,” you’d blurted out.

“Oh, yeah,” he’d responded, and you’d watched him try a small smile as he lifted his hand for the check.

The problem was that you were just the type that was needed – it was hard to ignore when the victims looked a lot like you, and a lot like him. When the targets were professional couples looking for a little bit of fun to “spice up” their sex life, you and Mike, side by side, could’ve been the blueprint.

“The perfect ploy,” Liv had told the two of you as you stood in front of her. Fresh off of trying to look like the two of you weren’t on a date together, smiling together for a photo she could upload onto the page that Amanda was meticulously crafting. “Thanks for doing this, guys. If we set up the profile tonight, we could have a hit as early as tomorrow morning. Find out who’s giving up these couples to the wolves.”

“It’s no problem,” Mike told her, then, hand still around your waist as she lowered her phone camera.

“Our job, isn’t it?” you said with a smile, not thinking about how you hadn’t pulled away.

And then Liv had glanced up to the both of you. A hint of a smile had played across her lips, especially as the two of you almost jumped apart at her raised brow. “We’re done with pictures now. Go look over Rollins’ work, see if it needs any personal touches.”

All of that led up to now. Running your hand up Mike’s bicep in full view of the crew. Your hands interlocking as you lean back with the sound of Liv’s voice in your ear, telling you that the mic was getting caught on his jacket. The feeling of your bodies flush against each other, glancing toward the door while waiting for your contact to arrive.

“Copy that, Lieutenant,” you say, trying to stifle your little grin so the rest of the squad can’t hear the delight in your features. “Any sign?”

“Nothing,” is Carisi’s tired response, and you can hear every inch his jaw stretches with the yawn he manages. “Dead out here.”

“Nothing from this side,” Rollins reports, her voice a little more like a tin can thanks to the distance.

“Think we can call it an early night, then?” Fin asks. “I don’t see any of you standing out in the cold.”

You can’t help your chuckle, but then there’s a sharp intake of breath from Carisi. “Looks like you just jinxed it. Look. Coming from our right, just passing the awnings.”

“That’s him.” Liv’s voice has a tone to it that makes your back straighten subconsciously, a warning that lifts Mike’s arm to wrap around your waist. “All right, guys. You’re on. Remember. We need him to tell us who he sends addresses to.”

“Copy that,” you reply, and Mike’s grip is firm. You look down at your boyfriend - well. Fake boyfriend, you suppose. “Showtime, sergeant.”

His name is Will. He’s a handsome guy, with a brilliant smile and a laugh that’s contagious. You and Mike stand to greet him, and when he shakes his grip is firm, just enough.

“Well. The picture doesn’t do the two of you justice,” he says with a grin, taking Mike in with an unsubtle up and down that makes you smile despite the situation. “I’m loving the no-tie look and show-stopping smiles.”

The answer you each give is a sheepish laugh, and you feel Mike’s hand squeeze on your waist. “Isn’t he a charmer?” you say to Mike lightly, and Will shrugs, faux-humility oozing.

“I do my damnedest. Why don’t we get a couple of drinks? Get to know one another.”

“Sounds fine by me,” Mike says in a low rumble, all warmth. It makes your hand on his back move up to his neck, playing with the baby hairs there.

“Me, too,” you agree. “What’s your order, Will? We’ll cover.”

There’s about half an hour of small talk. The conversation moves… easily enough. Verbal flirting, gentle pushes, but nothing that tells you he’s willing to come along to the hotel room you have the key to.

It’s at forty-five minutes you decide to make a move. You’re standing in between the two of them, Mike and Will, and you find yourself mimicking what you’re doing on Mike’s end with Will. Little leans closer, as much as you can manage, fingers on his arm, on his shoulder. It’s blatant, more than a little, and you try to play up the drinks as much as you can when they’re notably virgin on your end. But Mike…

God, but Mike.

It’s like a bungee cord. Pushing in to Will gets you a pull back into Mike’s side. No matter how much you try, you’re urged back close to him. It gets to the point where Will is getting visibly turned off by Mike’s movements, at the way he’s pulling you back from him.

You know, in your brain, he’s just trying to protect you. Every time Will touches you, you feel the tension from him. You both know what he does with his little team, what the body count has been.

But it’s the operation. It’s undercover.

Will’s hand reaches for yours, the one that’s settled on his knee. He covers your fingers, interlocks your hands, and you don’t hide your little laugh, ducking your head.

You feel that tug again. The bungee cord yanking you back to reality, Mike’s arm on your waist pulling you against him. It makes Will clench his jaw, makes you wince as you press against him and close your eyes tight.

“Mike,” you say, sharp, stern. His fingers release suddenly, and you almost stumble at the lack of pressure against your side.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not sorry in the slightest. You can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the feeling of his hand on your back in smooth circles. “Just…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will’s eyeing the both of you now, and you can see the suspicion start to close him off. His arm lifts from the bar, his finger on the back of your hand pulling away. He’s assessing Mike, and there’s a squint that makes you nervous. Makes you scramble.

“Mike, honey,” you say. “Why don’t you get the next round?” Your eyes don’t leave Will, who’s now facing you completely. It’s as if Mike doesn’t exist, and in that moment, you’re very much okay with that.

You know he wants to argue. Wants to keep himself glued to your side. But another look from you keeps his mouth shut, and when he nods, it’s with a small smile. Polite. Banal. He can’t help himself completely – a kiss to your temple that makes Will’s lips twitch – but you don’t look up when he does so, a dismissal in and of itself.

It’s only when Mike is out of supposed earshot that you start talking, glancing over your shoulder for the show of it. After all, Mike can hear every word.

“Sorry about that,” you sigh out. “This is our first time, and… he wants everything to be perfect. Still trying to figure out what he wants.”

“I know that feeling. And I don’t blame your beau.” Will’s voice is sympathetic, and he lifts his hand again to trace along your knuckles. “Hard not to feel that way with two pretty people to impress.”

In your head is a mantra to yourself. Flirt. Flirt like your life depends on it.

“If you’re worried about being impressive, trust me, you don’t have to,” you laugh out, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glance around the bar. “I would venture to say that’s what makes Mike a little nervous.”

“You think?” his voice goes similarly low. “A man like that? Nervous about me?”

You watch his eyes glance towards where Mike is – yours follows easily. In that moment, you see what he sees. Strong, tall, broad-shouldered, great ass. You have to fight your grin, the little rush of possessiveness that you get when he glances back and sees you. He smiles, bright and easy, like every smile he gives you, and you force yourself to look back at the man you’re trying to seduce.

“Look,” you murmur, and push forward so your mouth is by his ear, your fingers reaching up to run down his chest, play with a button. “We saw your photo, and he couldn’t… control himself.”

Not true. Mike had given a little fist pump at the sight of Will because of his connection to the case, had grinned at you with the victory. But that didn’t matter, because Will was looking, too, and turned to look at you once he’d gotten his fill. “Give him another chance,” you push. Push without being pushy, urge him without seeming urgent. Let your fingers slide down his chest to rest over his hand. “He’ll play nice. I’ll make sure of it.”

There seemed to be a beat. Will’s eyes scanning yours. And then he smirks.

“You have a room?” he asks.

Got him. “Upstairs. Why don’t you come up?”

“That’s it,” Liv’s voice sings in your ear. You fight the urge to turn your head to it. “Get him up there, then figure out what he knows.” She sounds proud, and you try not to preen at it either. Letting all your pleasure show in your smile that you hope looks a little wicked.

“Should we bring the drinks?” you ask. Knowing that the drink you’re getting is as virgin as Mike’s is.

“No,” Will replies, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Get your handsome man.”

You turn over your shoulder. Smile at Mike, who smiles back again when he catches your gaze. You tilt your head with a nod, and he gets the picture, waving off the bartender, offering over a bill before taking a few steps towards you.

Will’s hand settles on your back. You try not to flinch away from it, try to lean into it, even, and smile as you both turn towards where the bar leads up into the hotel. “Lead the way,” you tell him, and he smirks.

You hear Liv’s voice in your ear. “They’re heading upstairs.”

The walk is easy. You know Mike is only a few steps behind, you can hear his light footfalls, but soon he’s right beside the both of you.

“313,” You say against his ear, loud enough that Mike can hear. You hand your boyfriend the key card, and Will presses a kiss against your temple right where Mike did earlier. You try not to squirm with it, just let out a light chuckle as Mike takes the card.

“Perfect,” the bastard responds, and when you smile at him it’s real enough. “I’ve got a surprise for you, once we’re inside.”

“Oh, yeah?” you say, keeping your voice low and breathy. You watch Mike push the door open, moving forward with Will to follow him. His hand drops from touching you, and you can’t help your sigh of relief. Almost there.

That’s when you feel the gun against your back.

You can’t help the way your breath hitches. Mike turns around once he’s in the room, and you swallow tightly. There’s a digging, and you’re urged forward, stumbling as you feel Will’s hand grip your side.

“Keep walking,” he snaps. “That’s it. Let your boyfriend get a good look at you.”

“Sweetheart?” Mike’s voice is concerned, and you can tell it’s not something faked for the squad. “What’s going on?”

“Drop the act, officers,” Will snarls. “And get in the damn room.”

“Dodds?” Liv’s voice is in your ear and Mike’s at the same time, and you both wince with it, the sudden sharpness. “What’s going on?”

You’re pushed forward again, the only thing touching you now the barrel against your back. Your mind is racing, and you close your eyes, take a deep breath. “Will, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, hands lifting slowly. “There’s no need for… for a gun.”

Carisi’s voice is next, sharp. “Did I just hear ‘gun’? Lieutenant –”

“Dodds, report!”

Mike’s voice is hard. “Will, what’s going on? Come on, let my –”

“Oh, shut up.” The gun moves to your side, and Will’s grip on you returns, this time grabbing your bicep to yank you close. “Any wrong moves and I blow a hole into your partner’s side, here. Now, sit.”

Mike’s ass hits the bed quick, and you can see the way his whole body tenses when he’s down. He’s not rigid, no – you know that any wrong move from Will and he’ll leap up, rush the other man, have him down in three seconds flat. It’s only his jaw that clenches, and you watch him roll it slowly as Will shuts the door with a well-placed kick of his foot.

“This is how we’re gonna do this,” Will says. His voice is right by your ear, and you can’t see him, can’t see what Mike sees that makes him push a slow breath through his nose. “You, Mike, walk out of here. I keep your partner for insurance, and I wait for my ride. When they get here, the two of us take a little trip, and I drop your partner off at a payphone.”

A couple of slow breaths from Mike. You do your best to match them, to think. “What’s the catch?” you ask, and you just know the bastard is smirking.

“Anyone follows, I make sure that there’s nothing about this pretty face you can recognize.”

There’s a pause. There’s a lot of reasons you love Mike. He’s one of the bravest cops you’ve ever known. But that bravery makes him tilt his chin up, makes him look Will dead in the eye.

“No.”

Will growls, jabs the gun deeper into your side. You can feel it pressing into your ribs, right against the bone that a bullet would surely shatter.

“You’re a petty burglar, Will,” he continues, and lets his hands push off of his knees as he rises to his full height. He takes a step towards the both of you, and you feel Will drag you back, lift the gun to point at him.

“Fuck off and get back on the bed. I will shoot –”

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. It makes your breath hitch, the way that Will’s arm is now lifted to push against your neck. “We’re Special Victims Unit,” Mike urges him. “You’re not for us. We want the people who rape and kill right after you. You understand?”

“Mike, just go,” you snap, your anger, frustration, fear getting the better of you. But Mike, stubborn asshole that he is, stays firmly planted. He’s not even armed, and yet he stays, arms raising up, eyes steady as he looks at Will. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mike says to you, watches as the gun presses more firmly against your side. Anyone else would think he was unfazed, but you see the way his jaw twitches at the sight of you so vulnerable. “Let’s talk about this, Will.”

“Talk about what? All your friends surrounding the building as we speak?” he snaps, and you feel the barrel against your skin as your shirt rides up. It makes you wince, the feeling, and Mike’s slow blink is measured.

“They’re not. Let’s talk about what I can do for you.”

You can hear Liv talking in your ear. Of course, they are. In ten this whole block will be cut off. But Mike just smiles, a little small one. “We just need information,” he says. “We don’t need you; we don’t want you. All we want is who you tell about the couples. Who’s the one who hurts them?”

Will’s voice is short. “I don’t know. Now get out.”

Mike doesn’t. “How do you tell them? That these people are vulnerable? That they’re sleeping?”

“Mike –” you try, but Will is talking over you before you can get much more out.

“Get out!”

“Will, you and I both know you do.” Another step, and you can see the gun shaking as Will points it, the tremor in his voice overtaking his attempt to assert any authority. “You know who comes in. Who slashes their throats. Who makes sure they can’t scream while they –”

“Stop!” Will screams, a half-sob.

Everyone goes silent. Mike, Liv, Carisi. Any chatter dies, and your breath stops.

You wait for the shot that doesn’t come.

“Stop.” The gun is back against your side, but it’s held loosely, and it’s not pointed to you. Mike tracks it with his eyes, meets yours, before taking another step. “Stop, I don’t – I don’t know them, okay? They pay me, okay? I send a text, they send me money, and – and I don’t have to do anything –”

Mike’s voice is so, so gentle. “I know. I know, Will. You steal. You take what you need, don’t you? What you can sell. They kill. They murder. You got caught up in the wrong crowd. Let us help you.”

Will’s sobs are hiccupping now, and you can feel the way the gun is trembling against you. He’s nothing like the confident man he plays, now, the façade cracking under the right kind of pressure.

Fear.

“Let us help you. All you have to do is give the gun to me, Will.”

Your eyes are closed now. You can’t watch Mike take those steady steps forward, closer and closer to a loaded pistol. All you can do is take a deep breath in, and out, and in, holding, holding, holding –

The gun drops. You hear its clunk on the carpeted floor, feel the way Mike’s hands grab at your wrist and yank you aside. You’re barely registering Mike’s voice as you gasp for air, hands trembling as they grip your knees and you bend over, trying not to retch.

Fuck.

There’s a commotion. Up the steps. You can hear Liv shouting orders in your ear, and you lift a hand to the comm piece carefully, still heaving a little. “Suspect – suspect detained. Stand down, suspect detained.”

“Are you both all right?” Liv shouts, and you hear the sirens outside. “Tell me you’re both all right. Sergeant, report!”

You’re still trying to catch your breath. “We’re fine, lieutenant. Just. We’ll be down soon.”

When you’re able to stand upright, you turn to see Mike. He’s got Will’s hands behind his back, and when the door flies open Sonny tosses him a pair of handcuffs.

“Sergeant,” he acknowledges, and then his eyes fall on you. “You all right?”

“Fine,” you say. “I’m fine.”

“You need to get checked out,” Mike says immediately, and you feel your brow furrow at him, a glare. He’s looking at you intently, and you feel your jaw clench as you rub your hand over your forehead.

“I’m fine –” you try, feeling your hackles raise at the overprotectiveness for the second time that night. He might be your boss, but you know that this isn’t coming from a sergeant to his detective, and it makes your stomach churn.

But your words are dismissed with his turn back to Sonny. “You’re getting checked out. Are there paramedics down there?”

“There’s an ambulance,” Sonny confirms, but his voice is a little hesitant, looking between the two of you.

“Head down. I’ll handle Will and get him to Liv and Rollins.”

It’s an order, or at the very least sounds like one. You glance at Sonny with a small shake of your head before moving towards him. His hand goes to your shoulder, squeezes it, but you just shake your head again before moving through the halls of the hotel, jogging down the flights you need to before emerging into crisp night air.

They check you out, the paramedics. There’s nothing really wrong, besides the way that your heart rate hasn’t seemed to calm down. So you lean there, on the ambulance, trying some deep breathing to ignore the cool metal you swear is still on your skin.

And then Mike emerges.

He walks Will to the squad car. Loads him up, handcuffed, mournful. He talks with Liv, easy, solemn, and then immediately makes a beeline towards you. You don’t know what to say to him. There’s so much in your head, none of it particularly pleasant. All you see is his eyes widening, his hands up, the way he walks closer after you beg him not to, so clearly ready to risk it all to save you –

Yeah. Great feeling to have that on your conscience.

“What the hell, Mike?” you mutter. The back of the ambulance is cold against your body, and you shiver and wrap the shock blanket around you a little tighter. You’re fine, and you’ll stand by that. “What the hell were you thinking in there?”

You’re just exhausted now. Your bones are weary, and you can still feel the place where the gun was digging into you – it’s not bruised, you’re certain, but that ghost of a gun will linger the rest of the day.

“I was thinking that I needed to get us out of there alive,” he says, and you glance up at him before shaking your head, pulling the blanket tighter. “Are you all right?”

You nod, but it’s small. “Look, you should’ve left me in there. You were guaranteed an out –”

“Neither of us were guaranteed anything. I saw I could talk him down, so I did.”

“And if it’d gone wrong? Mike, you can’t keep throwing yourself into danger, and especially not for –”

“I can make that decision for myself,” he interrupts. Again. And you feel yourself tensing, pushing off of the ambulance to narrow your eyes at him.

“Can I speak, please?” you say. It’s sharp, and it gets his attention. Makes him stand still, lift his chin at you. “You can’t keep doing that. Your life is not expendable. Not for me. Not ever for me.”

“My life isn’t worth much at all if I have to step aside when you’re in danger. It wasn’t about whether or not we’re together, and I wasn’t solely motivated by the fact that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay, yes, you’re my – my boyfriend,” you shoot back, and it’s a hiss coming out of your mouth. “But today, in those moments, we’re not dating. You shouldn’t be motivated by that at all. We were undercover – we were cops. You were my sergeant. You have to realize –”

“You surely can’t expect me to just sit back and turn off the fact that I care about you,” Mike scoffs, and you find yourself inching towards the edge of a breaking point.

You throw your hands in the air. The paramedic inside the ambulance almost gets hit in the face as he steps out before you’re pinching your nose, taking a breath in and out. “No, but do you think I could finish a damn sentence?”

His jaw ticks before he relents. “Okay. Fine. Say what you want to say. I’m all ears.”

The two of you are nose to nose, now. Bristling with the exhaustion, the fear, the energy that’s built up and pent up.

“What I wanna say? Fine. You know what I wanna say? It’s that your attitude almost blew this whole thing!” you shout back, and you see Mike’s shoulders tense, the way his breath goes low and slow through his nose. “What the hell were you thinking, going at his throat like that?”

“I was thinking that he was putting his hands on you,” Mike mutters. “What, I can’t look out for you now?”

“Are you kidding?” you retort. You’re incredulous, and you have to force your voice low before speaking again. “It’s an undercover operation. Not the time to suddenly be aware of us. And not exactly a great look for a couple of undercover swingers to be so damn stingy, Dodds.”

His brow is furrowed deep as he looks at you, breath coming in short huffs, and when he rolls his eyes, it stings. “All right. Well, since it’s so easy for you to forget you have a boyfriend, I’ll stop acting like one. How about that?”

The silence is heavy. It seems to push down on you, from all sides, and you find yourself falling back against the ambulance. His words seem to crash on him once they settle on you, and his whole body slumps.

“I didn’t mean –” he sighs out. He sounds so… defeated, but you just rub your hands over your face as he takes a step closer to you. “You know I –”

“I know what you meant, Mike,” you say, and there’s nothing but exhaustion that bleeds into your tone. “Just. Go see Liv. I’m fine.”

He starts to reach out to you. “Baby…”

“Baby? Nice try.” It’s said with a scoff, and you just pull away, standing tall again and brushing him off. When you move, it’s to walk towards one of the squad cars. “I’ll see you at the precinct, sergeant.”

“Wait – don’t –“

But your steps are quick and focused, to where Liv and Amanda stand. You tell your lieutenant you’ve been cleared, and then you’re free to go. Precinct for paperwork, home for the night, and knowing that Mike won’t dare to be right behind you.

tag list: @crazyshannonigans // @hurricanejjareau // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @altsvu // @ssaic-jareau // @encounterthepast // @mijop // @1234-angelika // @wanniiieeee // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @xxlovingfandomsxx

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#my fic #mike dodds x reader #mike dodds #gender neutral reader #canon-typical violence #tw alcohol mention #tw rape mention #law and order: svu #olivia benson #sonny carisi #amanda rollins #odafin tutuola

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hatari-translations · 4 years ago

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Matthías on ‘Men and Responsibility in the Time of #MeToo’

This is a podcast episdode featuring a panel discussion with Matthías in it, titled "Men and Responsibility in the Time of #MeToo". It's quite long, so I'm just going to translate Matthías's comments and what they're in response to.

It's prompted by the 'second wave of #MeToo' going on in Iceland right now, thanks to an unpleasant chain of events involving a prominent podcast host getting a lot of sympathy for supposedly false accusations of sexual violence against him only for two women to then step forward to press charges against him. There's been a lot of emerging discussion in the wake of it, especially about people sympathizing with and believing perpetrators over survivors. Obvious content warning for discussion of sexual assault below.

First, the host asks about men looking inward to reflect on their own past behaviour during this time, and whether they and their friends have been doing so, directing the question first toward Matthías. He responds:

MATTHÍAS: I think so, yeah. I think it's natural and good in this moment to reflect on the past a bit, and perhaps redefine or rediscover, or even - I'm having a hard time even getting words around this. I haven't really expressed myself in this discussion, but yeah, I think I did look back and try to think about boundaries, and I think many people around me are doing that, who have a conscience and want to do right. We're experiencing a kind of - my generation is sometimes called the porn generation - maybe we're kind of discovering a skewed way of thinking that we've grown up with regarding boundaries. So perhaps it's healthy to look back and try to figure out whether you've ever violated a boundary with your ex, or whatever.

And then there's a different matter, discussed in Kastljós yesterday, how if you conclude that you have done so, or your friend has done so, how you go about taking responsibility for that, and I thought that [the Kastljós discussion] was good. I'd really like some kind of education in how to discuss that with friends, what that conversation should look like. If your friend is either accused of something, or determines for himself that he didn't respect his girlfriend's boundaries, or something, in the past - how do you talk to him? I liked hearing yesterday, how did they phrase it, that you should ask permission before apologizing. Not just show up expecting them to sign something absolving you of sin - the conversation should be on the survivor's terms. I don't know. As you said, it's first steps - this is the first time I, at least, express something of worth publicly, or at least I hope it's of worth, I don't know. But it's a really new discussion, and I feel very immature in it, like I don't really have the tools to talk about it. I've just been listening and trying to learn and realize what so incredibly many women around us have been going through, and I feel a certain sense of powerlessness to even talk about it. So thanks for pushing us to get into it.

After a while, Árni Matthíasson mentions the first step is to realize that men grow up learning a lot of toxicity and you have to realize that you're in that position; Matthías adds, "And that you're immensely privileged."

Later, they're talking about how men often don't have the courage to speak up against sexism and toxicity in other men, and how there's a kind of codependency in letting it slide. Matthías adds, "I think all guys can relate to that, from elementary school onwards." They talk about "perpetrator codependency" (gerandameðvirkni), the phenomenon of sympathizing with and failing to object to the perpetrators. Matthías suggests that could be applied to locker room talk too (something that'd come up earlier), "sexist codependency": you don't think of yourself as a sexist but you still go along with these situations.

MATTHÍAS: And speaking of having the tools to talk about it [the others had agreed with his mention of this], I would really like to be better at just being able to nicely and naturally in the situation, but still firmly, explain that I don't think disrespect towards women is okay, whether it's joking or not, without just getting the perpetrator, the sexist, to go on the defensive. To learn to just draw that line in the sand of Hey, you're not funny. It's something we need to practice, I think, as men.

In response to Árni talking about believing survivors on principle and refusing to be neutral, Matthías responds:

MATTHÍAS: You talked about the neutral way, and you were asking if it's hard for men to step up. Up until now, I've had the privilege of not technically needing to take a stance. That's a privilege that men have. I had no idea who Sölvi Tryggva [the podcast host whose case started all this] was before this, I don't watch podcasts, and kind of had the benefit of none of it having to affect me. It wasn't until I started talking to female friends, and women around me, that I realized how much it provokes, and this thing of being triggered. I think guys maybe don't properly know what it means. It has a huge amount of impact on survivors to see that perpetrator codependency, and so much else these days.

GARÐAR GUNNLAUGSSON: If guys look inward a bit, they can see there are women in their lives, everywhere, who've been through something, and often something really awful.

ÁRNI MATTHÍASSON: As they say, it's not all men, but it's nearly all women.

GARÐAR: Yeah.

MATTHÍAS: Exactly.

The host plays a clip of a researcher studying intimate partner violence, talking about 'monsterization', how people imagine perpetrators are these scary inhuman monsters determined to do evil, and this makes it harder for perpetrators to face and own up to what they've done, which is exactly what survivors often most wish for - for the perpetrator to take responsibility for their actions. The host talks about how this also makes it harder for people to believe that their friends have done something unsavoury - you know your friend's not a monster so they can't have done this. Árni talks a bit about how most sexual violence is perpetrated by intimate partners, not some masked stranger.

MATTHÍAS: I remember when I first heard that. I don't think I properly understood it. If it's not some criminal in an alley, then who? I was probably just a teenager when I heard it, that no, it's usually someone close to you that rapes you. I couldn't quite even think that thought through.

GARÐAR: That it could be someone in your intimate circle.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah. Just, anyone you meet.

There's talk about the notion of ruining people's reputations.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah, that thing of valuing reputation so incredibly highly. We could value the experiences of survivors more highly, compared to that. I think it's a really good question - we're taking baby steps with this, but perhaps one thing that's easy to make judgements about is, say some acquaintance is accused of violence, and you don't have the context to judge it, but you still want to stand with survivors, but your friend's also not a monster - whether he's guilty or innocent, he can always show humility and willingness to listen and look inward. That's something I think both the monsters and the good kids should consider. I don't know, when you see someone accused of something and there's no humility towards the accusers' experiences, just defensiveness, or no looking inward to say, 'I think I'm innocent but what about my behaviour has made this person feel differently' - that's a reason to ask yourself big questions. Humility, listening, looking inward, for ourselves and our friends. I think that's one of the keys.

Garðar points out that if you just cut off a friend who's perpetrated violence, he's still there - the violence is still happening until it's actually addressed. You have to have the courage to intervene and try to get him to change, to show that you won't tolerate it, and Matthías agrees with that and says it's something he wishes he were better at, and that all men were.

The host muses on why sex in particular is such a quagmire for violation of boundaries. Árni emphasizes that rape and sexual assault are not sex but violence, and Matthías says "Yes, very good point." The host elaborates, talking about how a lot of the dating culture involves intoxication and so on, and sometimes people just don't get what their partner wants or doesn't want in that situation.

MATTHÍAS: Maybe guys are just very bad at putting themselves in women's shoes, or listening to them. I think if you thought of something that happened at the club yesterday and properly try to put yourself in the girl's shoes, it's simpler than you'd think to work out in your head whether she liked it, whether she thought it was funny or enjoyable when I said this or touched her there. At least part of the problem might be that guys just keep going, trusting that they'll be celebrated whatever they - it's just privilege. And the disconnect happens there. And it's just an exercise in, what I was saying earlier, humility and listening and looking inward.

ÁRNI: Like we're always Mr. Wonderful.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah. Like we're always Mr. Wonderful, and then when Mr. Wonderful hears somebody didn't enjoy what he was doing yesterday, or that he violated a boundary, or even committed violence, that really knocks down some of Mr. Wonderful's worldview. I don't know, that might be part of it. Maybe it's not that complicated, we're just bad at putting ourselves in others' shoes.

GARÐAR: Or we're just idiots.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah, maybe that's what it is. Well, I mean, often when you hear stuff like 'Oh, nothing's allowed anymore', that classic sentence, it's this sort of cognitive distortion from a guy who thinks he's wonderful and everything he says is smart or funny. And if that guy really tries to think, 'Hmm, does this girl think what I'm saying is cool or fun? Is this fun flirting or is this girl just waiting for the conversation to be over so she can leave, because she feels uncomfortable?' I don't think it's that hard, if you sincerely try to understand how the other person feels. Then, of course, there are probably other variables to it.

#matthías tryggvi haraldsson #interview #translation

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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“I finished crying in the instant that you left, And I can't remember where or when or how, And I banished every memory you and I had ever made! But when you touch me like this, and you hold me like that, I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me... When I touch you like this, and I hold you like that, It's so hard to believe, but it's all coming back to me... It's all coming back -- it's all coming back to me now... There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light -- There were things I'd never do again, But then they'd always seemed right...”

~“It’s All Coming Back to Me,” by Celine Dion

x~x~x~x

AUGH, my heart! I blame this 100% on @mira-shard sending me that ship ask for my book-smart, people-dumb spaceman Jacob Cromwell and his boy best friend Duncan and reminding me how friggin’ much I adore these two. They hurt my heart so much and yet I love them with all of my heart and soul. ;~;

This is set toward the end of Carewyn’s sixth year, right after that certain Redacted event. This is also the first time these two have seen each other since Duncan died...and yeah, as you can expect, their reunion was pretty damn feelsy.

Jacob Cromwell had been working hard on his own almost all of that school year to reach the Sunken Vault before Rakepick, but after finding out that R was still actively targeting Carewyn by sending members like the Wizard in White after her, he became all the more determined to try to force them away from the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately for Jacob, R was one step ahead of him. Using the blood they’d managed to collect after badly injuring Jacob the previous year, they had Blaise Cromwell use Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as his nephew and sneak into the school so as to have access to his niece Carewyn, who R’s leader (Jacob and Carewyn’s cold-hearted maternal grandfather Charles Cromwell) ultimately wanted among their ranks as well.

While masquerading as Jacob, Blaise learned Carewyn was still planning on chasing after the Vaults, with the blessing of Mad-Eye Moody, who was currently investigating R himself, and after putting on a weak act of discouraging her, he “accepted her help” and subtly encouraged her to not tell her friends anything else about the Vaults, supposedly for “their safety,” but truthfully because Blaise didn’t want Carewyn to have ties anywhere outside of their family and organization. Blaise did suss out, however, that there were a few people in Carewyn’s circle of associates who were reluctant to leave the Cursed Vaults alone and “stay out of R’s business,” including Ben Copper, who Blaise in particular felt a searing distaste for, given that he was not only a “filthy Mudblood,” but he also was one of Carewyn’s first friends who was incredibly overprotective of her. After Blaise discussed the matter with his father Charles, it was decided that R should “deal” with Ben Copper the same way R had dealt with Duncan Ashe -- namely, to make an example out of him, which would not only scare Carewyn into line, but also take out a potential threat to their overall plan to isolate their target so they’d have no one else to fall back on.

Just as they had whenever Blaise infiltrated the school, R purposefully led Jacob away from the grounds, this time with the Wizard in White as a decoy. Since the Wizard had recently threatened Carewyn’s life, Jacob immediately charged after him with a vengeance, determined to hunt him down and kill him so that he’d never touch “his Pip” again. Unfortunately after several weeks of doggedly pursuing the Wizard in White all across London, he escaped, and Jacob in utter frustration was forced to return to Hogwarts and continue trying to access the Sunken Vault, even if he knew no way to do so without both of the Coral Keys that unlocked the outer and inner doors. It was only when Jacob returned to Scotland that he learned Rakepick had returned to Hogwarts the day he first left and had killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- and it was a few days later, late at night, that Jacob was confronted by a familiar voice in the Lakehouse that was his hiding place.

“So you are here, then.”

Jacob’s heart stopped. Whipping out his white Aspen wand, the ex-Ravenclaw whirled around so violently that he nearly knocked over the overturned boat on the floor behind him.

Hovering over him was a translucent shape of a seventeen-year old wizard. He wore Hogwarts robes, but due to the bluish-gray tint of his form, the uniform’s house colors weren’t identifiable. Not that Jacob would’ve needed to try to guess what house he’d been in -- he already knew the young man was in Slytherin. Jacob had gone to talk to him in their very first year all because he was a Slytherin and could answer that random question Jacob had had about the Slytherin commonroom...

Jacob’s almond-shaped blue eyes went very wide, losing almost all of their light, as his face blanched.

“...Ashe...?”

His voice left his lips in such a hushed whisper, it was like the breath had passed his lips without any diction whatsoever.

Duncan crossed his arms moodily. “Long time no see, Jacob. I’m curious -- did your sister just not tell you I was still around, or did you actively decide I wasn’t worth a visit?”

Jacob’s blue eyes flooded with pain as he shakily lowered his wand arm.

“Ashe...” he whispered again feebly.

The facial reaction didn’t move Duncan -- instead he plowed on.

“I mean, Hell, apparently Madame Pince even managed to catch sight of you before I did. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though...you always did run to books for all your answers, rather than use any common sense -- ”

Jacob did not know what Duncan was talking about, but in that moment, he had trouble articulating that on top of everything else he was feeling. It felt like his heart had swollen up in his chest and was slamming up against his ribs, throbbing with pulsing pain as he clumsily tucked his wand back into his robes.

“Ashe...” he tried again, but it was no use. His throat was so tight, it was like it was being squeezed...

“Then again,” laughed Duncan humorlessly, “‘common sense’ was never exactly common for you, was it? Nor was tact, patience, humility, sensitivity, or even a shred of self-control -- ”

“Ashe -- ”

“I mean, if I’d abandoned the precious little sister who I’d never bloody shut up about for seven years,” said Duncan in a very harsh, cutting voice, “I probably wouldn’t have immediately abandoned her again and only bothered checking in with her after finding out that someone might want to kill her because of me! You kept saying to me, ‘I gotta protect Pip,’ ‘I’ve gotta take care of Carewyn’ -- well, where the Hell were you, Jacob? Where were you this last month!? Where were you after she broke you out of that Vault!? Where were you, when I had to pick up your slack?! Just like I always do -- just like I’ve always done, ever since you waltzed your way into my -- !?”

“Ashe!”

The surname came out oddly choked. Duncan looked Jacob in the face fully for the first time, and immediately faltered.

The ex-Ravenclaw had hunched in on himself in the face of Duncan’s tirade. His hollowed-out blue eyes were very weak and rippling with moisture that he fiercely fought back. Although his shoulders hadn’t crumpled, they were shaking, as were his hands as they clutched at the sleeves of his elegant scarlet dress robes. His...very familiar scarlet dress robes...

Something twitched in Duncan’s expression.

“Ashe...you...” Jacob gave a very painful-looking swallow. “...You’re here.”

Duncan tried to glower at him. “Well spotted.”

He hated how much Jacob was shaking, and how it looked like he was fighting back tears. Jacob didn’t respond to Duncan’s sarcasm -- he appeared unable to.

“You’ve...been here all this time...all these years...you stayed behind?”

His voice was very quiet. He clutched at the sleeves of his dress robes.

“I thought you’d gone on!” Jacob burst out, his voice very strained. “I thought -- you’d left...”

“Well, clearly I didn’t!” Duncan shot back, more defensively that he’d intended. He didn’t like seeing Jacob like this -- didn’t like seeing him so upset -- didn’t like how...his voice echoed with something like remorse...longing...

Jacob’s hands shook more as he squeezed his arms in a vice grip, staring at Duncan as if he were a faded photograph he hadn’t seen in years and wished to carve into his memory before it became too damaged to salvage.

“When I was in the Portrait, I spent days and weeks wishing I could have just one more minute with you -- maybe fifteen, or thirty, just -- enough time to tell you every little thing I never did before...”

Jacob seemed unable to finish. He broke off, his head falling so that his eyes fell into shadow.

“...But -- but knowing you are here -- that you’re here like this...after I couldn’t save you, after R targeted us -- ”

Duncan flinched. The pain and self-hatred in Jacob’s eyes -- it looked just like the kind he’d seen in another pair of blue almond-shaped eyes not too long ago, in response to her having lost her best friend. At the time Duncan had briefly wondered if Jacob had reacted as badly to his death as Carewyn did Rowan Khanna’s, but had pushed off the thought. It was something he couldn’t believe -- didn’t want to believe.

“Ashe...” Jacob murmured. His voice had become rather level and absent, as it always was when he was thinking, even though the clenched hands on his arms were still shaking terribly, “Ashe, I’ve been such a fool...I don’t know how I never saw it before...how much I cared, how much I wanted you -- wanted us to...be an ‘us’...to swoop in and just...take you home to Pip and Mum, and...be a family together -- to break curses and travel the world and get into fights and then kiss and make up and get into trouble and then out of it again and laugh a lot and do stupid stuff and change the world and...maybe, I dunno, adopt some kids down the road or something -- I’d probably be a pretty lousy father, and we could’ve completely fallen apart, and the whole thing could’ve ended up being a mistake, but...thinking on it, all those years...all I could come back to over and over again was hating not knowing -- not knowing if we could’ve been happy together, if...well, even if we were a disaster, at least we still could’ve been something -- had something -- ”

Duncan felt a familiar burning sensation in the back of eyes, and it made him lash out.

“GET BENT, JACOB CROMWELL!”

Jacob’s head shot up, taken aback. Duncan held up a clenched fist as if he longed to punch Jacob right in the face.

“I’m mad at you!” shouted Duncan. “I’m allowed to be mad at you! After every mistake you made, for every bloody mistake you’re still making and will no doubt make for the rest of your sodding life, I should be mad at you! You never bloody learn and you always dash headlong into situations without using that brilliant brain of yours to think twice! And yet you...”

Duncan’s eyes were filling up with tears.

“You...you’re making it bloody impossible! I want to yell at you! I want to hate you! I want to know you never cared and I was a fool for ever wasting my time on you, because otherwise my whole reason for staying behind -- ”

The thought hurt Duncan too much, and he furiously shoved the end of that sentence away.

“I want to resent you for the rest of my undead days, and yet there you go, looking like that and rambling on like an idiot and...and...”

A tear leaked out the side of his eye. Despite the anger in his expression, Duncan was shaking too now. His other hand tentatively rose, hovering just shy of Jacob’s pale face as if he longed to touch it.

“...and...making me fall for you all over again,” choked Duncan, his voice very low and muffled in the back of his throat.

Jacob looked like he too was fighting back the urge to try to touch Duncan as he stared up into his light-less eyes. Like the rest of him, there was a tint of ghostly blueish-gray to them, even though they’d been such a warm, bright brown in life.

“Ashe...”

“Jacob, for the love of -- stop saying my name like that! I told you I’m mad at you!”

Even as he said it, Duncan’s transparent fingers grazed Jacob’s face, making Jacob shiver slightly at the cold as it passed through his skin.

“...Why?” said Duncan softly.

“What?”

“My robes,” Duncan clarified. “You kept them.”

Jacob’s eyes pulsed with emotion, both pained and almost offended.

“Well, of course I kept them,” he retorted hotly. “You gave them to me. Did you assume I’d just stick them in the back of my closet?”

“Sort of,” said Duncan a bit awkwardly.

Jacob’s face actually flickered with some righteous anger. “Because you wanted to believe I didn’t care?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Duncan shot back defensively. “What was I supposed to think, after you disappeared without a trace -- after all of the things I heard about you doing R’s dirty work -- ?”

“You KNEW R forced me to join them!” shouted Jacob. “You KNEW what they had over me -- what they almost did to Pip! You KNEW I would never, ever abandon Pip and Mum by my own choice -- ”

“I KNOW!” Duncan said fiercely.

The transparent hand that had been beside Jacob’s face clasped weakly at the air beside his hair, as if he longed to grab hold of it.

“...I know...” he said in a more hushed, strained voice.

Jacob’s blue eyes were still blazing with mild frustration.

“Ashe, I wore these robes for you, the night I went to the Portrait Vault,” he said lowly.

Duncan was startled.

“I wanted you with me, when I broke the last two Vaults’ curses -- when I saved Olivia...”

Jacob’s gaze betrayed a strange, almost beastly glint -- like vengeance, but much darker and more hostile.

“I wanted you with me when I demolished R and everything they’ve ever wanted and chased after. I still do. I want to make every last one of them pay for everything they took from me -- everyone they took from me.”

Duncan stared at Jacob, his expression strained with disbelief and something oddly touched.

“Jacob...”

He once again looked like he wanted to touch Jacob’s face, to trail his fingers through his dark curls. His light-less eyes fell away from Jacob’s and came down to rest on his lips instead.

“...You know I can’t help you do much of anything, like this.”

Jacob’s expression turned a bit more serious. “There is one thing you can do for me -- make sure Pip doesn’t leave the castle again. I heard Rakepick killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- I can’t let her do the same to -- ”

“You can’t shield Carewyn from R, Jacob,” said Duncan very sharply.

“I can and I will,” spat Jacob fiercely.

Duncan’s lips came together very tightly.

“Do you know who that person was?” the ghost said very lowly. “The one Rakepick killed?”

Jacob’s expression lost some of its anger, seeing how oddly grave Duncan’s expression had become.

“Her name was Rowan Khanna,” said Duncan. “Sixth year Slytherin, supposedly in the running to be Hogwarts Head Girl. ...She’s also your sister’s best friend.”

Jacob’s eyes went very, very wide in horror.

“...No...”

His head fell. His eyes stared down at the floor, but didn’t seem to see it -- his mind was racing, unable to keep up with the horror of this news.

“Carewyn was lured out to the Forest after finding a Quill addressed to you in your old room,” Duncan told him sharply. “Three of her friends followed her and tried to protect her when Rakepick confronted her there.” Duncan’s voice lowered significantly as he added, “....She’d been sent with orders from R to kill one of your sister’s friends -- to send a message.”

Jacob once again clutched at his own arms, his flurry of thoughts darting across his eyes as he stared at the floor.

“They played me,” he whispered. “They knew I wanted to protect Pip -- so they sent the Wizard in White to attack her at the Lakeshore, so I’d fear him going after her...so I’d chase after him to try to stop him, even if it meant leaving Pip alone...”

His head shot up, and his eyes were narrowed in urgency and confusion.

“You said there was a message for me, in my room? Pip found my room?”

“A few years ago, I believe,” said Duncan. “I reckon it would’ve been a logical place to look, if she wanted to figure out what the hell you were up to, before you vanished...if she could even have found anything, in that absolute mess you always worked out of -- ”

“But why would there have been a message for me there?” said Jacob, his eyebrows knitting together. “I haven’t gone in there since I was expelled...”

Duncan frowned. “Well, R might’ve heard about you going into the Library...”

“But that’s just it!” said Jacob. “I didn’t! I haven’t entered the school since I left! It’s not exactly easy to break into Hogwarts -- and if I did and got caught, then where would I be, in protecting Pip and stopping R? I can’t let them get into the Sunken Vault first!”

Duncan suddenly looked almost as troubled as Jacob.

“...So...you haven’t entered Hogwarts at all? But...then why did Pince and Filch see you inside?”

A thought struck his mind.

“...Jacob...when was the last time you spoke to your sister? Not just saw her, I mean, really spoke to her.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “Last year, in Knockturn Alley. Though we didn’t really have much time to talk then, either...”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in anxiety. “Jacob...Carewyn told her friends that you ‘don’t tell her much, whenever you meet.’ That doesn’t sound like something that someone would say after only seeing her brother once in an entire school year. It sounds like someone who’s been meeting him regularly.”

Jacob stiffened visibly. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as they wandered over the walls and floor.

“Something’s not right,” he said lowly.

He turned on his heel, whipping out his white wand as he went.

“I need to find out what’s going on. Ashe...while I’m gone, please -- ”

“Jacob, stop.”

Duncan swept right through Jacob, making the smaller man shudder. The ghost hovered over Jacob, his translucent robes flapping silently on either side of him.

“Before you go running off without thinking again,” said Duncan sardonically, “talk to your sister.”

Jacob looked hesitant and slightly ashamed.

“I need to protect her -- ”

“No, you need to be there for her,” Duncan cut him off fiercely. “She’s just lost the first real friend she ever made in her life -- someone she cares about like few others. There’s only one person in this entire world who might know what that’s like...”

Duncan swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“...If you...truly cared, when I died, Jacob...then you’re the only person who might know what she needs, right now.”

Jacob closed his eyes and turned away, unable to reply. His fist clenched over the Aspen wand at his side.

“...Does she hate me?” he asked at last, very lowly. “Does she blame me...for what happened?”

Duncan’s eyes softened slightly. “You know she doesn’t.”

This didn’t seem to comfort Jacob, though. If anything, it made him more upset -- like he thought she should blame him.

Duncan exhaled heavily. “Jacob, please -- I know you want to protect Carewyn, and I know there’s not much time to stop R from reaching the Sunken Vault...but...”

A strange wry smile pricked at the corner of his lips.

“...if there’s one thing your sister has taught me...it’s how much knowing that someone cares -- that you’re not alone -- can mean.”

Jacob’s posture straightened slightly.

“She’s shouldered a lot by herself since you left, Jacob,” said Duncan. “Her friends are trying to help her with it now...but I think the help she really needs is yours.”

Jacob was silent for another long moment. Then he turned just enough to look at Duncan over his shoulder -- his lips had curled up in a crooked, sad smile.

“...You really did look after my Pip for me.”

Duncan gave a loud huff and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I could’ve not picked up your slack.”

His expression betrayed a bit more seriousness as he added, “...She’s a fine lass, Jacob.”

Jacob’s eyes squinted almost fondly. “She is.”

The smile then slid off his face.

“If Pip wants to see me, just...tell her to go out toward the Lake after dark and shoot up red sparks. I’ll come running right out to her. ...Will you tell her that, for me?”

Duncan nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. And Ashe?”

“Yeah?”

Jacob swallowed.

“You know how I feel about you...right?”

Duncan’s expression turned rather snarky. “Of course I do. You kept me around so you’d have someone to show off to.”

Jacob immediately looked irritated, and Duncan quickly added in exasperation, “Oh, come on, you know I know! Just...”

His transparent cheeks darkened with a dark blue flush as he glanced away out the side of his eye.

“Just...say it anyway.”

Jacob’s expression cleared, slowly breaking out into a bright grin that made him look years younger.

“...I love you.”

Duncan closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose.

“I have for a while,” Jacob pressed on, “dunno really how long, but...”

“All right, that’ll do,” Duncan said under his breath brusquely, despite the dark flush still clinging to his face. “I love you too -- so don’t go off and get yourself killed too, all right?”

With this, Duncan swept right past Jacob, brushing through his hair as he disappeared through the Lakehouse’s wall and back toward the school.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #my writing #duncan ashe #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell #blaise cromwell #charles cromwell #*cranks up the celine dion*#THESE TWOOOO #I love putting them in AUs where they can actually be a couple and have a slightly happier ending where neither becomes a ghost #*eyes the potc au*#*and also the lotr au*#I may dislike the 'bury the gays' trope but I kind of like subverting by having duncan's death not be the end of either of their stories #or characters arcs for that matter #plus duncan gets to bond with his unofficial sister-in-law and help with the Vaults!!#yay #oh by the way duncan's wearing bell bottoms bc he and jacob went to school in the 70's #so I draw all of their uniforms with that 70's flair #I drew young!gilderoy lockhart with those bellbottoms on his school uniform once back in the day too #but yeah anyway #damn it jam city #duncan ashe deserves better #caps cw

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elizabeth-mitchells · 4 years ago

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the only touchstone of truth - I Care A Lot (2021) - Fran/Marla

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 4:

Ever since that first day, when Fran caught her destroying her own shop in order to incriminate the enemy, she always found Marla to be a completely breathtaking woman. But this was a whole different level. When the big day finally arrived, Marla showed up to court ready to kill. She was wearing what Fran would’ve bet was a brand new suit that, much like the restaurant she visited, Marla probably could only afford out of sheer confidence in the fact that she knew she deserved luxury. Her striking blue eyes looked as brilliant as ever, mischievous when she met the other woman’s gaze, but ready to turn innocent and falsely vulnerable in front of the judge. However, this time Fran couldn’t tear her attention away from one very specific thing about Marla: her new haircut. Gone were the soft waves that fell lovingly over her shoulders. The short bob haircut was all about sharp edges, not a single blonde hair out of place, and it perfectly complemented Marla. Fran thought the new style was so on point that soon enough it would be difficult to even remember the way Marla looked before. And, like maybe things about Marla, Fran thought it was like an extremely sophisticated and gorgeous piece of armor that no anybody could completely decipher.

“Marla,” she greeted her outside of court with a grin on her lips to disguise the way her mouth suddenly felt dry at the sight of the blonde woman, “you look good.”

Not one for fake humility, Marla returned the smile, “Right?” she shook her blonde hair off her face, “Dress for winning, it’s a thing.”

“I already feel like a winner,” Fran couldn’t hold back her smile as she followed Marla inside the building.

“Will you behave ,” Marla retorted, looking at her over her shoulder with a teasing look, “at least until the trial is over?”

“I can’t make such promises,” the brunette laughed, walking just a little too close to Marla, just for the pleasure of hearing Marla’s chuckle in response and, yes, maybe also for the pleasure of standing so close to her. If Fran was being honest, she was more than a little excited to witness the trial. It was Marla’s first time in court but she could already tell it would be, not only a great success, but incredibly entertaining, exciting, even fascinating, considering Fran would be aware of Marla’s lies, tricks, manipulation of the facts, and frighteningly good acting.

They were ready for the show.

---

The thing is, judging by the way Marla walked away from the court that day, hardly anybody would have guessed that she just lost her case. Marla lost. She lost the case against the massive company that put her lawful little shop out of business in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t even for honest reasons, like discovering that she incriminated them, no. She lost because there was money in between, hanging from a thread in front of the judge’s head like a carrot taunting him to go for the best bidder. She lost, not because she played dirty, but because the game was already rigged, and there were better, or worse depending on where you stand, players ahead of her. Not for long , she bitterly told herself, walking the long hallways with her head held high, jaw clenched, demeanor perfectly controlled, blond hair swaying only slightly.

“Marla.”

And then there was the voice that made her feel perfectly uncontrolled by simply calling out her name.

“Not now, Fran,” she whispered, aware that she could only keep her strong and unaffected facade for so long.

“ Marla ,” Fran repeated her name, somehow managing to sound firm and gentle at the same time. This time she caught up with her, and added a tentative touch to the other woman’s elbow.

Marla gritted her teeth. She couldn’t afford to lose her cool in public. She highly doubted she’d cry for this misstep. She didn’t think she’d lose her temper either, not exactly. But a breakdown was just waiting to happen. All she needed was an escape and, luckily, she knew the right spot for it. She couldn’t believe that there, out of all places, she could think of a safe place to land. Though, then again, maybe it wasn’t about the secluded hallway where she’d first kissed Fran. Maybe it was all about Fran’s company. Either way, silently, the two women made their way to that secret spot once more, even if this time their spirits were the entire opposite to those of the previous occasion.

This time Marla was the one to lean her back against the wall. She didn’t look completely defeated, not even when there was Fran in front of her, with worried eyes staring at her. But she did look exhausted. It was a look that didn’t exactly fit with the image Fran had of Marla Grayson in her mind.

“Are you okay?” Fran asked first. As an answer, she received a particular look from the blonde that she wasn’t all capable of deciphering just yet, but at least she understood two things. One, she wouldn’t get much more of an answer. Two, she desperately wanted to get to that place where she would be beyond capable of reading Marla’s silents looks effortlessly. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out next, “I should have… I should have warned you, I guess. This happens all the time, it’s never fair, really. Justice is bullshit, Marla, really. I just thought, I really thought-”

“I’m sorry about your money, Fran,” Marla stopped the younger woman in her tracks with her words and the movement of her hand toward Fran’s cheek. It was obvious that neither of them would get any money out of this failed plan.

“Don’t worry about that,” Fran’s frown deepened and she shook her head just lightly but still Marla dropped her hand and she instantly missed the contact. There was a heavy silence between them. No money. No celebration. No case to prepare for. This couldn’t be an ending for them, could it? “What are you going to do now?” Fran asked carefully. Marla had been clear on the fact that she’d have to close her shop either way.

“Now?” Marla took a deep breath and straightened in place. Wearing her high heels she was just slightly taller than Fran, so she could lean down and leave a heart-stoppingly intimate kiss on the corner of the other woman’s lips. “I need to leave,” she whispered, finally a hint of pain cracked its way to the tone of her voice, and she immediately started taking the steps that would take her away from there, alone.

“Wait,” Fran said, turning around quickly and reaching out to hold Marla’s hand. She had to think, and quickly.

The two of them were almost complete opposites in some ways, but they also shared a great deal of things in common. Neither of them was sure if this was a blessing or a curse, if it made their interaction perfect or impossible. Fran knew that for nobody else she would have offered her hand this way, so soon, so easily. But in this situation, one of them had to.

“I still care about you, okay?” Fran confessed, squeezed Marla’s hand once, then let her go.

---

There was a lot of driving. That’s how Fran would describe the couple of days immediately after the failure at the court. She had quite a few errands to run and things to take care of, but she also simply enjoyed the driving around. When she drove her bike it was easier to quiet down her racing thoughts. Half of her mind on the road, and half of it on one issue at a time. There were plenty of issues though. Most of them had the indelible mark of one Marla Grayson. That might have been the reason that on so many of those long bike rides to clear her thoughts, the only thing Fran really achieved was failing to fool herself into thinking it was an accident how often she drove past Marla’s shop.

Three days later, she finally had a reason to stop by.

They were clearly emptying the store. It was mostly just Marla and Curtis with a truck waiting outside. By the time Fran parked, Marla noticed, and stood still outside the shop, observing the process, the death of her American dream. At first sight, Fran thought Marla still was the most beautiful woman she’d ever met. She was wearing comfortable clothes, her short hair held back in a little ponytail, and she’d clearly been working for a while. Fran wouldn’t say Marla looked like she was back to herself, back to the person she was before the fiasco at the court. That wouldn’t have been truthful. There was a significant change in Marla Grayson, Fran just had to figure it out. However, she did look strong and brilliant as ever, so she took that as a good sign as she approached her.

“Moving out?” Fran blurted out. She slowly walked closer, tilted her head, and squinted her eyes, the sun was unforgiving that day.

“I couldn’t have run a vape shop my whole life I guess,” Marla gave a half-hearted shrug in response. This wasn’t their best way to greet each other, they weren’t at their best, and the uneasiness around them was suffocating.

“Some you win, some you lose,” the brunette mumbled. It was nothing, a mindless repetitive phrase, but she should have seen the answer coming. Either way, she was glad to hear it.

“I don’t lose, Fran,” the other woman turned to look at her. “I won’t lose,” Marla added, looking back at the front of her dead store.

Fran nodded, holding back a smile, “Alright.”

This moment wasn’t entirely different from that first day. Attraction, chemistry, magnetism, something had pulled them to each other. Something had told them that if they could have easily gone to bed together that first night, maybe all could have ended the next morning. Something had clicked in their minds on that first conversation that convinced them that the other one was worth more than that. So they held back, and held on to each other, but how much longer could they wait before either giving up or crossing a line. Because their desire was obvious, but at this point, the risks were just as unavoidable. There was too much on the line, they were each getting too close to hearts that had chosen not to let anyone else in. One peek past the curtains they each held over the parts of themselves that weren’t carefully crafted weapons to face the world on that personal battle they each had picked, and it could all come crumbling down. How could they dare to try vulnerability? What if they liked it? How could they let each other in? How could they trust, and care? What if it worked? Going after something that could be perfect was too much of a risk. It would be easier to let go.

The problem, or rather salvation, was the fact that every time the idea of giving up popped in her mind, Marla was fiercely reminded of the fact that she simply doesn’t give up. She doesn’t lose. She’s determined to be successful. She’s confident in her ability to go for what she wants, but this one situation is way beyond that, isn’t it? Can she keep something, someone , and care for her as fiercely as she knows she could if only she wanted to? Could Fran be the one success she wants and needs more than she even realizes? Would Fran even want that?

This time it was Marla who reached out and caught Fran’s hand in hers and turned to look at her with unusual sincerity lighting up her blue eyes. “Thank you for everything, Fran,” she said.

The smile that Fran sent her way then was enough to make every risk worth it. “Don’t need to thank me,” Fran squeezed her hand once and started to pull away, seemingly satisfied with this interaction. It looked like both of them had reached a new understanding of what they wanted. “I’ll let you get back to work,” Fran added, not overjoyed to let go of the other woman’s hand.

“Oh, you’re not staying to help?” Marla called after her, a smile appearing on her lips.

Fran sent a playful grimace in the way of the shop. “Maybe next time,” she replied. They both laughed. Assuming Marla would have another business go bankrupt or not, either way, Fran would consider herself lucky to return and help her. “Call me,” she added, just a little more seriously, even if they were both still wearing matching smiles, “ when you’ll get in trouble again.” No need to pretend this was an “if” kind of situation.

---

The clothes were convenient. Marla just happened to have black pants and a black sweatshirt. The plan though, the plan was perfect, she knew that from the start. Of course, she hadn’t played fair from the beginning, but no one could know just how far she would go to come out as a winner. However, the fire behind her might be a good sign.

Marla simply couldn’t hold back her grin as she sneaked away from the big building. It had been surprisingly easy to set fire to the company that had ruined her business, now it was just a matter of finding out just how flammable vaping products were. She’d crafted a perfect plan, so she could pull it off only with Curtis’ help. The only trick was walking away separately, in opposite directions.

The fire, smoke, and the alarms behind her were a perfect backdrop and Marla had almost made it out and away from the crime scene when on the last alleyway she was thrown down to the ground.

“Fuck,” Marla cursed, ignoring the questions that the man, likely a security guard that was way too late to do his job, was trying to ask her. The fall wasn’t too bad, but he was raising his fist, and if he started to punch or kick her there on the ground, it couldn’t end well.

That’s when they were both blinded by sudden bright lights. There was an instant of panic in Marla’s heart, fearing she’d been too slow, she’d failed, the police had arrived first. Did they catch Curtis too? Was this her end?

“Hey, step away from her!” Fran yelled as she pushed the man away from Marla.

The man stumbled, but now that he was provoked he decided it was an excuse enough to hit two women. But he had no idea of the darkest tricks that Fran carried on her sleeve though. She was agile, clever, stronger than she looked like, and knowledgeable in exactly the right ways to leave a man unconscious in a matter of seconds without causing much damage.

There was a bit of silence after the stranger’s body hit the ground. Then Marla exclaimed, “Fran!” She sounded delighted, a little out of breath, completely marveled.

Marla was still on the ground, she’d observed the struggle with wide eyes, a glowing smile and, at first, a pang of fear for the other woman’s safety that later she would realize was a sign of how deep in trouble she truly was.

“Did you call for a ride?” Fran said to her, offering a hand to help her get up, “Couldn’t get you a getaway car, I hope my bike will be enough.”

She barely had time to finish her sentence. As soon as Marla was on her feet and eye to eye with the brunette she pulled her in into a long-overdue kiss. Her lips latched onto Fran’s eagerly, mindless of trying to mask how badly she wanted this. It was incredible the way relief and excitement sparked up like fireworks when their lips touched, again and again.

“Thank you,” Marla sighed, pulling back for a moment to stare in awe at the woman in her arms, gently brushing Fran’s wild hair off her face.

Fran tilted her head, held Marla closer, and said, “Arson, huh? Didn’t think that was your style.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I see,” Fran mumbled, their lips already meeting again. She couldn’t get enough of Marla, her lips moved instinctively, without holding back at all. Almost at the same time, they started to hear police sirens in the distance. “ Someone ,” Fran stole another kiss and pulled away, “should arrest you right now.”

Marla demanded another kiss, and when she slowly pulled away, her teeth teasingly pulled on Fran’s bottom lip. “You,” Marla whispered. She got somewhat distracted by moving to kiss down Fran’s jaw, then focusing on her neck, losing her mind over the sigh that escaped the woman’s lips, which in Marla’s mind sounded perfect coupled with the police sirens in the background. “Did you forget your handcuffs, officer?” Marla added in a playful tone, her hands desperately pulling Fran closer to her.

“I quit the police, Marla,” Fran announced with a breathy laugh prompted by a particular bite on her neck.

The news forced Marla to pull away, and this time she looked at Fran without even the slightest effort at disguising her desire. “Take me home right now,” Marla said very slowly, the sirens were getting closer.

Fran leaned in again and kissed her, much slower, not any less passionately. Her hand rested on Marla’s cheek, her nails grazed her gently. When she pulled back she was wearing that perfect smirk that drove the blonde crazy. She held Marla’s hand and pulled her toward the bike waiting behind them.

“It’s a better alibi for you if we go to my house instead,” Fran winked.

They drove away just as the police pulled over on the other street, completely oblivious to the couple of women that would get away that night with one of many little crimes they would commit together in their lifetime.

#plot twist! for once i don't give the character everything they want immediately! will totally make up for it in the next chapter #i care a lot #marla grayson #fran #i care a lot fanfic #marla x fran #ical #my fic

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gofancyninjaworld · 5 years ago

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watching ONE write women

One of the joys of following a writer for a while is that you get to follow how their ideas develop. One of the things that ONE brought up in an interview (annoyingly I’ve lost the link) was that he didn’t think that he wrote women particularly well.

I was thinking about that. When ONE says that, what comes across to me is that he has no problem writing a female character as an individual rather than a role. All the girls and women he’s written so far have their own voices, own their problems, and have something to do within the story that would be noticeable if they weren’t there. Quite frankly, that alone is over and above what various tests of representation (such as the Bechdel test) ask for.

What he’s not so good at is appreciating what being female brings to a character’s experiences and outlook. But he’s not just left it at that. More on what he’s been doing in a bit (and under the cut).

“...the law forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges...” -- Anatole France

With his sharp eye and talent for exploring the implications of whatever he posits, ONE has brought up some issues are not inherently gendered, but usually are.

A: Childcare

Metal Bat appears to be the main, if not sole, carer for Zenko. How it affects him is fascinating. He’s one of the longest-serving heroes in the Hero Association, being there before Class S was formed, literally within the first six months of its establishment. He’s been extremely loyal and is highly trusted by the HA -- they put Narinki’s life into his hands without fear. His battle strength is literally praised to the heavens.

Metal Bat makes Zenko a priority, structuring his availability around her school schedule and being present in her life. He gets very angry if these times are threatened without overwhelmingly good cause. His reward is to be perceived by the Hero Association as less committed and so they under-recognise him in terms of ranking, and since rank and pay are linked, under-pay him as well. It’s a story all too many women can relate to. But that’s not all.

Because ONE writes so simply yet conscientiously, something else comes up and has a peek: intersectionality. It’s the concept that we often have multiple social disadvantages that interact and compound our problems. The first is sexism. Regardless of whatever childcare policy the HA has, the sexist assumption that only women care (for the record: this is bullshit) makes it unlikely for them to ask Metal Bat. Second, social capital. The fact that he’s Zenko’s sole carer means that he has low social capital, that informal network of people around you who can help out -- or tell you where to find help and what things to say in order to get that help. [Aside: this is why programmes to help people, unless they reach out aggressively, tend to disproportionately attract those who need it least.] Metal Bat doesn’t have the knowledge. The third is the challenge brought by his being a 17-year old boy. He’s quick to perceive challenge as threat, and threat as something to be met by anger. Witness him threatening to smash the HA headquarters if it turns out that he’s missed Zenko’s piano recital for nothing -- completely not useful to anything. [Another aside: the importance of learning to disambiguate emotions and do useful things with them even if it means being vulnerable as a part of growing up as a man is the whole point of Mob Psycho 100.]

What do the Neo Heroes do? They ask Metal Bat if he wants help with childcare AND HE JUMPS SHIP PRONTO. If that’s not an indictment of the Hero Association, I don’t know what is.

B: Emotional Labour

Saitama has been delegating more and more of the day-to-day work to Genos. What started as an act of service to express his gratitude, respect and love for Saitama is increasingly turning into a second job for Genos. It’s not just the cooking and cleaning and the shopping and the bailing Saitama out if he’s forgotten his wallet again, it’s also the worrying about Saitama, sometimes at inappropriate times. Has he drunk enough water? Has he clean clothes in good repair? What sales is he looking forward to? Have they been marked on the calendar? It’s honestly not doing Genos any good, and it’s one of those things all too many frustrated wives and girlfriends can relate to. This doing the practical and emotional work for another is not intrinsically gendered, but funny how often it breaks that way.

It’s not doing Saitama any good either. He’s using this freed up time to fritter his life ever more aggressively away, playing games with King and finding pointless competitions to enter, all while complaining about feeling less and less connected to anything (if you don’t address the problem, it doesn’t get better, duh!). Worse, he’s started to take that gift of service for granted, witness him airily telling King how he’ll just have Genos go clear up the mess of monsters he’s left outside the flat. I was heartened to see what happened when Saitama went a little too far and asked Genos to go cook and instead of jumping up, Genos gave him the the evil eye and let the awkwardness hang there. That was good -- there’s hope for this guy yet.

Speaking of Genos, he also over-functions for something else Saitama struggles with: advocating for himself. He tends to have Genos be the ugly one so he doesn’t have to be. You can see just how bad he is at self-advocacy when Forte and friends could invite themselves into Saitama’s house at will despite his protests -- and it stopped the instant Genos showed up.

In a sense, it’s not surprising that Genos can do that. When you’re differently-abled (and for once, this is not a euphemism) as he is, being able to clearly ask for what you want and need is life-and-death necessary. If Genos was shy about it, he’s long since had to discard that. But! Let me point to a nuance the story touches on. How pushy you can be without being punished for it depends a lot on who you are, intersecting strongly with race, gender, social status, etc (remember my mentioning intersectionality before). What’s called assertive in a man is called bitchy or sharp-elbowed in a woman. Even taking gender and race out of the equation, there’s still a noticeable difference in the way the world treats Saitama and Genos. You don’t need to be Sigmund Freud to understand the way the short, ugly Dr. Kuseno sweats making sure that Genos positively radiates youth, beauty, wealth and power. That’s part of his right to ask and be taken seriously. You can see how drastically different it is for Saitama, even from his middle school days. Genos notices, and makes sure to leverage his social power for Saitama.

What I love about these examples are that by not automatically heaving a woman into these characters’ roles, ONE’s brought a less frequently seen angle that illustrates the problems they deal with are not ‘womens’ issues per se but are rather inequities that disproportionately affect women -- which is at the heart of what feminists keep saying. When you read Makai no Ossan, you can appreciate that ONE could have gone with female characters and done a great job, but his choosing not to has brought a very welcome dimension to the story.

Women proper

“I’m not like other girls”

Still, bit by bit, ONE has been working more women into his stories. After his interview, the next thing he worked on was the single-volume sequel to Mob Psycho 100, Reigen. He took his challenge head-on by making the POV character Tome and putting her in an all-girls’ high school.

Throughout the story, we see Tome thinking of herself as special, better than her fellow classmates, whom she sees as vapid and shallow. The denouement comes with Tome being humbled as she gets to know her classmates better and realises that they pursue interests just as varied and weird as hers -- only they’re also practicing being socially adept on top of that.

It’s a gentle story, but it’s still a great side-swipe at self-internalised misogyny, the idea that it’s shameful to be like a ‘girl’ and it’s something to distance oneself from. Fortunately, Tome can laugh at herself and grow up.

“Ha ha ha”

For a long time, the only (named) women we had in OPM were Tatsumaki and her younger sister Fubuki. We’ve gotten more women both good and bad: in particular, it’s been very gratifying to find that one of the most dangerous, story-shaping villains in the story is Psykos.

In the webcomic, ONE’s pushed even further. A recent Tweet featured him talking about how hard he finds it to draw women. And he’s added several. No same-face for him! I’ll talk about the new heroines he’s added, but first, let me draw your attentions to something most artists don’t realize they do: massively skew the gender distribution of crowds, even when it is incredibly illogical to do so. With ONE, even drawing the crowds at the fair who gaggle at Amai Mask, he’s got a far more even balance of women and they’re not all young and pretty -- which is much more true-to-life. He’s in the business of drawing people.

ONE has featured microaggressions before, particularly in the way Fubuki can have perfectly sound things to say and be totally ignored, but he brings it properly to the fore with Suiko. No one calls her incompetent, but the little put downs she gets when she puts herself forward for the hero test in lieu of her brother, oh they’re well-observed The look on her face just makes it. I love the way she shut the recruiters up subsequently.

Let’s conclude this tour with a look at Webigaza’s lonely figure. We have another mono-manically focused cyborg in the story. Genos has been called a lot of things -- determined, obsessive even, but crazy? Never. Notice who it’s been reserved for instead. It’s no slip of the tongue.

Wrapping Up

I’m of the impression that ONE really wants to try to capture as much of the human experience as he can in his stories, however whimsical or fantastical the stories themselves are. I’m disarmed by his humility in accepting that he’ll never have the lived experience of half the world’s population but he sure as hell can put some effort into learning how to to writing well-realised, believable, female characters.

I watch ONE’s continued development as a writer with interest.

#OPM #Reigen #ONE #meta #long #women #female characters #I like that ONE treats women not as creatures whose problems and experiences can't possibly be understood #but as people first and foremost #perfect? No and who is #ongoing and adding to his understanding -- yes

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lopez-richter-fangirl · 4 years ago

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That time of year again...

Okay so as I said I had honestly figured I was done with the analysis posts after the engagement ones because the reason I did them to begin with was *analysis* of the subtle meaning and what they wanted to say but didn’t, and finally this year Joey DID say everything he wanted to 🥺 So it was actually kind of touching to me that people still wanted to hear my rant-y thoughts about the post 😂 So here they are! And with how much things have changed, I had a very good look at the last couple years’ posts for comparison...

First that opening. He KNOWS what he does to us every year and he’s always too excited about it. But calling her queen again as he should

Then straight in with Lo like last year I DO NOT NEED IT

Then we got a LOT of common themes going on. Being in awe of her resilience. Inspiring him. Her humility and empathy, three years running now. Honestly that’s what hit me hard with this post, is that it is in a lot of ways *not at all different* to previous years, except this one is completely unveiled love and pride (but it really was obvious enough before will never understand how anyone mistook is for just friendship). Back to the point!

For some reason the ‘you see’ really gets me with the ‘always’. Like this boy’s known her for so long? He’s seen all these qualities in her that he loves so much? And he’s going to go into length to tell us all about them? No one is as extra as him but I love him for it

The heart eyes after “deeply admire” can fuck right off. But again, remember when he used that emoji last year after talking about being in awe of her? 🙄 And admitting that he tries to emulate her makes me soft but to ‘varying degrees of success’ because he could never be as perfect as her? (But also because he’s previously said she’s a positive influence to the people she cares about and he’s the person she cares about most 😭)

I don’t even want to talk about the next part. It makes me mad. When I said I wanted them to be more comfortable and open talking about their life together I did NOT mean ‘I provide foot massages 😎’. JOEY. Stop flexing that you’re a great fiancé we get it

‘I already know she’s gonna HATE me’ stfu she could not. But she HAS to know all these incredible things about herself because he LOVES HER 😭😭 He loves her THAT much 😭😭 The ‘no shit’ part of my brain does not know how to make its voice heard over the ‘HE LOVES HER!!!!’ part and that’s something I’ll have to deal with forever

Then he does the fucking thing I hate of switching to ‘you’s like she’s RIGHT there just tell her don’t hurt me

Wow the last sentence. My god. First thanking her for being the mother of his daughter I just— That’s basically what he’s been saying whenever he’s mentioned her being a mother to Diane before but it’s never been so direct as this and I can’t deal. Especially not because she’s the reason he became a dad and met his baby girl when he might never have got a dog otherwise. Nope

And then. AND THEN. He just really went to prove there’s no way of being prepared fir them now because despite being *certain* we’d see ‘future wife’, it was still a straight shot of adrenaline upon reading those words. We fucking KNEW he was going to do it. But I still can’t believe it. And my brain still won’t stop screaming about it. She’s going to be his FUTURE WIFE. LAUREN LOPEZ. JOEY RICHTER’S WIFE. Also that last year the thing he was grateful for was the heavy metaphor of being on her team, this year it’s getting to be her HUSBAND

And of course, we can’t forget the hashtags

The upgrade from BirthdayGirl to BirthdayBabe. Obsessing over her haircut LIKE ALL OF US but I love that he loves’ it. ‘She’s out of my league’ said this yesterday but TOO DAMN RIGHT JOEY BUT YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER. And ‘she would want me to stop now’ because he respects the shit out of her but he really could go on for pages

#i also didn’t mention the picture which just #knowing it’s from their walk which they do every day but joey still managed to make this one feel special #and that they just hung out together all day?? the same way they will forever????#wait i forgot #the squirrel emoji?#it’s jonathan he loves how much she loves jonathan

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notquitedailyamy · 4 years ago

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Black and Yellow

Since visiting Derek Jarman’s Prospect Cottage in Dungeness last month, I’ve sat down on several occasions intending to share the experience with you. But distilling my thoughts wasn’t easy! The place left my head so full of thoughts and stirred a lot of emotion in me, and transcribing the singular magic of it into words felt beyond me. Each time I’d lose the tousle with my brain, and clap the laptop shut again.

Then I found the following starting point; a quote from Howard Sooley, photographer and friend of Derek Jarman, that described the setting I found myself in, on arrival to the cottage, perfectly.

“Pulling up on Dungeness Road, I stared out of the car window on to a post-apocalyptic nuclear vision: a long, snaking road strung with a line of black fishermen’s cottages like tar-covered fairy lights; a beach strewn in a mess of seemingly abandoned fishing boats and huts, which looked like they’d just tumbled from the sky and landed randomly among the sea kale that inhabited the beach.

— Howard Sooley for Gardens Illustrated

And now, I think, with that striking scene set, I can continue...

Discovering Derek Jarman

On one particular stay at my aunt and uncle’s house in Cheltenham years ago, there was an addition to the mantelpiece in my bedroom: a dried sprig of sea kale in a narrow white vase. My aunt recounted how she and my uncle had lately travelled to Dungeness, a headland on the coast of Kent, and how she had found the pretty bit of plant blowing across the shingle there. They had been to see the cottage and garden of a man whose name I did not then recognise, Derek Jarman; “a very special place”. And, I was told that in the front room there was a book entitled Derek Jarman’s Garden, from which I could learn more.

From my aunt’s introductory account, to each article and interview I have since read or watched regarding Derek Jarman since, I have found him only to be described in the fondest, most admiring manner. Those who are aware of his story, or who were lucky enough to have had their lives directly touched by him, laud his generous spirit and remain in awe of his remarkable array of talents, from film-maker to set designer, from optimist to activist, from gardener to diarist and author. He is remembered not only as being one of the most influential figures of 20th century culture, but also for his breathtaking humility, prolific activism for gay rights (via protest as well as his artistic output - much of which served as a manifesto for open homosexuality), inspiration and support for young and aspiring film makers and creatives. Award-winning costume designer and friend of Jarman’s Sandy Powell sums up his inherent warmth of character and contagious passion for whatever he turned his hand to in a recent interview with Phillips Auction House:

“Derek said to me that there was absolutely no point in going to work every day unless you went with the same excitement as if you were going to a party. With him, I’d get to work every morning and I would be so excited about going to work.

[...] He just immediately made you feel comfortable, and you were never ever made to feel inferior. Even on a film set, he’d be sat there, waiting for the next setup, and I remember there were times when he would ask the person who was sweeping the floor of the set what he thought. He’d talk aloud about his ideas. He’d set something up and say, "What do you think about that? Should we do this?" and he’d actually listen to what that person had to say. Anybody. He’d listen to what any of us had to say, and I think we were all treated completely equally"

— Sandy Powell, interviewed by Phillips

My aunt located her copy of Derek Jarman’s Garden for me later that day - a smallish, unassuming publication, on the verge of being swallowed up by the heaving art library that surrounded it (my uncle and aunt are both artists themselves). I was enthralled by it, poring the pages for the rest of my stay.

Having spotted a ‘for sale’ sign whilst filming close by, Derek Jarman sought refuge in his Dungeness fisherman’s cottage after being diagnosed as HIV positive in 1986. He dedicated himself to creating a paradisiacal and sustaining garden in the salty, exposed shingle which skirted his new home.

“Dungeness was England through the looking glass, not William Blake’s bucolic vision of a Jerusalem in this ‘green and pleasant land’. Stark, barren, the sun searing down or rain whipping across the landscape – everything seemed to be dying. Bleached by the sun, ripped by the wind, eaten by salt, laid bare and exposed by the enormity of the sky. A world stripped to its bones, abandoned and motionless except for the dried seedheads of sea kale blowing like tumbleweed in the shadow of the power station. The images are etched in my memory.”

— Howard Sooley for Gardens Illustrated

...a pretty tall task then . But that’s what he did. Choosing a spectrum of plants that could stand up to the testing climes of his “Ness”, largely low-lying to endure high winds, others that were already indigenous of the area, Derek Jarman transformed Prospect Cottage into a defiant monument of imagination and hope.

An unforgettable day in Dungeness

Gradually the landscape flattened, the villages became fewer and further between, then villages became hamlets, and then there was nobody, save the odd remote farmhouse - we wondered how far they must have to travel for groceries! Then human presence came almost to a standstill, and it felt like we had gatecrashed a sci-fi movie set. Fencing lined the road, periodic signs warning people away from the military firing range, still not a soul to be seen. We weren’t tempted to trespass - it was all pretty spooky!

And then, on the horizon, a giant appeared. The jagged grey silhouette of Dungeness A and Dungeness B - not one, but two massive nuclear power stations. We popped Boards of Canada on the stereo. I challenge you for a better accompaniment to such a sight.

“The nuclear power station is a wonderment. At night it looks like a great liner or a small Manhattan ablaze with a thousand lights of different colour.”

— Derek Jarman, from Derek Jarman’s Garden

We continued along the silent road a while longer, and then suddenly it was there. Years of wondering about the garden, and then there it was, right there, just by the side of the road... no fence, no gate, no borders or barriers of any kind. No separation from the outside at all.

I was relieved to see a handful of people around, though it still felt astonishingly desolate. We pulled up right outside the cottage, amazed it was that easy.

A jewel in the string of tiny rustic dwellings, and a David to the looming Goliath backdrop of the two nuclear plants, Prospect Cottage bursts with vitality and vibrance. Emanating a kind of otherworldly, magical quality, it flourishes where all else is bleak, tangerine coloured Californian poppies and sunshine yellow window frames laughing proudly.

“At first, people thought I was building a garden for magical purposes – a white witch out to get the nuclear power station. It did have magic – the magic of surprise, the treasure hunt.”

— Derek Jarman, from Derek Jarman’s Garden

Just as there are no borders, there are no strict lines or flower beds to speak of. Santolina, valerian and the odd red hot poker rise straight from the sea-worn shingle floor, while sea kale sprawls in patches. Hemispheres of gorse and vertically pegged driftwood add degrees of height, while talismanic stone circles and flotsam sculptures ensure the eye is never short of interest. Jarman would comb the beach every morning for new metal treasures, rocks and interesting things washed up by the sea. He’d always reap the biggest rewards following a storm.

“The stones, especially the circles, remind me of dolmens, standing stones. They have the same mysterious power to attract.”

— Derek Jarman, from Derek Jarman’s Garden

“The sticks and sculptures [...] also had the unexpected gift of providing much-welcomed perches for the migratory birds that navigate over the ness every year. Rare warblers from Russia would stand and catch their breath, staring in at the kitchen window. Then, without warning, they’d lift into the air, catch the wind and be off again to some far and distant land.”

— Howard Sooley for Gardens Illustrated

^ Derek Jarman also scoured the land around the nuclear power plant for bits and pieces to use in the garden, some of it detritus from the Second World War

Already I had felt the enchantment of Derek Jarman’s living legacy exuding from those pages of my aunt’s book, but experiencing it in the flesh was on a different level. It’s as though he left a message there, everlastingly poised and waiting to be received by anyone who visits.

Standing amidst such a unique and spectacular achievement, by a man who had been dealt such a cruel fate, made me feel incredibly appreciative for all that I have, all that is so easy for me. His life was cut too short, but undoubtedly lived more fully than many who have reached a much older age.

It also gave me new confidence that in my own creativity I am doing something worthwhile, and that by staying true to myself and not allowing conformity to stifle my output, I can add my own dose of originality and something truly unique to the world.

^ Poppy seed heads

“He was just really encouraging to all young people, and I think that’s what this house could be. It’s this really open house to encourage people to come and be creative and get as much as they can out of it, and I think he would have wanted that.”

— Sandy Powell, interviewed by Phillips

^ Indigenous sea kale

Long live the legacy

The future of Prospect Cottage was recently left up in the air following the passing of Keith Collins, Derek’s companion during his years in Dungeness, and in whose hands he left the cottage following his death in 1994.

The Art Fund launched a campaign to save the property from being sold off and falling into private ownership. The £3.5 million required was raised in just ten weeks.

“Securing the future of Prospect Cottage may seem a minor thing by comparison with the global epidemic crisis which has recently enveloped all our lives. But Derek Jarman’s final years at the Cottage were an inspiring example of human optimism, creativity and courage battling against the ravages of illness. In that context, the success of this campaign seems all the more apposite and right for its time.”

— Stephen Deuchar, Director of Art Fund

“Prospect Cottage will become not a memorial encased in amber, but an active memory. Not an ossified monument, but a breathing testament to a life still awaiting future collaborators”

— Douglas Fogle for Art Forum

^ The frontward outlook of Prospect Cottage

The whole place is jaw-droppingly unique, the garden itself a post-modern feat of ingenuity. Eerie, exciting, bleak, inspiring... only describable to a point. I implore you not to trust my interpretation and instead go and marvel at it for yourself! And prepare to have it stay with you long after...

Suitable Song -

Annie Lennox’s performance of “Every Time We Say Goodbye” from the AIDS fundraising album Red Hot & Blue. The video features footage of Derek Jarman as a child.

youtube

Sources -

https://www.gardensillustrated.com/gardens/country/howard-sooley-prospect-cottage-derek-jarman/?image=1&type=gallery&gallery=2&embedded_slideshow=2

https://www.artforum.com/slant/douglas-fogle-on-derek-jarman-s-imperiled-prospect-cottage-82157

https://wildabouthere.com/derek-jarmans-garden/

https://www.artlyst.com/news/derek-jarmans-prospect-cottage-saved-nation/

https://www.phillips.com/article/54833655/sandy-powell-derek-jarman-charity-auction-prospect-cottage

#derek jarman #gardens #gardening #inspiration #creative minds #art fund #derek jarman's garden #sandy powell #howard sooley #dungeness #shingle

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theashen-fox · 4 years ago

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The Basics (Bear in mind, this is for the Main! Ash, although certain parts can be carried over into different verses).

Legal Name: Ash Vulpes

Nickname/Alias: Derogatory-Grayfox (Traitor, in his country’s vernacular). Affectionate-Little Fox (he likes when people call him such, at least). Preferred Codename-V

Birthday: June 27 (I don’t remember how the RWBY universe’s timeline goes, but he’s old enough to be 19-25)

Birthplace: Northern Mistral/Anima (the Kingdom being the former and the country being the latter).

Sex/Gender/Race: Cis-Male/Faunus

Preferred Pronouns: He/him

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual (bordering on pan)

Spoken Languages: English, Latin, Italian, Japanese, German (or the Remnant equivalents).

A History Lesson

Education: For most of his childhood, he was taught by his uncle and his brother how to survive, fight, etc., then was educated for the rest of his teen years. During this time, he was an avid reader, showing proficient knowledge in history, philosophy, psychology, and literary studies.

Who were they in school?: The “Quiet Kid.”

What occupation did they want growing up?: N/A

What occupation do they have now?: Huntsman

Socioeconomic Level Growing Up: Varying in his childhood, as he and his brother were essentially nomadic after they left their uncle, middle-class during his teen years.

Socioeconomic Level Now: Average for a Huntsman.

Living conditions growing up: Very poor in his childhood, as he and his brother were limited to traveling through dirty, crime-ridden villages and cold, dangerous forests. In his teen years, his living conditions improved to relatively normal.

Living conditions now: Normal, more or less.

Criminal Record: Burglary, theft, multiple counts of homicide (most done under Huntsman contracts, in defense of himself or another person), manslaughter, and so on.

Relationships

Parents: Deceased

Sibling: Silver Vulpes (deceased)

Significant Other: Verse-dependent

Ex-Significant Others: N/A

Children: N/A

Best Friends: His team, Harlequin, Lucius and Nysus.

Pets: N/A

Rivals: N/A

Enemies: Adam Taurus, The White Fang, Salem, Pale Vulpes (uncle)

Let’s Get Physical

Character’s Build: Slender, lightly muscular, just enough to be quick and agile but not enough to be incredibly strong.

Height: Roughly 5’5”

Hair Color/Style: Light-grey, unkempt.

Eye Color: Dull yellow.

Body Modifications: N/A

Scars/Birthmarks: His body is covered with scars, many old, some newer due to both the dangerous place he grew up in and his current line of work.

Powers/Abilities: Skilled martial artist/swordsman, skilled in archery/knife-throwing, moderate skill with firearms, intelligent, adaptable, observant, high pain threshold, agile/fast/stealthy. Fox ears allow for superhuman hearing, along with eyes allowing night vision (which all Faunus have anyway). Semblance allows him to heat up objects/people/air around him within seven feet or by touching them.

Restrictions: Semblance can cause him to catch on fire if he uses it too much for too long. He can fight with agility, speed, dirty tricks, etc., but his physical strength is lacking. He can also be affected by too much noise, even overwhelmed by it. His skill in firearms is not much to write home about, i.e., it’s a part of training in Combat Schools, but if you were to put a gun in his hands and tell him to shoot something, whether he’d hit it or not is a toss-up.

Physical or Mental Illnesses: PTSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Insomnia, (possible) Paranoid Personality Disorder.

Addictions: N/A

The Juicy Stuff

Vice(s): Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath Virtue(s): Chastity / Temperance / Charity / Diligence / Forgiveness / Humility / Kindness Religion: Atheist Alignment: Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic || Good / Neutral / Evil Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Element: Fire Character Tropes: Ask a Stupid Question... Animal Stereotypes, Anti-Hero (Type III-Pragmatic Hero), Big Brother Worship, Combat Pragmatist, Cunning Like A Fox, Deadpan Snarker, It’s All My Fault, Inferiority-Superiority Complex, Jack-of-all-Trades, Justified Criminal, It Never Gets Any Easier, Stepford Smiler/Snarker, Technical Pacifist, Tranquil Fury, etc.

#reblog #about muse #headcanons

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sidhelives · 4 years ago

Text

2020 Fics in Review

No one tagged me, so I'm tagging myself. Tagging @hezjena2023 as well.

I wrote a bit this year. While I technically started writing in October of 2019 all of WolfHunt was rewritten and reposted in 2020. Which means everything I have written on AO3 was written in 2020. For this I'll only be using works posted on AO3 not things written which have not been posted.

Sounds good?

Good.

Overall Stats

Total Words Written: 194,992

Total fics completed: 32

Average words per month: 16,249

Average words per fic: 6,093

Ongoing Fics/Series:

WolfHunt - Dragon Age; 14 chapters/59,425 words

Pathfinder Chronicles - Mass Effect Andromeda

Relocation - 1,401 words

The Scars - 1,995 words

Ill Fortune or (The Unfortunate Birth, and Subsequent Lamentable Life of Hypetia Amell) - Dragon Age; 5 chapters/11,399 words

Ill Fortune - Supplementary Works - Dragon Age; 3 chapters/1,813 words

Listen Closely - Skyrim; 4 chapters/9,459 words

Harlequin Eyes - Dragon Age; NSFW; 5 works/12,280 words

A Chance Encounter - Kinktober; 1,715 words

A Test - Kinktober; 1,175 words

This is How it Starts - 2,830 words

The Inquisitor's Intentions - 2 chapters/4,366 words

It Seems the Game has Changed - Fluffcember; 2,538 words

Completed Fics/Series

Dance Lesson - Dragon Age; 268 words

Reunion - Mass Effect; 3,564 words

Momentary Distractions - Dragon Age; 1,458 words

A Cool Harvestmere Morning - Dragon Age; 1,180 words

Anders in Over his Head - Dragon Age; NSFW

Fraternization - 5,642 words

Party of Three - 5,153 words

Four's a Crowd - 3 chapters/7,734 words

What's in the box, Shepard? - Mass Effect; 1,987 words

Pride and Humility - Collected Solavellan Shorts - Dragon Age; 25 chapters/27,256 words

Solavellan Tarot Challenge - Dragon Age; 22 chapters/22,296 words

A Dark Ritual - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 4,472 words

A Late Night Visit - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 1,095 words

A Clever Ruse - Dragon Age; NSFW; Kinktober; 1,715 words

You're Going to Love It - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,166 words

Take My Hands - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,164 words

Of Course I Remembered - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 2,019 words

Don't Look at Them. Look at Me. - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,983 words

Well Worth the Travel, and the Snow - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 1,558 words

This is el Aperitivo - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 883 words

Leather and Lace - Dragon Age; Gift for Jukkari; 2,036 words

Oh Good, You're Here - Dragon Age; Fluffcember; 2,591 words

New things I tried this year:

Everything really. Prior to 2020 I had only written WolfHunt so new things included:

Lavellan/Blackwall

Amell/Zevran

Anders/So many damn people

Solvelyan

Femslash (just a little at the end)

Smut

I hadn't written anything explicit in 10+ years and back in the day I focused primarily on M/M. I jumped in with both feet though and people seem to like the stuff I write so huzzah.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Long Fic:

WolfHunt for sure. Almost 60,000 words is a lot of time and I kind of go cross-eyed when I think about how much is left in the story I want to tell.

Honorable mention goes to Ill Fortune, not because of how much time I spent writing but because of the time I spent plotting out the timeline. I know where Pet, Aria, and Des are basically through their entire lives.

Short Fic:

Four's a Crowd for sure. Writing two people having sex is an arduous process for me, but four?! There are so many bodies to deal with. It became super overwhelming and I could only work in it in short bursts.

Fic I spent the least time on:

Long Fic:

Pathfinder Chronicles. I got super inspired and then it just dropped away. I'd love to write more Sara! I have a lot of fun with my slowly self redeeming fuck-up, I just need to figure out how to format it and keep motivation up.

Short Fic:

Weighting length with time (so I don't just automatically say the shortest one) I'd go with A Clever Ruse. It was goofy and comical and disconnected from anything that mattered and it just moved very quickly, even accounting for the smut part slowing me down as they do.

Favorite thing I wrote this year:

Long Fic:

Listen Closely for sure. I'd never even considering writing outside my BioWare bubble when the idea occurred to me and I fell in love with the idea. Also it's incredibly fun writing crazy people.

Short Fic:

It might be cheating but Anders in Over his Head. The series reminded me how much I love Anders, and I really do, I also love writing him. Tortured male POV is kind of my jam and Anders fits there so we'll while also being a snarky ass which makes for good banter (my favorite thing to write).

Favorite thing I read this year:

Ashamedly, I don't read much. I want to get better about it in 2021 but for now I'll just list my favorite things I did read (all on AO3:

Flemeth's New Look by attack_on_feels

How Loud Your Heart Gets by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

Like Veilfire by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

That Girl Is Like A Sunburn by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard

Eyes Wide Shut by queenofkadara

Fall Into The Tide by queenofkadara

I just realized those are like all porn. Oops.

I also started reading The Keening Blade by Arsinoe de Blassenville which is on fanfiction.net. It's very long so I haven't finished it but I am really enjoying.

Things I want to work on in 2021:

Finishing WolfHunt is a top priority. I don't feel like I can fully commit to another long form DA fic (like the world I'm building out in Ill Fortune and Harlequin Eyes) until I get that one done.

Expanding more into other fandoms. Mass Effect primarily but also exploring other fandoms that I have a lot of love for. Dragon Age is my wheel house: I know it well and I'm comfortable with it, so I'll never leave it behind but the fun I've had with Listen Closely has made me consider branching out.

MORE FEMSLASH. I love ladies and I love ladies loving ladies but I've barely touched f/f relationships. I am planning a Femslash February event so that will open the door.

I have a whole to do list to get to as well 😅

In Conclusion

I can't believe how much I accomplished in 2020. It feels like I've been writing for years, not just the one. I've found a community in fic writing that I never dreamed of, friends and support I never thought I would have. Most of all it makes me so happy. Writing is one of the few things I do for myself, my personal life very much revolves around other people, and knowing that other people find joy in the things I create is the best feeling in the world. So if you read my stuff, if you comment or give kudos:

Thank you.

Ma bal'venhan serannas.

#fanfiction #2020wrapup #2020 wrap up #boy that's a lot of words

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