#the one tumblr coded sexy man I want so bad

[uukipi]

Until his snow is conned ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[stoopid-turtle]

made-up thoughts about dd's gender presentation

Okay, the gender post! Honestly, dd's gender presentation is something I think about a lot (ok, I just think about everything dd-related a lot), so here's a post about it. A couple disclaimers on the way down though.

Gender is weird

Um, so gender is complicated and deep. I'm not gonna delve into that too much. Just know I'm not saying much about dd's gender identity, because that's too speculative for me and I don't tend to analyze how people might feel their gender inside.

So this is all about gender expression or performance. The way he presents himself to the world. This includes stuff like clothing, ways of talking, makeup, mannerisms, etc. Anything we can see when we watch him.

For those more into the advanced gender convo, yes yes, gender is a social construct and there's nothing inherent about, say, a tuxedo that makes it a "man's" outfit. Fully onboard with that. But for simplicity's sake, let's shortcut to acting as if we buy into how society genders random stuff so as to recognize that a tux is "male-coded" by just about every society in the present day. Everybody swims in these waters, and they perform their gender with the understanding of how their society assigns these arbitrary gender assignments, so let's just deal with that for this convo. /obligatory gender theorist disclaimer

East vs West

I'm in the US, and I fully recognize that there are different norms for gender in Eastern cultures. A lot of the things that read as "feminine" to Western eyes is more neutral in the East, such as long hair or makeup. (I've read a fantastic tumblr post that went into this in-depth but, alas, I can't find it now. You will notice throughout this post that I am extraordinarily bad at refinding things)

On top of that, idols, in specific, often have quite feminine stylings to Western standards. In the East, the vibe I get is that idols are seen as more androgynous (though still threatening to some forms of masculinity).

I can only speak from my own very westernized perspective, so take it with as much salt as you want. I reserve the right to change my mind about everything later, anyway.

Basically, I have 3 main points here, starting with:

1. DD's early styling was more femme than he would ordinarily gravitate to

There's a moment I think about a lot. This one, specifically, set a month and a half after UNIQ's debut. The band is on a Chinese talk show and the host enthuses about them.

(also, baby DD rapping Love the Way You Lie is just....well, it's a thing that happened) (some US context: Love The Way You Lie was an Issue Song pointedly about domestic violence with Rihanna - an artist who had been a victim of a highly publicized dv assault - as the chorus singer and Eminem - a rapper with a history of misogynist lyrics (with a song about murdering his ex-gf) - doing the rap. It had a weirdly sexy music video with that lotr guy and was also a thing that happened)

DD is 17 years old here--a baby--and he's, frankly, adorable. He notes that he's been training for 4 years (I'm so curious about what idol training looks like, tbh), which wows the host.

But the part that I think about a lot is when the host expounds at length about how beautiful and like a girl dd is. DD has a girl's hairstyle (i've had that exact hairstyle at multiple points in my life), and the host says at various points that he's "more beautiful than girls", that girls will envy him, that he is very very pretty, that if she were a man, she would fall in love with him. The basic upshot here is that much is made of his feminine looks, and I get the vibe that his styling is more femme than typical, even for an idol.

At the same time, I think about this moment of dd in a dance competition in 2011, before his debut. DD's main passion has always been dancing, and he went into hiphop dancing, as shown here. He also attempted breakdancing while younger, though an early injury apparently kept him from going that route (I swear I've heard this somewhere, but can't find where. Link me if you know).

DD was interested in the more macho-types of street dances. Hiphop isn't as dominated by men as breaking is, but it's still has more of a masculine culture than jazz or, you know, waacking.

I think a lot about a kid who wanted to spend his life dancing, who went through idol training to debut as the femme maknae of a group. It was a weird fit for him, and I think his movement away from that initial look reflects that.

At the same time, I want to go back to something I find significant about his talk show appearance.

When asked who is most popular among girls, everybody (dd included) points to dd. (A bandmate also jokes that dd is most popular among men). A 17-year-old kid who just debuted a little over a month ago with a femme style is already getting fawned over by fans and older female hosts. However weird it could be, it's gotta be a huge ego-boost at a formative time to get the positive feedback to that look.

I think (and putting on my speculation hat here) that this is important for dd's performance of gender as he gets older.

Which brings me to the next main point:

2. DD enjoyed his more feminine idol look bc he knew it made him attractive

I suspect dd came to some acceptance of the more femme styling (once he moved away from the white peony look) primarily because it got him so much fawning.

I imagine idol training goes into how to create a public persona for oneself, especially given how much idols are supposed to reveal of themselves. Letting fans feel that they're getting an intimate look at the real person, while still maintaining the privacy of their actual personal life, is a skill, and I expect it's second-nature to dd at this point given how long he's been in the industry.

This isn't to say that dd's fake or that the dd we see publicly isn't "really" him. But it is a carefully presented version of him that intentionally keeps his private life private.

There's really 2 periods where we probably see the most authentic, unfiltered dd: the early UNIQ days, when he was still getting the hang of the ent industry (though that's complicated in that he was also young and under pressure to perform a certain way and had not developed the skills/experience/cache to set limits, hence him doing a lot more cutesy stuff that he refuses to do as he gets older); and the bts footage for CQL, as he did not expect those to be so widely seen. Even the unscripted stuff like DDU and SDC allows for some intentional presentation of himself in a way the more candid bts moments did not.

That's a bit of a digression, actually, but it's important because I think this public persona, especially the idol persona, is more femme than dd would normally style himself (as in, how he would style himself if he weren't an entertainer). The result of this is that we see some contexts, such as the CQL fanmeetings where dd wears women's outfits, where that idol style is intentionally deployed. Part of the point of fanmeetings is fanservice, and dd's feminine presentation, linked as it is to his idol image, is wholly about pleasing the fans.

There's reason to believe that dd was never too much into those stylings because he intrinsically enjoyed them. He's said multiple times in interviews that he prefers going without makeup. This isn't too telling because, hey, makeup can be uncomfortable to wear. Especially stage makeup.

But there's an interesting compilation of interview clips where dd reveals his complete lack of even any interest in makeup, referring curious interviewers to talk to his makeup artist and explicitly associating makeup with women (I have looked everywhere for this. I swear I saw this compilation on YouTube but now I can't find it. This is unfortunate bc this particular video really made me think about dd's gender presentation). And of course, his attempt to do someone else's makeup was...adorable. This is not a guy who wears makeup for the joy of it. He wears it because it's part of his job.

This isn't to say that dd looks down on it. Not at all. We only have to look at his defensiveness of the idol look to gg during the bts to see this. I don't think he's at all bothered by makeup. He just accepts it as part of his career.

(I have a completely made-up story in my head about how gg's preference for no-makeup dd was a major romantic thing bc it's gg liking the real dd, not the idol persona that everybody else fawns over. And how, once dd realized that gg was paying him a compliment, it gave him big feels. This story is definitely not real)

This all is gonna lead me to my last main point:

3. DD's probably okay taking on a more masculine style now bc it fits more how he would naturally dress himself

Like millions of other people, I really dig the idol look. When I was doing my initial dive into turtledom and read about some of the Chinese censorship of idols in recent years, I was initially put out because...idol!dd!

(Ok, as a queer person, I also have big solidarity feels and stuff, but that's a whole digression)

But then I began obsessively watching browsing dd stuff on YouTube and I came around to thinking that while I love and miss idol!dd, I don't know that dd is too shook up over it.

In my view, dd sees that type of styling as a role to put on for certain performances. Now that it's out of style, so to say, he switches to something else. It goes along with some other career transitions he's making, such as focusing more on film. I think this may just let him go with a more "natural" styling (basically, how he would style himself if he weren't a celebrity).

(I do think he likes dyeing his hair fashion colors, but that's not necessarily gendered. He's had plenty of dyed hair looks that are still masc)

When I think of things like that...well, I still personally miss idol!dd because that look really works for me. But I'm not bothered on his behalf because I don't know that he feels particularly constrained by the idol crackdown (at least with regards to no longer being able to present with an idol style; there are other aspects of the politics that may feel constraining, but that's a whole other digression). If anything, it provides a good reason for him to move away from idol-dom in his career (which he'd have to do at some point as he ages).

To wrap this up, I've felt horrendously guilty that the first photo on this tumblr wasn't even of dd or gg, so i'm gonna end this with a photo of idol!dd. I'm not gonna say it's my favorite look, because it's just cruel to make me pick a single favorite. But this is one I think is pretty.

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[candy-and-writing]

Loose Ankles

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Pre-Code Writing Challenge. I chose the movie Loose Ankles, where a young woman discovers she has inherited her grandmother’s fortune, but only if she can find and marry a man.

Summary: The night of Harlan’s birthday party, Harlan tells Ransom he’s cutting his family out of his will. No one will get a single red dime. But, still seeing potential in his grandson, Harlan offers Ransom a deal.

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex, tipsy sex, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, low-key Dom Ransom, fluff, Ransom discovering love and not knowing what to do

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. 

Ransom sped down the road, rage seething inside him as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Harlan fucking Thrombey just kicked his family to the curb, his eldest grandson included.

Marta fucking Cabrera was inheriting his fortune. Harlan’s Brazilian nurse. Jesus, this all felt like a bad joke.

But, of course, Harlan wouldn’t just stop there. No, he wanted to make Ransom suffer.

If he could settle down and establish himself, ‘find a nice girl’ as Harlan so blatantly described it, he would give Ransom back his cut of the inheritance. It made Ransom’s blood boil just thinking about it. Ransom Drysdale didn’t date. He didn’t do domesticity. The old man knew that. 

But if it meant he could get his stupid money back, he would do whatever it took. As he pulled into the bar, taking a deep breath, he took his keys out the ignition. He needed a drink if he was going to do this. 

Ransom sat at the bar, nursing his fourth whiskey. There were a couple different girls who looked appealing, all of which Harlan would never approve of. He fished the cherry out of his now-empty glass, waving at the bartender for another drink.

Drumming his fingers on the wood top bar, Ransom caught eyes with a young woman in a booth across the room. You were young, with red painted lips that contrasted beautifully to the black dress you wore. It was modest, the neckline tickling your collarbone and the hem of the dress reaching your knees. A pair of flats donned your feet. You quickly looked away, cheeks flushed and Ransom smiled. You were perfect. Three other people sat in the booth with you, another girl and two guys. You sipped on a glass of rose-tinted wine, your eyes dodging back to Ransom every so often, darting away as soon as you saw he was already looking at you.

Ransom waited almost three hours. The other girl had left with one of the guys, leaving you with the second guy. You didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself—you were fiddling with your thumbs under the table and tapping your foot, smiling awkwardly as the guy laughed at something he said. Something about his dad’s boat. He not-so-subtly kept looking at girls’ asses as they pasted your table, ignoring whatever you were trying to say.

Ransom heard the guy say he was going to the bathroom. Five minutes later Ransom saw him leaving with his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist. You saw it, too. Your face fell. You got up and put a few bills on the table, walking up to the bar. You sat a few seats from him, waving down the bartender.

“Can I get an Amaretto Sour?” you asked, your voice soft and quiet. The bartender nodded as he walked away, grabbing a bottle of Amaretto. You sighed, resting your hand on your chin. Ransom got up, moving to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey.” He smirked, earning himself a pair of wide eyes and flustered cheeks.

“Um—hi.” You gave him a tentative smile. You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink, taking a quick sip.

“I saw what happened,” Ransom said. “That guy’s a dick.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah, he was. That’s what I get for trusting my best friend’s boyfriend, though.”

Ransom smiled, downing the last of his whiskey. He let out a breath, setting his glass down. He watched as you played with the string of pearls hanging around your neck.

“I’m Ransom Drysdale,” he smirked. You told him your name, a sheepish smile spreading over your lips. He repeated your name, testing the way it felt on his tongue. “Can I buy you another drink?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like that.”

You were drunk by the time the bartender kicked you two out. Ransom invited you home with him, his hand resting on your thigh. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, the blush trailing down your neck and to your ears. Ransom smirked at how cute you were, innocent in the way that had his cock throbbing.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sure.”

–

Ransom pushed you up against the door of his house, his lips moving against yours possessively. You whimpered as his hips rutted up against yours, Ransom thrusting his tongue into your mouth. He struggled to fit his key into the lock, turning the doorknob and roughly shoving you two through the door, kicking it shut with his foot.

Ransom grabbed your ass and squeezed, moaning into your mouth. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist, your flats falling off your feet. He carried you up a flight of stairs, his lips working over yours. He stepped into his bedroom and dropped you on his bed, watching you bounce before he pulled his sweater over his head.

He leaned over you, kissing you as he threaded his fingers through yours, pushing them into the mattress on either side of your head. He kissed down your jaw, sucking a dark mark into your neck. He grinded his hips against your center, a gasp leaving your mouth. 

Ransom pushed the skirt of your dress up past your hips, revealing your lacy underwear. Ransom groaned, leaning down to kiss your center through your panties as he massaged your thighs. You sighed, your skin tingling. He swiftly tore the lace down your legs, his mouth latching onto your clit. You squeaked, hips jerking off the bed. He licked a long stripe up your intimate flesh, focusing the tip of his tongue on your bud, earning himself a strangled whine from you.

He devastated you with his mouth, lips latching onto your little bundle of nerves as he pressed his index finger to your entrance. He pushed inside just a little and you gasped. Ransom began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, his tongue working your clit. 

“R—Ransom!" 

Ransom moaned against your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit. He pushed another finger into you, your thighs clenching around his shoulders as you cried out. The pads of his fingers pushed up against your walls, pressing against a certain spot inside of you that had you choking on a moan.

You were burning up, sweat coating your forehead. The coil in your belly was curling impossibly tight, your body on fire as Ransom teased your bundle of nerves. You began to babble, endless pleas of begging until your voice cracked. Ransom smirked against you, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and that was all it took. The coil in your stomach snapped and you screamed, your thighs trembling as your back arched off the bed. 

Ransom rode you from your high until it was just too much. You tried to pull away from him, overstimulated. You whined, your voice cracking, and Ransom finally seemed to get the message. He pulled away, his chin slick with your juices as he hooked his finger under your chin, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, overtly earthy in a way that had you moaning into his mouth.

Ransom pulled away from you, placing a quick peck on your lips. "God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Still blissed-out, you sighed in response, letting Ransom unzip the side of your dress and pull it over your head. He quickly discarded your bra, marveling in your body. He unbuttoned his trousers, shucking them off his legs along with his boxers.

Your breath stuttered in your lungs as Ransom’s length bobbed against his stomach. His tip was painfully red, leaking precum down his shaft. You swallowed, watching as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumping his fist up and down his length. He let out a shaky breath, bending down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

The head of his cock poked at your entrance. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, pushing himself into you slowly. Even after an orgasm, you were still unbelievably tight, clutching Ransom like a vice.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.”

You preened as he bottomed out. Ransom grunted, wrapping your legs around his hips and hugging you close to his chest, carefully rocking his hips up. His thrusts started slow and deep, keeping his pace steady until you’re writhing and mewling for more. His hand reached up and squeezed your breast, rolling his thumb between his thumb and forefinger as he sped up his pace, pounding into you in the most delicious way.

“Fuck!” you cried when Ransom hit a spot deep inside of you, his girth brushing against your walls. “Oh, God! Ransom!”

His hot breath hit your jaw as he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good, babygirl. So fucking good for me.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing down slightly just below your jaw. You gasped, feeling your airway restricted. Your walls fluttered against Ransom’s cock, causing him to groan and tighten his grip on your throat. He cursed into your ear, hips bucking into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. You squirmed violently underneath his grip, whining pathetically as Ransom slammed into you punishingly. The little tears in your eyes and the little noises you make brought something out of him—he squeezed your throat tighter, watching as you writhed beneath him. 

You came with a strangled shout, seizing up and convulsing around Ransom’s length. Ransom dug his fingers into the divots of your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises. With a growl, Ransom pulled out of your slick heat, hot cum coating your stomach.

Ransom released your throat, crashing down on the bed beside you. You wheezed almost painfully, turning on your side as you caught your breath. With a huff of breath, Ransom pushed himself up, opening a door that was adjacent to the bed. You closed your eyes, still coming down from your high. Ransom came back into the room a moment later with a damp rag in hand, pressing it lightly against your stomach.

You hummed. “What’re you doin’?”

“Cleaning you up, baby, just relax." 

You rested your head back against the pillow, letting him wipe you clean. You were half asleep by the time Ransom laid down next to you, pulling the covers over the two of you. When his arm wrapped around your torso, his heat drawing you closer to sleep. 

Ransom listened to your soft and even breaths, something tingling in his chest. He knew he wasn’t going to kick you out in the morning. Something about you was different. He hadn’t had sex that good in a long time—the way you let him take control and do whatever he wanted. Most girls he brought him were needy and loud, but your cute little noises went straight to his cock. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch.

You snuggled up against him, flipping over and burying your face in his chest. 

Ransom was fucked.

–

"Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked, fiddling with your thumbs in the passenger seat of Ransom’s Beemer. “What if they don’t like me?”

Ransom sighed out your name. “Will you stop worrying? They’ll love you. And if they don’t, they can fuck off. The only thing that matters is that I love you.”

You and Ransom had been dating for almost a year. He hadn’t talked to Harlan since the night of his birthday. It turned out you were an assistant at a publishing firm in Boston and with a little pushing from you, he published a best-selling novel. He had done everything his granddad had wanted: he established himself without the help of his family’s money and he’d found a girl. A girl he isn’t planning on letting go. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told Harlan about you—he was worried that you’d think you were disposable, that you were just a means to an end.

It was Harlan’s birthday, exactly a year since Harlan had given Ransom the ultimatum. He was surprised how excited his family was to meet you, certain they had an ulterior motive. 

He pulled into his grandad’s driveway, killing the engine. He sighed, leaning back into his seat.

“Listen,” he said. You turned to look at him, concern flashing behind your eyes. “My family is… a lot. Just don’t let them get to you, okay? They’re assholes.”

You smiled. “I know, Ran. Just calm down, everything will be okay.”

Ransom leaned over and cupped your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Let’s go inside, okay?” You grabbed the pan of lemon bars you made and waited for Ransom to get out of the car and let him open your door for you. 

Ransom opened the front door for you and you were immediately met with shouting. Ransom helped you out of your coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door, rolling his eyes as Linda’s shrill voice echoed through the house.

“C'mon, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

You set your pan on a beautiful granite countertop as Ransom opened a cupboard. He fished out some expensive brand of cookies just as someone stomped into the kitchen.

“Ransom?” It was Richard. “Hey, when did you get here?”

“Two minutes ago, you’d know that if you weren’t all busy screaming at each other,” Ransom retorted, popping a cookie into his mouth. Richard frowned, about to open his mouth when he noticed you hiding behind Ransom.

“Hello, you must be Ransom’s girlfriend?” You nodded, smiling at him. You told him your name, stepping around the countertop to shake his hand. “Well, why don’t you come into the living area and meet the family, we’ve all been dying to meet you.”

–

Dinner was loud. You were sitting between Ransom and Ransom’s cousin—Meg. Meg kept picking fights with her other cousin, Jacob, who was always on his phone. Linda was yelling at Joni, Meg’s mother, who was going on about her Instagram.

Ransom kept mostly quiet, laughing when he found something amusing. His hand had taken place on your thigh, complimenting you on your lemon bars. You smiled at him, nibbling on a carrot. 

After Linda served Harlan’s birthday cake, everyone moved to the living area. You took the chance to refill your wine glass, quickly disappearing to the kitchen. You found an expensive red wine and filled your glass halfway, taking a small sip. 

“Hello, my dear.” You jumped, turning around quickly. Harlan Thrombey stood a few feet away from you, holding a piece of cake in his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright,” you smiled. “I just needed a refill. I’m not hiding in here, or anything.”

“I’d understand if you were.” Harlan chuckled. “I love my family, but they are… a lot. Ransom seems to be doing well, uncharacteristically so.”

“Yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “He… he was really worried about bringing me here. He doesn’t talk about his family a lot, and when he does, it’s you—I think he was worried about his parents being judgemental.”

Harlan nodded. “Ransom has done well for himself. I hear he’s writing a second book?”

“He is, started working on it a couple weeks ago.”

“And he has a beautiful young woman. I’m glad he finally managed to get his life straightened out.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

“Hey.” Ransom entered the kitchen, carefully walking past Harlan. “You disappeared, I got worried. Everything okay?”

You nodded. “I just needed a refill.”

Linda started shouting for Harlan from the living room. Harlan rolled his eyes, excusing himself before he left the kitchen. Ransom looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What was he talking to you about?”

“Relax, Ransom. He was just telling me how proud he was of you.”

You watched as Ransom let out a breath of relief. You two left the kitchen and sat on a couch in the living area, listening in shock as Richard and Joni discussed politics. At some point during the night, Harlan called Ransom into his study. He kissed your cheek before he got up, closing the door to the study behind him.

–

“What did Harlan want to talk to you about?” you asked Ransom, pulling on Ransom’s old sweater. It had shrunk in the wash and you stole it before Ransom could throw it out.

“He just talked about you, mostly,” Ransom told you. “Said he was proud of me for growing up, for finding someone like you, etcetera. Just stuff like that.”

You smiled, crawling onto the bed to kiss his cheek. “I really like your family. They’re… eccentric.”

Ransom laughed. “Babe, they’re a bunch of dicks. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

You sighed. “I like Harlan. He doesn’t deal with anyone’s bullshit.”

“That he does not. Now, come here.” Ransom grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, kissing you. You threaded your fingers through his short hair, moaning into his mouth. He quickly flipped you onto your back and straddled your hips, pressing your hands to the mattress. You laughed, Ransom leaning down to kiss you again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

[yellowocaballero]

Continuation of Human Relations (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

This is a 16k story that’s a bit too short for AO3 but a bit too long for Tumblr that acts as a continuation of my Archivist!Sasha and Immortal!Jon fic Human Relations. I recommend that you read that before this. This story takes place between S2 and S3, and is about Sasha and Georgie’s roommate adventures. I’m uncertain if I’ll continue this and post it on AO3, post it on AO3 as it is, or what, but for the time being I’ll at least post it here. 

Serious content warnings for discussion of abusive friendships, gaslighting, discussion of 19th century racism, implied transphobia, and discussion of police brutality. Nothing more serious than what we saw in Human Relations, but it does have a much more explicit investigation of Jon and Elias’ relationship. Rest under the cut. Happy Birthday, @magickko. 

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Georgie Barker wasn’t a mystery, and she’d be the first to tell you.

Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, honey! I always love having Jonah owe me a favor. Don’t worry about the cops and the law, nobody will ever find you here. Seriously, the entire department’s in my pocket. It’s no hassle having you here, it’s a big flat! It’s been years since I’ve had a roommate, this’ll be fun!

The one thing she hadn’t understood was Sasha begging her not to let Jon in to see her. He knows exactly where you are, Georgie pointed out. He knows you’re not actually a murderer, Georgie said. He might be able to help explain some of what’s going on, Georgie hinted. Jon would respect my wishes, but if Jonah really wants him to talk to you, he’ll definitely do it...

“Please,” Sasha had croaked, the uncomfortable morning after she had stumbled into Georgie’s flat. The Admiral wove around her legs, purring up a storm, and Georgie was munching on avocado toast and sipping pomegranate juice. “I just - I just need some space.”

“Why?” Georgie asked obliviously. That was something that Sasha was rapidly learning about Georgie - she didn’t hold back with impolite questions, or her opinion. She seemed to be regarding Sasha’s life as her own personal Youtuber Drama, which Sasha really didn’t know how she felt about. Her life wasn’t a spectacle, but she guessed even the warfare and tragedy of ants were of obscure and strange interest to humanity. “He’s feeling, like, totally bad about framing you for murder. I can tell he super wants to apologize to you about everything.”

Martin’s words echoed through her mind, from what felt like a decade ago: Jon had ruined Martin’s life, but to him it was as simple as a momentary inconvenience. “I don’t want his apology,” Sasha croaked. “I want not to be on the run from the police. I want to go back to my flat. Unless he’s going to make me human again I don’t want any stupid apologies. They’re useless.”

“Hm. Well, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to, of course.” Georgie sipped at her tea. They were sitting around the breakfast table, Sasha desolately shoving eggs into her mouth as Georgie drank her tea that Sasha was reasonably sure was spiked with brandy. Rich people were literally never sober. “It’ll be so much fun, like a sleepover. We can do each other’s nails and talk about boys!”

“My boyfriend thought I was a monster for the past month and now thinks I’m a murderer,” Sasha said flatly. 

“Oh, I see.” Georgie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We have to get you laid, huh?”

“I am literally on the run from the cops.”

“That’s very sexy to some people,” Georgie assured her. 

After that, Georgie waved goodbye and swanned out of the house, either going to her studio to work on her podcast or doing some work for her real estate empire or writing a best-selling book or schmoozing with celebrities or attending parties at exclusive nightclubs or working part-time as a bartender just for gossip or devouring souls. Just from Sasha’s one day at Georgie’s flat, she knew that she did all of these things and then some. It was a stunning contrast to Jon’s laziness, or Elias (Jonah’s) single-mindedness. 

Maybe you lost the energy to be so productive after your two hundredth year. Sasha didn’t fucking know. Hopefully she would never know. Or maybe Jon just appeared to be lazy, and every moment that he was complaining about being bored he was secretly manipulating world leaders. Maybe Jonah’s dedication to spreadsheets and dress code was a front, and he was secretly pulling the puppet strings of her entire life…

In the empty spaces of Georgie’s spacious flat, it was easy to be paranoid. Sasha lay on her luxurious couch, hands folded across her chest like a corpse, trying not to think of anything, thinking of everything. Thinking of Tim: of his smile, of his scowl, of his cold looks given to someone he had thought was a stranger. Thinking of Martin: his warm smile, his sharp looks. 

She struggled to think of other friends, other family members who gave her comfort, but drew up a blank. Her parent’s faces were blurred after ten years of no contact, not so much forgotten as repressed, and her baby siblings were likely unrecognizable to her now. Almost as unrecognizable as she was to them, probably. Tim, her boyfriend who hated her, and Martin, her subordinate who she had almost never had a conversation with that wasn’t about work or Jon...that was it. All the friends she had in the world. She was sleeping in the guest room of a podcast host/Grim Reaper whom she had met once, and that was all she had.

Loneliness was Sasha’s constant companion. In a crowd, in her family, in the world - no matter how many people she had been surrounded by, she had always been alone. She had never had anybody in the world to rely on besides herself, and for the first time in a long time she was achingly aware of it. Nobody who loved her was going to help her. She was alone now.

After an hour of lying on the couch and crying, Sasha desolately watched Netflix cooking shows on Georgie’s gigantic flat-screen TV, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. She only moved to pet Georgie’s silky long-haired cat whose name she had already forgotten, and even he left quickly once she lost the energy to give him attention.

That was how Georgie found Sasha when she came home: lying on the couch, still dressed in borrowed silk pyjamas, watching idiots on television fuck up cakes. Georgie’s arms were laden with shopping bags, with names of exclusive London boutiques sprawled along the side, her deep black pits of eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. She burst through the door happily, her cat running up to her and winding through her laps as he purred, and easily kicked off her red pumps. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, looking strangely excited. 

“Sorry I’m back to late! Utterly bogged up at work, there was a plane crash and I was processing corpses for hours. I had to do some serious retail therapy just to deal with the tedium - darling, have you moved?”

Sasha grunted. 

“You look like Mikey Crew threw you off the Shard,” Georgie said sympathetically. “Utterly disastrous. Don’t worry, Aunt Georgie’s here to make you feel better.” She lifted her bag triumphantly. “I bought you new outfits!”

Sasha eyed her warily. 

“You get no say in this,” Georgie said kindly. “Chop chop, we’re doing face masks too.”

That’s how, somehow, Sasha found herself playing an unwilling dress-up doll for the Grim Reaper. Georgie had taken Sasha’s casual mention that she had no clothing besides her work pantsuit to heart, and had hit up her favorite boutiques for ‘cute outfits that accentuated her figure and made her eyes pop!’. Or something. Sasha wasn’t much one for fashion. 

As it turned out, Georgie Barker had a walk-in closet. Because of course she did. 

The looks ranged from Sasha’s usual, as Georgie put it, ‘sexy librarian’ look, to ballgowns, to tennis outfits, to moddish, to vintage, to wintery. It was February, the seasons lingering in British chill, and according to Georgie the perfect solution to this was a mink coat that was probably worth a month’s rent on her flat. 

Strangely, all of the outfits fit perfectly - and Sasha knew that her measurements were difficult to find. Georgie took it in stride, clapping enthusiastically each time and suggesting accessories and how to mix and match the outfits. 

She would have thought that she was too dead inside to actually enjoy it, but so far as distractions went it actually worked pretty well. Georgie chatted about everything but their actual problems, and Sasha had absolutely no input or choice in what Georgie decided to dress her in, and by the time they had transitioned from nail painting to watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream from the carton Sasha was actually feeling a little relaxed. 

“The musical’s better,” Georgie informed Sasha imperiously as Sasha dug around in her carton for chunks of cookie dough. Georgie was clutching a glass of wine in one hand, while Sasha was contenting herself with ice cream. Best not to drink when she was this sad. “Reese is such a doll, though. Allergic to shellfish, poor dear, but I told her not to let Leo pick the restaurant.”

“What I’m wondering,” Sasha said carefully, teeth cracking into the frozen chunk of cookie dough, “is that half the time when I see you, you’re dressed like a 2008 goth in jeans and t-shirts.”

“Oh, honey,” Georgie said pityingly, patting her hand. “I used to spend two hours getting dressed each morning. I’m never doing that to myself again. You, however, clearly have never had nice clothing in your life. It’s written all over your face. People’ll walk all over you if you always look like you’re straight from a charity shop. We gotta buy you some self-confidence.”

“Thanks. I think.” On screen, Elle flourished and achieved her dreams. Sasha tried not to feel jealous. “It’s not really as if I had a lot of girly sleepovers as a kid…”

“Word,” Georgie said sympathetically. She patted Sasha’s hand again. “Jon was the same way, you know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to renovate that boy’s wardrobe. He has no idea how to dress to impress.”

“Do we have to talk about Jon right now,” Sasha groused. “He’s the last person I want to think about.”

“He means well,” Georgie soothed, as Elle Woods proudly proclaimed on television how she, yes, she, was a strong independent woman - who didn’t need a man! “It’s not his fault he’s stupid. He’s just so helpless on his own, you know, he needs girls like you and me to make sure he’s not wasting a decade fixating on obscure Bolivian religious practices or whatever.”

“Helpless? He’s a two hundred year old man.” Sasha spitefully grabbed the bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring it into a spare glass and drinking it quickly. It probably cost thousands of pounds, but it just tasted like wine to her. “It’s not my job to make sure his little feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” Georgie said, but Sasha had the sense she was being calmed instead of listened to. “But Jon’s...you know.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Georgie made an interpretive hand gesture. Sasha stared at her blankly. 

“...I still don’t.”

Georgie sighed. “He’s delicate. Jonah babies him, honestly.” She patted Sasha’s hand for the third time, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him see you until you’re ready to forgive him. Every woman has the right to some time to herself after a guy fucks her over. You two’ll patch things up, right as rain.”

There was nothing Sasha wanted to say to that, nothing she wanted to think about, and she kept drinking her wine and watching the movie, out of lack of any other options.

That night, she drunkenly tipped into bed, so blasted that she slid immediately into sleep and did not dream. It was the first relief she’d had in what felt like a very long time. 

It wasn’t Sasha’s job to fix Jonathan Sims. 

It really, really wasn’t. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better, or forgive him, or save him from himself. If Martin wanted to waste his time and energy doing that, then god fucking speed, but Sasha had other priorities. She had been profoundly fucked over and had her trust abused by three different men lately, and she wasn’t going to be the one to patch things up.

Two of them she had no desire to patch things up with at all. Two of them she’d be perfectly happy if she never saw again. The last one...Sasha didn’t know what she felt. But that was nothing new. 

That being said, as Sasha chewed her way through hangover medication and an acai bowl the next morning, Georgie’s inane chattering about tricking some celebrity or another into taking her to Hungary for authentic Hungarian food didn’t register nearly as loudly in Sasha’s mind as her words about Jonah and Jon. 

Jonah babies Jon. That was what she had said. It...it was accurate, right? It had to be. Georgie had known Jonah and Jon for a hundred years, and Sasha had barely heard one authentic conversation between them. She’d known them for a year, and known Jonah’s true nature for maybe a few days. There was no way Sasha understood their relationship better than Georgie did. It just didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she put her spoon down, cutting Georgie off in the middle of her ramble about the majesty of Hungarian food made by genuine Hungarian grandma hands. “What did you mean, ‘Jonah babies Jon’?”

Georgie blinked at her, clearly barely remembering the conversation, before recognition dawned. Then she shrugged, sipping her protein smoothie. Which may or may not be spiked. It seemed as if her solution to hangovers was to just not stop being drunk. “Oh, you know how those two are. Jon swans around the world doing whatever he wants, Jonah holds the fort down at home. That’s why Jon’s fun, you know.” She sighed nostalgically. “Romantic cruises to the Bahamas for two months, we tear up the Bahaman government and start a minor military coup, then we take a tour of the beaches. You haven’t lived until you’ve dug your toes into Bahaman sand.” 

That was something Georgie said frequently: you haven’t lived until you’ve done X, Y, or Z. It seemed as if Georgie was very intent on living, and very intent on defining it in discretionary ways. To Sasha, living was simply the act of not being dead, but Georgie was almost fanatical about experiencing life. 

“If he’s so much fun, then why did you break up?” Sasha asked, before she realized what she said. “I mean, it’s really none of my business, feel free not to answer that -”

But Georgie just laughed lightly. “That’s just how Jon and I work. We spend a few weeks together in bliss, and then we go our separate ways for six months or a year or whatever. Work’s always taking us different places, and seeing each other all day would make us hate each other. Some people work best when they’re not in each other’s pocket.” She took a long drag of the smoothie before speaking again. “Besides, he’ll always be second in my life to having fun. And I’ll always be second in his life to Jonah. It’s just how we work. It works for us!”

It seemed to. Last Sasha checked, Georgie and Jon seemed to be very amicable despite being exes. Lackadaisical, on-and-off, passionate yet going years without seeing each other - it was a relationship uniquely in the providence of workaholic immortals. 

It wasn’t until Georgie had already waved goodbye, making Sasha promise not to spend all day on the couch again, that she realized that Georgie hadn’t quite answered her question. 

An image flashed through Sasha’s mind - Jon’s face, as he dared to disagree with Jonah, and was utterly ground into the dust for it. 

There was something more to this. Something that wasn’t obvious on the surface, something that was so well hidden maybe nobody even knew it was going on. Or maybe it was deeper than that, more insidious: maybe whatever was going on was so well-known and pervasive that it simply wasn’t spoken about. Not polite, not the kind of thing you say about your friends, not normal. Not in polite company. Not vocalized. Utterly taken for granted. 

Sasha walked into the guest room, pulling out her phone from her bag and staring at its blank screen. Holding her breath, she hesitantly turned it on, staring at it blankly as it slowly booted up. 

She shouldn’t be turning it on. She was perfectly aware of how, given a warrant, the police could track cell phone location, texts sent and received, everything. She could do it herself. The crushing weight of surveillance, the fear of being found and seen and rooted out, settled over her shoulders like an old, familiar friend. A comforting blanket to wrap herself up in at night: where, even if the fear was terrible and awful, at least it was familiar. 

You could get used to anything, Sasha thought. Any behavior, any fears, any horrors or tragedies - anything could become normal, given enough time. A year. A hundred years. After two hundred years, maybe you wouldn’t even recognize it as happening at all.

Like a flood, the text messages poured in. Notifications chimed in a cacophony, as text after text after text popped up on her phone. Missed calls. Emails popped up, notifications from the doorbell camera, reminders from her fucking Duolingo...

Dizzily, Sasha scrolled through the texts. Lots from Tim, as expected, and a few from Martin, as expected. Some texts from her mother, which - which wasn’t expected. At all. Sasha hadn’t even known that she knew her number. 

Sasha’s brain stuttered over the Spanish, having been years since she spoke it. Her brain also stuttered over the gratuitous misgendering, which was also blissfully novel yet just as uncomfortable and upsetting as ever. Translated, it was a slightly accusatory question about why the police had been calling them about her whereabouts. What had she done? Had she gotten in trouble?

No matter what you did, the text read, God will forgive you. Just call them back. 

Sasha stared at the texts, brain buzzing. She felt sick. Forgive her? They’d forgive her? They thought she’d done it? They thought she was capable of -

Horribly, awfully, tears pricked at her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe you never really grew accustomed to pain, even if it was felt a thousand times. Maybe some pain you never acclimated to, never scarred over or calloused. Maybe sometimes the more you were hurt, the worse it hurt. The pain her parents gave her - how they cut off contact, the misgendering, the coldness - hurt just as badly at thirty six as it had at twenty six, at twenty, at fifteen, at nine. It had always hurt. 

So stupid. Sasha deleted the text messages. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t a child. She was thirty six goddamn years old, that was way too old to still care about your parents. To still need them.

She clicked on Martin’s texts next. The first one had a timestamp before the murder, the rest afterwards.

Martin: where are you?? I found Tim (he tried to kill me w/an axe but we’re ok now) and were trying to get out of here. I explained everything to him. We’ll meet you in the archives. 

Martin: Police are looking for you. I know you didn’t do it so call me back. Tim’s worried. Jon doesn’t seem that worried...

Martin: Shouldn’t text you anymore. Please be safe & careful. 

Jesus. Jesus, she had been terrible to Martin. She was a rotten friend. Sasha hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes. She needed to get him a gift basket. Five. He was a freak, but he was her freak. Maybe. 

Finally, almost holding her breath, she pressed on Tim’s messages. There were a lot of them - more than was safe, Sasha distantly registered. The first five were from the same time Martin had sent the second text. She guessed it was right after the police finished talking to them. He had called her slightly before - likely when they found the body - but there were also two texts from two am last night. 

Tim: pick up your phone

Tim: pick up your phone are you okay im so sorry

Tim: baby please please pick up

Tim: we need to talk & im sorry & i hope ur safe

Tim: dont text me back 

Then two texts from two am:

Tim: to warn you im drunk but im sorry (AND DRUNK) but in my defense im a shitty boyfriend. If you want to break up its fine but id like to make it work but i get if you cant because cops i guess. Bitch tonner wont stop bothering me make her stoppp

Tim: I love you and I wish that was enough. 

Sasha rubbed at her eyes, exhausted. She wished it was enough too. She knew it wasn’t. Strongly, like burning, Sasha wished so desperately that she had never met Jonathan Sims. Maybe, in that world, things were okay. She and Tim were happy. 

She scrolled through the rest of the notifications. Strangely, she even had two texts from Melanie. 

Melanie: Hey, I heard what’s going on. I know you couldn’t have done it. A LOT of cops are bothering me - Hussein and Tonner have called like five times. I think you know them? For legal purposes I’ll say that you should turn yourself in or whatever. 

Melanie: oh and Martin said to tell you that Mr. Bouchard’s been asking me a lot of questions about what im doing and my job situation - dunno y tho

That….probably wasn’t good. 

No texts from Jon. She wouldn’t know what to do if he had. She doubted he knew her number, or how to work a phone. The last thing she could deal with emotionally right now was an apology. She didn’t know what to do about Tonner or Hussein or Melanie. Those were all problems she couldn’t fix right now. 

Really, there was only one problem she could fix right now. She walked over to the door to the balcony, carefully stepping out onto the 20th story balcony. She carefully ejected her SIM card, snapped it in half, looked underneath her to make sure there were no passerby in the exclusive London neighborhood, and forced her fingers to release from the phone so she could watch it fall twenty stories onto the concrete. 

She imagined a smash, a crack, but it didn’t make any sound at all. Sasha forced herself to step back inside, leaving the past behind her. 

There was a lot Sasha had to force herself to do that day. Georgie owned a few laptops, but she hadn’t given Sasha permission to use any of them yet, and she didn’t want to intrude. Despite Sasha’s own...reservations about her personality, she really was being incredibly kind by letting her stay and trying to cheer her up. She did, however, have a great deal of antique books, and Sasha eagerly cracked open the first edition copies of fiction novels from the 19th century. Was that a first edition Pride & Prejudice? Oh, score!

She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Food tasted like ash in her mouth, but that always happened whenever she was upset. She forced herself to take a shower, impossibly intimidated by Georgie’s small army of hair care and hygiene products, and even cautiously let herself take a bubble bath with a bath bomb. It was...weirdly luxurious, but maybe not surprisingly. Georgie’s bathroom was like the Queen’s, and you could practically swim in the bathtub. It was intimidating and weird and uncomfortable, but Sasha forced herself to appreciate it. How many people got to take a shower in a stall with five different showerheads?

Halfway through the day the housekeeper came in, terrifying Sasha deeply, and she retreated to her guest bedroom to let the woman work. She inspected her newly painted toenails glumly, halfway through Pride & Prejudice, forcing herself not to think about how Jon could have been a background character in the novel. Wasn’t he in his twenties in this time period? Wasn’t that when he and Jonah Magnus had -

Sasha drank more wine, and put on another cooking program. She hadn’t watched telly all day, so technically she could tell Georgie that. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything productive to do. No work, which sucked when she was a workaholic. No computer to waste time on. No friends she could talk to without the police investigating her. She couldn’t go outside, again due to the aforementioned cop situation. Her life was her work, and her bosses had just framed her for murder. 

Somewhat buzzed, Sasha stole several pieces of intricate stationary and wrote down everything Leitner had told her before he was murdered. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, yet far more than she knew what to do with. Halfway through her notes deteriorated into a bizarre sort of mind map, lists of cases connected together and obscure monsters and figures pointing to each other. Salasea and his endless array of dangerous trinkets, mysterious yet lonely ship captains, Michael and his gently twisting deceit, Gerry Keay and his bizarre heroism, Leitner and his ruinous imprints, Agnes and her desolate fate, and the oft-mentioned yet barely understood man, whose name was whispered by shadowy figures entrenched in  the supernatural world, Jonathan Sims…

Did he know? How often his shadow stained her statements? Did he care? Did he know how thoroughly he had ruined her life? 

She scoured her memory for hints, writing down everything she could remember of his cameos in random statements. Of Leitner’s testimony, the immortal figure who so easily attained what Leitner and Mary Keay had spent their entire lives grasping for. Was there a hint to his true nature, his true allegiance? 

In the corners of the cute stationary, Sasha doodled a small eye. She stared at it, and couldn’t help but fight the notion that it was staring back. 

She scratched it out, feeling paranoid, not feeling paranoid enough. 

A few hours later, Georgie came home, and Sasha fought the pathetically hopeful trepidation. When she heard the front door rattle she left her room, intending on welcoming Georgie back and proving that she hadn’t been watching telly all day, but she stopped short in the hallway when she heard the loud sound of voices. Specifically, the loud sound of Georgie’s still slightly unfamiliar voice, and the quieter tones of a voice that was far too familiar to her.  

“ - if you’ll just let me talk to her, she’ll understand.”

“And she said that she’s not seeing you,” Georgie said firmly. Sasha held her breath, pressing herself up against the hallway wall. Next to her was a doorway that led to the living room, that led to a foyer. If she craned her head she could just barely see Georgie standing in the foyer, arguing with a figure holding a leather briefcase that made Sasha’s heart leap into her throat. “You really did screw her over, you know.”

“I know,” Jonathan Sims whined. “I want to apologize. It’s not my fault. Jonah got pushy again, you know how he is.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Georgie scoffed. “Did something happen between you two? Sasha was asking all sorts of weird questions.”

“Just Jonah being his usual insufferable self,” Jon said, so carelessly and casually that if Sasha hadn’t known better she would have believed him. “It probably alarmed her, seeing how that man really is. I’m sure she’s feeling very overwhelmed right now.”

“She really is, the poor dear,” Georgie said sympathetically. Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. “But you aren’t getting past this foyer, honey. I’m sure she’ll want to be friends again once Jonah gets the cops off her case.”

“Martin’s giving me a hard time,” Jon sulked. “Says this is all my fault that the dreadful little wolf girl is sniffing around. It’s not my fault. If my Archivist just let me explain, she’d see that it’s not my fault.”

“That Blackwood boy’s always giving you a hard time,” Georgie sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him. He’s overly moralistic and doesn’t know how to have fun. You spend too much time with him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Georgina Barker,” Jon teased. He stepped forward a little closer, and although Sasah couldn’t see his face she had the feeling he was smiling. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“Idiot,” Georgie said fondly, “everything’s a good look on me.” She stretched up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Ditch him and come party with me, darling, I’ll show you a wonderful time. Maybe after all of this nonsense blows over.”

“Judging from what I can make out of Jonah’s monologuing, we ought to get our parties in while we still can,” Jon said glumly. He opened his briefcase, passing a manila folder to Georgie. “Give her these. She’ll be getting hungry. Tell her that the top one is from work, and the second is from me.” He hesitated for a second. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“If it’s not your fault, then why do you need to be forgiven?”

Jon was silent for a long minute. Finally, he said, “I’ll talk to you later, Georgie. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie said easily, casually, as if she had said it a thousand times, a million times. “Take care of yourself.”

She stood in the foyer after he left, arms folded, one delicately manicured finger tapping against her arm. She eventually turned around, poking her head into the living room. 

“You can come out, darling, I don’t bite.”

Sasha guiltily stepped into the living room, crossing her arms defensively. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

But Georgie just rolled her eyes. “Please. My best friends are Jonathan Sims and Jonah Magnus.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Well. My oldest friends. Anyway, if you’re in the same house as one of those Beholding types you aren’t getting a private conversation. I’m super used to it.” She held out the manila folder, and Sasha cautiously stepped forward and took it from her. 

“Beholding types?” 

“Oh, you know, you and your lot,” Georgie said dismissively. “Can’t do anything about that annoying little megalomania the Eye gives you. Have fun with lunch, I have to freshen up. It takes ages to get the scent of Jon’s musty old books off me.”

But Sasha was already tuning her out, because in the manilla envelope there were two Statements. They thrummed under her fingers, charged with energy and power and fear, and Sasha could feel herself gripping them. The first one was a classic Magnus Institute Statement, just like she would have read at work, but the second was what looked like a photocopy of a piece of paper. Judging from the ornate script, it was old, and when Sasha’s eyes wandered to the date her eyes widened. July 21st, 1823. 

She looked up, already frantically searching for a tape recorder, and immediately saw one sitting on the coffee table. She didn’t think twice about it, already sitting on the plush white couch and setting the papers out. Which one first - oh man, they were both so exciting - her fingers drifted to the one Jon gave her, and she picked it up. That one, then. 

Sasha James pressed play on the tape deck, feeling a familiar thrill go through her at the gentle whirring. She cleared her throat. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a letter sent by Barnabas Bennet to Jonah Magnus. Statement begins.”

And, as Sasha’s blood ran cold, she began to read. 

My dearest Jonah,

I hope you are well. It was an absolute pleasure to vacation at your estate this summer. I’ve never had such interesting conversations with a like-minded individual, and since returning to my own estate I have been sorely missing your company. You have introduced a great deal of brightness and acute interest to my life, and without you the luminescence of Heaven does not thrill me. How I wish you were around to thrill me again!

Do not concern yourself - I have maintained my studies. The library you loaned me is of great interest, and I have been spending many a quiet night bent over one of your occult tomes. I have never felt so enlightened. A world is opening up before us, Jonah, one of richness and wonder, and for the first time in many years I find myself excited to rise each morning. I thank our Heavenly Father each day that I was so fortunate as to cross your path. You must remind me to discuss with you the report by Smirke in detail - fascinating! Theoretical, of course, all theoretical - but the concept of classifying the devils that so bewitch man into fourteen unique taxonomies fascinates me. We must discuss it. 

Jonah, I trust that this letter reaches you in private, and that you shall not betray my confidence by discussing it with anyone. I have a private grievance I wish to address with you. It is regarding your boy, the one kept so close in your confidence and trust. 

I would never hasten to question any of your decisions, for I trust they are made with great deliberation and forethought. But I must question why you keep that boy so close to you. His air is strange and fey. While summering at your estate, I would frequently see him awake at late hours, pouring over some tome or report or another (I would swear that he reads better than I!). I know he’s somewhat of a project of yours, bringing him into Christianity and your charity, which will surely be rewarded etc etc, but I cannot shake my strange trepidation. 

If I were to be quite honest, my fear of him. 

He always asks questions. Disturbing and distressing questions. And when I deign to answer them, he acts as if he truly understands. Moreover, that he understands more than me - that he possesses some secret knowledge that only he has obtained. I catch him listening at doorways and around corners frequently, and no matter how many times I box him about the ears for it he will not cease. You encourage it, allowing this behavior. Even after I reported to you the pagan rituals which I am confident he is performing, you brush me off. You two are strangely close. I’m simply concerned for you, Jonah. Please heed my advice: that boy is trouble. I fear that he will bring you into trouble also. Do not allow this paganism to steer you away from the light of our heavenly Father. I understand that the occult is of great interest to all of us, discovering the secrets of the world and its many mysteries, but it is only an academic interest. I would never go so far as to partake of these devilish rituals myself, and you ought to dissuade yourself of such a notion also. Do not allow that John to lead you astray. 

I wish you most well. I am encountering some trouble of my own - debts and such - but do not concern yourself with them. The situation is well-handled. I hope to write to you again soon.

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

Is this your definition of vulnerability? Of honesty? What, are you trying to justify your decisions to me? I get it, it’s disgusting. These people were disgusting to you. I can’t know how you feel, but I think I - my parents -

What I mean is, I can’t understand. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been. I understand how Jonah was the only one to… ‘get’ you or whatever. How he was the only person to see how brilliant you are, how much you have to give. 

But, Jon - I don’t think Jonah thought any better of you than Barnabas did. He was just better at hiding it. I don’t know, I didn’t know him and I still don’t know him - but you get that the way he talked to you back then wasn’t right, right? You get that it was fucked up, right?

I don’t know. I don’t think you get that. I don’t think anybody does. Georgie’s too close to it, too used to you and Jonah’s ‘quirks’ or whatever. I...don’t know anything Martin thinks, but I feel as if you’d be pretty invested in keeping this from him. But I’m close enough to you to see it, and I’m far enough away from this that I understand. Something’s really fucked up about this situation. I’m worried I’m the only person who sees it. I hate being that person, the person who Sees it all, who knows it all, but is powerless to do anything about it. You understand, right? You understand how much this is hurting me?

I’m not sure you do. If you’re showing me this, trying to show me how hard you had it, how misunderstood you were, just so I forgive you...I don’t. And it’s manipulative, so cut it out. I’m not sure if you’re consciously doing that, I really don’t think you’re emotionally intelligent enough.

But you aren’t dumb, Jon. I know it’s a defence mechanism or whatever to pretend that you are, to act childish, but you aren’t. 

Ugh, listen to me. I sound like Martin. Disgusting. I don’t give a shit about this, I’m not your therapist. But you keep on making your problems my problems, and I’m not tolerating that. We’ll talk when I’m not fucking wanted for murder for something you were complicit in. 

Get your act together. I don’t forgive you. Statement fucking ends. 

As if Sasha’s life wasn’t hard enough, Georgie wanted to go dancing. 

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

“The nightclub’s so dark, nobody’ll even see your face,” Georgie promised. 

“Shouldn’t I be spending my time working on my conspiracy theory board?”

“Honey, no offence, that thing is so tacky.”

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

So, of course, that’s how Sasha ended up shoved into a tight dress, heels, and makeup, pushed into a taxi, and quickly deposited in front of a warehouse looking building. There was a long line out the door, of women with straightened hair dressed somehow identically, yet way worse, than Sasha, all looking very cold. Georgie looped her arm through Sasha’s, white teeth flashing as she grinned widely, and escorted them both straight through the doors and past security. 

She, it seemed, was a known quantity. Sasha, who had spent the last year working in a mill to feed evil psychic vampires and the ten years before that locked in academia, which was basically the same thing, was not a known quantity to any nightclub. She had not been clubbing since uni, which was approximately five lifetimes ago.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Sasha said into Georgie’s ear as they transitioned from the furiously cold February air into the swelteringly hot club. It was dim and smoky, the noise overwhelmingly grating at her ears. After so long in a quiet office, in a silent flat, she could barely handle it. 

Georgie said something to her. 

“What?” Sasha yelled. “Georgie, I don’t want to be here!”

Georgie frowned at her, and unlinked their arms so she could reach up on her tiptoes and clasp Sasha on the shoulders. “You have been accused of murder! You just split with your boyfriend because of clown trauma! You haven’t had fun in years! You deserve this, queen!”

You know...maybe she did. 

Georgie pressed a drink into her hands, mysteriously procured from somewhere, and without thinking too hard about it Sasha downed it in one gulp. Georgie whooped, clapping her on the back, and directed her towards the bar. She flashed her platinum credit card at the bartender, and suddenly Sasha was MVP of the night. 

You know, Sasha thought dizzily as she was given a toxic blue drink and pushed onto the dance floor, maybe she did deserve this. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? After the way things ended with Tim, couldn’t she just act like a normal girl and go clubbing with her friends to dance away the pain? She was almost forty, way too old for this, but maybe she could forget for a little bit. She had never had the opportunity as a teenager, not even as a young adult. Couldn’t she do this, before she died?

Maybe women closer to forty than thirty dealt with this with - with book clubs, with sisterhood, whatever. Maybe women closer to forty than thirty were married, had kids of their own. But Sasha was just Sasha, stuck in a literal dead-end job, going nowhere good, and this was all she would ever have. 

Maybe Georgie was right. Why not live, before she died? Everybody on earth died - everybody, that is, except for a small group of people who were willing to sell their soul for the privilege.  At least maybe this way she could have whatever joy she could fit into her life before all opportunity was lost, and she was lost. 

A man sidled up to her, asking for a dance, and she evaded him. But then there was another one, and another one, and Sasha found herself fleeing back to the bar and ordering another drink. Too soon. Way too soon. She found herself digging in her borrowed purse, searching for her phone, wanting to call Tim or talk to him or ask him if they really were broken up so she could have rebound sex with random dudes in bars, but the purse was empty of both a phone and a wallet. That’s right - she had destroyed it. Because the cops were after her. 

Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, a man sat down at a barstool. He said something to the bartender and leaned towards her, mouth spilling something obscured by the crush and heat and sound of the club. He seemed to be asking if he could buy her a drink. Sasha shook her head dizzily, confused and lost. Then he leaned in closer, and Sasha could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Are you sure? I’d like to dance with you!”

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically. 

“Aw, come on -”

Then, as if by magic, Georgie was at her elbow. Unintimidating, not more than one hundred and seventy centimeters, with teased hair and sharp black lipstick and eyeliner, she raised an eyebrow at the guy. But there must have been something in her eyes, or a lack of something, because the guy rapidly slipped off the barstool and melted into the crowd, leaving the drink the bartender slid onto the counter behind. 

As if she had planned it, Georgie easily stole the drink and knocked it back. She tugged Sasha down, yelling into her ear. “Come with me, darling, let’s check out where the real party is.”

Without taking no for an answer, Georgie grabbed Sasha’s hand and tugged her through the outskirts of the crowd, ducking and weaving between small clusters of people and women dancing the night away. Sasha’s vision swam, details and faces lost in the endless ripple of flashing lights and sound, until all she felt was Georgie’s cool hand in hers, and it wasn’t until they emerged from the choppy sea of people into a small hallway off the main room that she felt like she could breathe. Sasha’s head swam with movement and smoke, and she was barely cognizant that they were in a hallway for a bathroom or something. 

But Georgie walked confidently past the bathrooms, into what appeared to be a storage closet. She confidently opened it, halting at the door frame to glance backwards at Sasha. A smile quirked at her bow lips. 

“You coming?”

Sasha, slightly intoxicated though she was, couldn’t fight the skepticism. “This is where the real party is? A supply closet?”

“Oh, my dear Archivist,” Georgie said, smirking slightly. “The world is full of far more delights than you could understand. Follow me, and stay close.”

Then Georgie stepped forward, disappearing into the closet, and as little as Sasha wanted to step inside more dubiously supernatural hallways she wanted to be left alone in this club even less, and she ducked after Georgie into the unknown. 

The unknown, as it turned out, was another club. 

Or, more accurately, a pub. It was a nice pub too, all smoky yellow lights and burnished wood booths. The booths were upholstered in soft and cushy looking brown leather, and the sound where nowhere above a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem to be abandoned, the shadows at some booths deeper than others, but for the life of her Sasha couldn’t puzzle out the faces or figures of anybody at these shadowy corners. There was a single bartender, wiping a grimy glass over and over. He nodded at Georgie when he walked in, and Sasha was forced to wonder how many dubiously physical supernatural bars and hang-outs existed in random back rooms of mundane stores. Were these things just everywhere? Or were there only a few, and so long as you had the right key any door could be an entrance? It was just Sasha’s intuition, but she felt as if it was the latter. 

What would, could Georgie open up for her? What power, what majesty? What world of power and control could Jon give her, that Jon was trying to hard to give her that she kept refusing? Nobody was telling her the cost. Nobody was letting her make a decision. She was being swept up in the wake of giants, and Sasha was just trying to keep her head above water. 

Georgie was still walking confidently down the aisles, and Sasha stumbled trying to keep up. Finally, she came to a stop in a back corner, utterly secluded with a booth that stretched the entire corner, large enough for seven or more people. Georgie turned to Sasha, smiling broadly, and Sasha tried not to feel intimidated. 

“Honey, these are my friends. Girls, this is my new roommate, Sasha James!”

With a flourish, she made a little tah-dah motion, and the smoky yellow lamp above the table flickered on. 

The table was crowded with women, or women appearing people. Absolutely none of them were familiar. No - in the corner, there was one person who was familiar. Michael, blonde hair hurting her eyes in curly ringlets, hands in his coat pockets. He smiled crookedly at her, jarring her adrift. 

“Uh,” Sasha said, confused. Who were these people? “Hello?”

A short East Asian woman in a white tank top and black jeans scowled from where she was slouching in her seat. “One of those Beholding patsies? Please, Georgie, they’re so insufferable.”

“I like this one,” Georgie said cheerfully. She slid into an empty seat, and Sasha cautiously sat next to her. “Play nice, everyone.”

“You’re such a grouch, Jude,” a woman said, leaning forward and looking interestedly at Sasha. Her eyes were dark and big, her head cocked, giving her an almost insectoid air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally, Archivist. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re really making waves in our little community.”

“Patsy Archivist,” a tall and burly white woman with cascading brown hair said shortly, taking long gulps of a pint. “What’s impressive about that?”

“I’m impressed with anyone who puts up with Sims and Magnus long enough,” the insectish woman said. “No offence, Georgie.”

“Oh, they’re insufferable,” Georgie said cheerfully. “Have you heard how those two like to socialize? They go to galas. With those awful little Fairchilds and Lukases and whatever. It’s just tragic.”

“Word,” the insect woman said, raising her glass. The rim seemed to be coated in cobwebs, making Sasha feel vaguely ill. “Much rather have a pint at a nice little pub with friends. But we haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name’s Annabelle Cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of me in all those little stories you like.”

Anabelle Cane. Sasha swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“A proxy Archivist she may be,” Michael said serenely, “but perhaps our most successful yet. She’s already coming along so much further than Gertrude ever did.” He winked bizarrely at Sasha. “Michael, but you already know that. They and them, if you please.”

Oh. Sasha blinked at them. “Thanks for...saving my life back there. And Tim’s and Martin’s.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said affably. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Always nice to have the Eye owe me a favor.”

“They’re just mad they didn’t get to kill Gertrude,” the brunette said evenly. “Julia Montauk. You should know me too, I think. Is it true you killed someone?”

“I definitely didn’t,” Sasha said heatedly. “It was a set-up.”

“Relax, we’re all killers here,” the woman in a tank top said. She scowled at Sasha. “Jude Perry. What the fuck do those old money ponces think they’re doing, installing another patsy Archivist this late in the game? I would have thought that they learned their lesson after that bitch Gertrude.”

“Archivists are quite slow learners,” a woman piped up. She sat in the corner, strangely oddly. Her skin was shiny and strange in the dim light, almost plasticish, and her dark eyes hadn’t moved from Sasha’s face since she walked in. “Nikola. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Are you guys all…” Sasha trailed off uncomfortably. “You know?”

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly. 

“Inhuman monstrosities of plastic and flesh?” Nikola inquired. 

“Daughters of fear entities that control our every action?” Annabelle said. 

“Embodiments of unknown concepts made sentient, forced into a shape that cannot suit them, locked in flesh and fractal prisons, always screaming in endless turmoil, unable to understand the horrors of the concepts of ourselves, always searching for the sweet release of death that can never quite be obtained, because that which does not live can never die?” Michael said serenely. 

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly. 

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked. 

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point. 

“...yeah,” Sasha said. “Hey, where can I get more drinks?”

Unsurprisingly enough, the drinks came very fast. Service was excellent when you hung out with eldritch women, Sasha supposed. 

The conversion flew thick and fast after that. In Sasha’s experience, joining a new group of established friends meant being ignored for favor of pre-existing dynamics. It was always uncomfortable, and no small part of why she just didn’t join new groups. Tim had never had that problem - he had a loud and persistent personality, the kind that made you pay attention to him. He dominated any room he entered, by force if necessary. It always seemed exhausting to Sasha, but Tim didn’t really seem to have anymore real friends than she did lately. His personality was like an ocean, overwhelming and everywhere, but when his mood turned sour it was just as intense. Gulfs of pleasure, intense pain - it seemed exhausting, to feel so deeply. God knows Sasha didn’t. 

But today, in this group, she seemed to be novel. Maybe new fear avatars were a rare enough thing, or at least ones with Georgie’s seal of approval. They aimed a barrage of questions at her, and Sasha did her best to keep up with each one.

How did Sasha know Georgie? Mostly through a mutual enemy. Oh, fuckin’ Sims, right - you guys friends? No, I hate him. You guys fucking? Ew. Right, right, Sims is a giant prude - actually I heard that he doesn’t really - no, Jon decided a while back he doesn’t do that, and we all respect his decision - ew, though, nobody wants to imagine that. So why are you two friends? We’re roommates, mostly, I’m kinda on the run from the cops. Who’d you kill? Nobody. Who’d that old fucker Bouchard kill? Jurgen Leitner, mostly. 

“Cheers to that!” Julia said abruptly, raising her glass. “Hate that fucker.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Annabelle said, downing her own drink and what seemed like an improbable quantity of spiders. She leaned over the table to where Sasha had hastily been stuffed in, beetle-black eyes gleaming. “But really. What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Sasha said uncomfortably, “I got framed for murder -”

But Annabelle just waved her hand. “No, no, we know that. I’m asking what are you doing here? With people like us, in a place like us? You’re just a sexy librarian. Your highest goal in life was owning your own cottage house one day. How’d you get wrapped up in the tangled web of our world?”

Sasha’s mouth ran dry, her head spinning in a way that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the alcohol. How had she ended up like this? Who was to blame?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha said dizzily. “He -”

“Didn’t know you Beholding types were in the process of lying to yourselves,” Annabelle said, casually yet brutally. “No, really.”

Sasha opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I guess I just asked all the wrong questions.”

It was a pretty way of dressing up the real answer: that Sasha didn’t know. 

Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Georgie cooed sympathetically and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, honey, it’s not so bad. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s just your own rotten luck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jude called, lifting her glass. “I love my fucking life. It’s hookers, coke, and blow from here to Scotland. The life of a woman with power’s a thousand times better than the life of a woman without, James.”

“What is with you people and hedonism,” Sasha muttered. 

“Why not?” Nikola asked, tilting her head strangely. “Life’s so short when it’s this long. It’s just bread and circuses, Archivist. We all need...entertainment.”

“Humans are always trying to make sense of it all,” Michael said arily. They were digging their fingers into the table, scoring long grooves in it. “When you know there’s no meaning, no purpose, then everything else just...falls away.”

Sasha didn’t know if she believed that, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “What about those Avatars like Magnus or Raynor? They seem really...driven.”

Georgie giggled, light and airy, and leaned in. “That’s because they don’t know.”

She shouldn’t even ask. She shouldn’t - “Know what?”

Georgie smiled, sharp and wicked. “That there’s no point.”

And that was all she would say on that for the night: conversation after that devolved into parties, restaurants, drugs, and conquests. Maybe the women were right, in their own clearly demented way: that without death there was no meaning, when when there was no meaning only pleasure held any significance. If there was no afterlife, no reward or punishment - which Sasha didn’t believe, but they seemed to - then there was no reason not to do what you wanted. To have fun. To take revenge. 

If all Georgie wanted was to have fun, and if all Jon wanted was revenge, then what did Jonah Magnus want? Sasha didn’t know. She had the feeling that if she didn’t figure it out, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

Why had Jonah Magnus done this to her? What was the point of framing her for murder? She couldn’t do her job like this. What’s the point? 

Half-drunk, head spinning, she found herself vocalizing this. Somehow, Annabelle Cane had ended up sitting next to her, letting spiders run along her slightly too long and too jointed fingers. Annabelle Cane just smiled at her, jaw slightly slacking open to expose teeth. 

“Maybe it’s just to fuck with you,” Annabelle posited. “Why not? Do you think he has another reason?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha groaned. “I don’t know anything. Everything’s confusing and terrible. I could never understand those psychopaths.”

“You won’t make it very far in this line of work if you never ask why,” Annabelle scolded. She paused a second, spider running thoughtfully across her eyeball. “But too many questions damns you just as effectively, I suppose. Hm. Jonah’s quite good, isn’t he.”

“Why me,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone’s trying to keep shit from me, it fuckin’ - it fuckin’ sucks, man. It sucks. Nobody would tell me what’s going on, but I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on. Not even Jonah, or Jon, or - or anyone. Nobody but me.”

Annabelle blinked at her, somewhat curiously, before leaning in. Her perfume lingered in the air, a heavy rosy scent. “Do you know something that Jonah doesn’t?”

“Yeah,” Sasha slurred, world fading in and out. “Jonah doesn’t know that Jon -”

Then the world faded into black, and Sasha fell asleep. 

If she had felt too old for this at the nightclub, she definitely felt too old for this hangover. Sasha spent twenty minutes crouched over a toilet bowl, reluctantly shoved the Eggs Benedict in her mouth that Georgie insisted was a hangover cure, somehow, and refused the Bloody Mary that Georgie also insisted was a hangover cure that her Mum used to feed her. The thought of Georgie’s Mum filled Sasha with a deep fear, incapable of imagining somebody who was both likely born in the 1800s and who had raised a hellion like Georgie. 

When Sasha mumbled this to Georgie, she didn’t look offended. She just smiled, strangely fond. “Oh, none of this is my Mum’s fault. She was a darling, her and my Da. My childhood was positively idyllic. All things considered, you know.”

Yes, Sasha thought, struggling to imagine 1910s London in her mind, idyllic. She took another look at Georgie, squinting slightly as her head throbbed. She definitely seemed younger physically than Jon, but Jon had a particular way of carrying age about him that had nothing to do with his appearance. “When did you stop aging?”

“I forget, honestly,” Georgie said airly, sipping her own bloody mary. For some reason, Sasha didn’t believe her. “It always takes a while to notice, you know. I suppose, logically, it would be about when I died the first time.”

That, more than anything, alarmed Sasha. “I thought you couldn’t die.”

“Not permanently,” Georgie said, as if this was somehow obvious. “Eat your eggs, they’ll get cold.” Sasha frantically shoved eggs in her mouth, desperate for the story. But Georgie just sighed and propped her chin on her hand, eyes distant. “You know how it is. Small town girl, grew up in North Birmingham, Alabama - back when it was just a tiny little thing, you know. I wanted to be a star. I always did. Scared of dyin’ in the dirt. If I was gonna die young, I wanted to do it where everybody knew my name. So long as they remember you, it’s no kind of death at all, really.” She sighed, lost in memory. “I could sing so good...so I went to Harlem, ‘cause all my friends and I always had dreams of going to Harlem and making it big singing in the jazz clubs. They didn’t get so far, staying at home with their babies, but I did. Wasn’t really made for babies and such, I think.” Something strange emerged in her words, the last vestiges of a Southern accent. “I was pretty, and I could sing, and I took to the spotlight like a duck to water. It was tough, but man - if it ain’t tough, it ain’t worth it. I worked so hard. Like I was working myself to death, almost.”

She trailed off, birds softly trilling outside, and Sasha was silent. 

Quietly, Georgie began speaking again. “Got into some trouble. You know how it is. I spent dozens of years wondering if it was my fault, if there was something I coulda done differently, zig instead of zag...but now, I don’t think so. Just my own rotten luck, you know. Put my trust in the wrong people. Had the wrong sentence whispered into my ear.” She shrugged listlessly. “Couldn’t handle the truth. Just another girl who couldn’t handle the limelight, that was what they said. But I was set up to fail. All those jazz clubs were ganger run, you couldn’t avoid it. Every girl in that golden age fell prey to those men, same as I did. I just wanted to feel again. Tried everything once, just to feel something.” She sighed, taking another drink. “Got shot. Got back up. I remember it, clear as day. Must have been 1923. I scrubbed the blood out of my show dress and went back on stage that night, cuz you can’t get a rep as a flake. They said, that day...that day was my best performance.”

She trailed off, Sasha finally alert. She wanted more details, almost desperately, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk putting the whammy on her host, even if she wasn’t sure that she could. If Georgie was being purposefully vague...well, Sasha wasn’t entitled to her pain. 

Instead, she said, “I bet you were good.”

Georgie smiled at her wanly, eyes far away. “I was the best.”

They sat in silence for a little while, eating their food, Sasha’s head ringing and mind buzzing. What about this picture was she not understanding? What was so important that she was missing?

Finally, Sasha carefully floated, “I bet you must have met Jon soon after.”

Georgie looked up from her bloody mary, surprised. “Oh, yes. Just a few months after. He must have caught the word on the wind, you know, of that singing girl who got back up after getting shot in the lungs.” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand again. “Saw him in the front row of my club. He was so handsome, and so finely dressed. But there had been something strange in his eyes, you know? Like little marbles, reflecting the lamps. He caught up to me afterwards, and I figured he was just another fan to squeeze dry, but he told me in his funny little accent I’d never heard before that he could help me.” She swallowed, looking away. “That he could help me understand what was happening to me. Why I was having those strange dreams, seeing those strange tendrils. I guess he was right. After I met him, I understood it all. Things moved fast after that.” She smiled weakly at Sasha. “I suppose you know the rest.”

She really didn’t, but Sasha understood the dismissal for what it was. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me all of that.”

“It’s no secret,” Georgie said dismissively. She smiled cunningly. “A hundred years later almost exactly, and what I did to those gangsters was still my finest work. They say that if you pass by an old building on St. Nicholas Avenue, you can still hear the screams. Anyway, I have a meeting with my land development company in an hour, must run, ta!”

On that distressing note Georgie swanned out the door, and Sasha was left alone with nothing but a stack of conspiracy theories, an opulent flat, and bad memories. 

Time seemed to move quickly, yet sluggishly, after that. After another day of writing down literally every Statement she could remember off the top of her head and trying to fit them into the weird and seemingly kind of arbitrary categories that Leitner had given her, she had hit a roadblock. She couldn’t remember any more Statements, she didn’t have access to them, and the ones she did remember she either already sorted or couldn’t dredge up enough memory of them to sort them in a satisfactory way. Either that, or the Statement itself was just incomprehensible - Sasha still didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Tessa’s problem. She tended to have a better memory of the ones that seemingly mentioned the Avatars in the background, just because it had been so startling to actually meet them - and a few even mentioned Jon, usually in context of Salasea or any Eye Statement. 

When Georgie came home that night, they watched another movie and they both studiously avoided mentioning anything supernatural. Best not to take work home with you, even if Sasha had never quite been good at that. 

The next day Sasha did what she should have done in the first place, and hacked into the Magnus Institute server. 

It was seriously, comically easy. Sasha had installed a backdoor connection to the desktop of her work computer from her laptop ages ago, and all she had to do was borrow one of Georgie’s laptops and redownload the program. With an easy virtual desktop she was already in. It was somehow satisfying to see all of her work programs pop up on the borrowed laptop, and it was almost a relief to access the Archive drive that connected all of their computers. More importantly, where they all put their research follow-ups and the spreadsheet that documented the debunked, uncertain, and verified statements. It had gotten to the point where if the statement refused to record on the computer they automatically put it on verified, but what Sasha really wanted from that spreadsheet was the one sentence description they had all put for each Statement. 

From there, it was much easier. Sasha, sick of the disorganized conspiracy theorist aesthetic, made her own spreadsheet and began categorizing the verified Statements that way. Much more reliable than working from memory. 

If only she could actually access the Statements...Sasha’s life would be so much easier if everything could be digitized. The debunked ones were typed up, filed, and recorded, but the verified ones only existed on paper. Couldn’t be typed up, couldn’t be recorded. It was so stupid. 

Sasha checked the clock. Eleven am on a Wednesday. They were definitely all still working. Maybe…

It was an invasion of privacy. Did she actually care about that? No. Was she worried about apparently being locked into an employment contract with an...entity of some sort that preyed on invasions of privacy? No, although she felt like she should. Was she concerned that Jon and Jonah were trying to turn into her a conduit of this entity’s power into the world, probably gradually turning her, if not evil, at least into a giant dick? Somewhat. 

Words echoed through her mind, and Sasha’s fingers halted over the keyboard. Her powers manifesting differently than Jon’s...her unique skill with hacking…

Well, that was just kind of offensive. Sasha had worked hard for her skills. They weren’t given to her by Jon’s weird god. Also - seriously, a god? It was just a malevolent eldritch entity living in a separate dimension that encroached tendrils into Sasha’s life. There was nothing divine about it. That was just offensive. Sasha was a good feminist, transgender Catholic on the run from the law and didn’t worship false idols. 

It was only then that Sasha noticed a folder on the drive that she hadn’t created. It was labelled ‘For the Archivist’. Despite herself, she clicked on it. 

It held a few pdfs. Sasha clicked on one curiously, and saw that they were photocopies of statements. No - of Statements. She was already recognizing this one as one of those spider ones. She quickly printed them all out, conscientious of how easily supernatural files corrupted, and quickly exited the drive and the virtual desktop.

It wasn’t until Sasha was already in the kitchen and pulling down a bottle of Jack that she realized what she was doing. She sighed, replaced it, and fetched herself some sparkling water instead. She drank it slowly as she returned to her laptop and logged remotely into the police database, which she already had a backdoor into. 

It occurred to Sasha, perhaps belatedly, that if the police found her laptop and the incredible variety of highly illegal programs meant explicitly for accessing secure servers she was probably triple going to jail. This time, for something she had actually did. 

All of the hacking had never felt illegal. It had just felt...well, fun and necessary. It had never been about whether or not she should, it had been about if she could. 

Was that how it had started for Jon? Collecting household secrets because he had to, so secure the money and influence he desperately needed, because he could, because it was fun? 

Whatever. Sasha shook herself. She could have her moral crisis after she was no longer on the run from the cops for murder. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish about something that wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew, as Jon probably did, that just because something was illegal didn’t make it wrong. 

It was easy to log onto the police database and check out her own open case. She frequently checked out open homicide cases for fun, but it somehow hit a little different when it was her they were talking about. Incident, Senior Citizen, Offence: First Degree Murder, Location of Arrest: N/A, yeah, yeah, yeah…

One victim, a John Doe. Foul play was suspected...yes that’d be the gunshot wound. No witnesses. Reporting officer’s narrative...Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims the Fifth had walked into Head Archivist Sasha James’ office to discuss work with her when they found the body. Both were shocked and called the police...gun found at the scene had her fingerprints and the ballistics matched...suspect still at large. Friends and family had been contacted, everyone denied knowledge of where she was. Suspect had a noted history of mental illness...great…

The officers dispatched had been Alice Tonner and Basira Hussein. Sasha found that strange: Basira had history with one of the witnesses and the suspect, wouldn’t it be unprofessional to send her out? 

There couldn’t be that many sectioned officers, Sasha reasoned. Even if the incident hadn’t officially been sectioned, because the police report still existed, as a general rule if something happened at the Magnus Institute it was sectioned until proven otherwise. Even if the murder itself was seemingly mundane. 

Out of curiosity, she searched up Detective Tonner’s records. Been on the force for a long time, worked her way up the ranks. Very, very few cases and incident reports for a detective who had been on the force as long as she had. Sectioned, obviously, but even Basira had more official cases than she did. When Sasha clicked on the incident reports, they were extremely spotty and strange. Obvious details were omitted or censored. 

Something cold began to creep down Sasha’s spine. She found the arrest records of the latest four people with official records of Detective Tonner arresting them. 

Almost all of them had entered custody with bruises, cuts, and in one case a broken limb. They all had records down as ‘resisting arrest’. Sasha felt sick. 

There was one case that stopped strangely short. A clear perp, a rapist but one with little evidence, who Tonner had quickly caught. That was where the case ended: the report that Tonner had found his hiding spot, but no arrest, no trial, no prison sentence. When Sasha investigated the perp, she found that he had unceremoniously vanished shortly after Tonner had reported that she had found his hiding spot. A month later, a death certificate had been filed. 

Sasha stared at the death certificate, nauseated. This was who she was dealing with. A vigilante, some batshit pig who had obviously decided that the law was best taken into her own hands. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, but...if anybody looked at Sasha’s case on paper, they’d say the same thing. 

And that was just the cases on record. It was the only obvious instance Sasha could see of Tonner having offed someone just because she felt like it, but cops were good at covering shit like that up. How many other arrest records had fallen in the cracks? How many other dead perps that nobody gave a shit about? How many sectioned cases? 

God, Sasha was fucked. 

She begged off hanging out with Georgie that night, instead staying in bed with the covers pulled tight over her head as if that could ever protect her. Why was Jonah doing this to her? What did he have to gain? If he wanted her to die a mysterious death in the bottom of a ditch, why wasn’t he man enough to do it himself?

Tonner was going to murder her, Sasha thought hysterically, and she was going to pat herself on the back for keeping another monster off the streets. 

And Jon knew. The fucking hypocrite. He wasn’t going to help her. Nobody was. But, god, she was so alone…

The next morning, as if she knew, Georgie slipped Sasha a burner phone over the breakfast table as they both robotically ate quiches. 

“It should be untraceable, but just know that anybody you call you’re putting at serious risk,” Georgie warned, before her expression softened. “This’ll all be over soon, honey. I promise.”

“Did Jonah tell you that?” Sasha asked bitterly. 

“Nah. I just know those two.” Georgie delicately ate a forkful of quiche. “They get bored of terrorizing humans pretty quickly. Now, Michael’s a different story. They’ll terrorize someone for decades. I’ve seen them do it!”

“Great,” Sasha said. 

It seemed to be at this point that Georgie realized she was actually making Sasha feel much worse, because a slightly panicked expression crossed her face and she quickly reached out to pat Sasha on the hand. “But I’m sure they won’t do that to you,” Georgie said quickly. “They love you! Jon especially. Jonah’s just on another of his little power trips right now, he’ll get over it. And Jon, like, feels really bad about this whole thing. He’s been super annoying about it, actually -”

“See,” Sasha said, standing up to clear away her dishes, “I would rather handle an enemy who obviously wants to kill me than a friend whose good side I always have to be careful to stay on, who I can’t afford to ever make mad. I guess that’s the only difference left between me and you people.”

She angrily put her dishes in the sink, where the housekeeper would do them, and stalked to what was rapidly becoming her room, slamming the door. 

Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the burner phone. Tim wouldn’t be at work yet. They could talk. They could - 

Do what? Get back together? Split up? Could he explain, beg for her forgiveness? Did she have to apologize too? Sasha didn’t understand. 

That was rare for her. She understood a lot of things, or at least she thought she did. Maybe she had been lying to herself, about everything: that her and Tim were a good idea, that Martin was sketchy,  that Jon was evil, that Jon was kind, that Georgie just wanted to help her, that there was nothing that Jonah Magnus would do to her, that she was safe and human and a good person. 

God, her capacity for self-delusion was ridiculous. But maybe people needed a little bit of self-delusion to survive. Nobody could live in complete honesty, in full sight of their flaws and shortcomings. You could burn away, living like that. 

No. No time or space for fear. Sasha wasn’t afraid of anything. If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true. She desperately punched in a number that she didn’t remember memorizing, holding the phone desperately to her ear, her one connection to humanity. 

It rung, and rung, and one, and Sasha’s heart thumped in her chest. 

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a slightly sleepy voice punctuated the dead air. “Hello?”

“Tim, it’s me,” Sasha burst out, everything she wanted to say to him rushing through her throat and choking her, and she burst into tears. 

Distantly, through the sound of her crying, she could hear Tim on the other side losing his shit, and eventually wrangling himself to calmness. 

It was almost funny, how they could work each other up like that. Eventually, by the time Sasha had managed to wrangle her own crying, Tim had calmed himself down enough that he was able to clumsily try to cheer her up. 

“We’re all fine. Everyone’s perfectly safe. Martin’s gotten, uh, even more annoying since you left, and we’ve technically hired Melanie, which is - not good but it’s funny? Are you still crying? Please don’t still be crying.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha hiccuped. She rubbed at her red eyes. God, she’d missed him. “Tim, what happened?”

The line was silent for a while. Finally, he said, “Is this line secure?”

“Uh - probably? I mean -” Sasha quickly checked herself. She didn’t want to mention Georgie. The less he knew the better. “ - it’s a burner, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not the one who bought it.”

“Where are you living?” Tim asked harshly. “Are you homeless? You have to come stay with me, I can -”

“You mean the first place Tonner will look?” Sasha shot back. “No. I’m safe, I’m dry, things are fine. That’s all you need to know.” She softened her voice. “I promise, if it was safe I’d tell you more. I want to see you again. Tim, I - I’m really sorry.”

Tim laughed hoarsely, without humor. “Shouldn’t it be me saying that? I’m the one who thought you were a monster.”

“...yeah, that one’s on you.” Sasha sighed miserably, lying down on her bed, wishing Tim was next to her. “I am, though. A monster, I mean. Tim, I - I’m definitely not entirely human anymore.”

“God, Sash, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Tim said, laughing slightly again. “Can you just tell me what happened? I know you didn’t fucking do it. That dick Bouchard keeps playing dumb and his shitlead lackey keeps on avoiding the Archives. I bet Sims killed that old man, right? He totally did. Martin keeps on saying that his precious Jon wouldn’t let you take the fall for something he did, but I’m not so sure.”

“I...it’s more complicated than that.”

Sasha explained in short order. For once, Tim was totally silent the entire time, letting Sasha dispassionately recite the entire sad story. She finished it at Michael helping her escape, not detailing where she had been dropped off. 

Finally, after a long silence, Tim said, “So this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said harshly. “You were manipulated, same as I was.”

“I’m the idiot who -”

“Yes, you were being an idiot. You should have talked to me, talked to anyone. You should have done anything other than your homicidal partner in crime. You definitely shouldn’t have been buying a fucking black market gun when I know for a fact you have no idea how to shoot. But you tried playing hero and you played straight into Magnus’ hands. You fucked up. Okay? Now let’s try to do better.”

More silence, until Tim sighed. “Can’t believe the Douche’s Jonah Magnus. Explains why Sims is always playing lackey for him. Can’t wait to spill to Martin how his boyfriend framed his boss for murder.”

Sasha chewed her lip, uncertain. She hadn’t shared the details of Jonah and Jon’s conversation too closely - it had seemed private. “See, I’m not sure this is...entirely Jon’s fault.”

Tim groaned. “Not you too! Why is everyone but me and Melanie a fucking Sims apologist?”

“Jon and Jonah are...they’re weird, okay?” Sasha moved to chewing her hair, uncertain of how to describe it. If it should even be described. It seemed so private, so unsuitable to name...but maybe everybody thinking that was how these things stayed perpetuated for so long. “I think Jonah’s kind of, you know, abusive?”

The line went silent again. 

“Wow,” Tim said finally, “Martin’s going to be so disappointed his boyfriend’s taken.”

“They’re just friends! I think. I’m like, ninety percent sure. But you didn’t hear them, Tim. They’re really...it’s messed up. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Sash, why are you defending someone who fucked all of us over like this? Sims is a big boy, he’s responsible for his own shitty decisions and the shitty company he keeps.” Tim snorted. “I’ve heard them talk, anyway. If anything, Magnus is the one always giving into Sims and his little tantrums. Jesus, I just want to throttle the both of them.”

“Maybe you need to get over your anger issues and focus on actually solving the problem for once,” Sasha snapped. “Nobody has time for your revenge fantasy, Tim! We need to fix all of this.”

“Which one is it, Sash?” Tim asked coldly. “Was I manipulated, or was it my anger issues and hero complex? Are you going to decide if this is my fault or not?”

Sasha’s heart stuttered in her chest. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she knew - that it was everything, that it was all of the above, that he was manipulated through his anger issues and hero complex, that Tim had been pushed in a direction but he had taken the steps all by himself. But she couldn’t blame him entirely, because Sasha had been manipulated the same way, and so had Jon and Martin and Georgie, and if she started thinking like that then she would have to start hating the whole damn world. 

“Tim, are we going to stay together?” Sasha whispered, broken-hearted. “Can we even still be together? I love you. I want you here with me. But there’s so much ugliness that’s growing between us. I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

A long silence again. Sasha wanted to be there with him, to read his face, to see what he was thinking. She had always understood him so well, or at least she thought that he did. 

“I love you too,” Tim said finally. “I want to fix this too. I - I don’t know, Sasha. I love you. The thought of you alone, in danger, and not even knowing where you are, is fucking me up. It’s like Danny all over again, Sasha, I can’t handle this. Can we have this conversation again when I know you’re safe?”

“Okay,” Sasha said, and she knew that this was probably the best both of them could do right now. “Are we staying together?”

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sasha repeated again, and sighed. “I won’t call you from this phone twice. I’m doing the best I can here. I’m safe, I think. Things will be okay, Tim.”

“Sash,” Tim said, “I don’t remember the last time things were okay.”

And neither did she, and they both knew it, and she hung up on him without saying anything further. She lay on the bed, listening faintly to the sound of the housekeeper vacuuming, staring up at the fan as it beat in a steady rhythm on the ceiling. 

Was Tim right? Was she reading too much into Jon and Jonah? It wasn’t her job to fix Jon, to puzzle out his weird psychology. Maybe he was just an asshole without a spine,and there wasn’t anything more to that.

No. Sasha didn’t believe that. This was a puzzle that she hadn’t solved yet, and she had the feeling that at the heart of this puzzle was the key to finally keeping herself and Tim safe. She couldn’t abide a mystery, couldn’t trick herself into thinking that the truth wasn’t important. The truth was all Sasha had. She couldn’t close her eyes to it, that awful and ugly reality. 

Tim...he had been such a bad idea. But he had always been her favorite one: the way he could always cheer her up, his bright and bold smile, his courage and heart and sensitivity and vulnerability. He had loved her, truly and wholly, for who she was. He knew the ugly corners of her and loved them as much as he loved her best attributes. 

Was that still true? Was Sasha turning into a person that Tim just couldn’t love? Was Tim turning into someone that Sasha couldn’t love? 

People changed. Sometimes they changed apart. And for some strange reason, Sasha just couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

Lying on the bed of a grim reaper, crying like a broken-hearted teenager, Sasha didn’t notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum had stopped running. She didn’t notice the knock on the door, or the creak of the door opening, or the gentle rise and fall of voices. She only heard it when there was a soft knock at her own door, and she was forced to roll off the bed to open her bedroom door. 

Standing in front of her, looking nervous, was the housekeeper. Standing behind her was Jonathan Sims. 

He looked pretty bad, Sasha noted clinically. Eye bags, even more pronounced than usual, stood starkly under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as cropped short and styled as it usually was. It had grown out a little, making Jon look more like a tired modern guy walking the streets of London than a centuries old immortal psychic vampire. He was still dressed in a suit, as he always was, but the suit jacket was off and his dress shirt was rolled up to the elbow.

He stared at Sasha, probably registering every minute change in her appearance as she did his, before glancing down at the housekeeper. “You’re excused for the day. Thank you for your time.”

He passed her something - probably neatly folded bills - and nodded at her as she shakily nodded back and escaped the flat as quickly as possible. Jon stepped backwards in the hallway, gesturing for her to come out, and walked back into the living room. Because Sasha was just slightly too prideful to barricade herself in the bedroom, and partly because she wasn’t sure that Jon wouldn’t break into a woman’s bedroom, she stepped out into the grandiose yet cluttered living room with him. He stood in the center, hands in his pockets, looking over the flat with a clinical eye. 

“Georgie’s sense of interior decoration is as immaculate as ever,” Jon noted clinically. “She used to spend months getting every house we ever lived in just right. Said it was her job as lady of the household. She had never been a lady of any household, of course, not in the way that Jonah and I had once known - but her fun’s important to her, and it doesn’t hurt anybody important.” He sniffed slightly. “You coming to stay here was for the best after all. She’s been lonely, I think.” 

“I’m staying here because I’m homeless,” Sasha said flatly. For the first time, she noticed a small manila envelope under his arm, tucked slightly into his back pocket. “Because of you.”

“I’ve kept your flat for you,” Jon said eagerly, stepping forward, and letting his cold mask fall. In him now was something eager, something almost pleading. Sasha forced herself not to step away. “All of your possessions are intact, and I can get your bank accounts unfrozen easily enough. Once all of this blows over, your life can be right back to normal.”

“Wow,” Sasha drawled, crossing her arms, “how kind. Were you so busy being this nice to me that you forgot that Georgie barred you from this flat because I don’t want to fucking look at you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Jon said dismissively. “She’s been wanting us to make up, anyhow.” He stepped closer again, fluorescent green eyes fixed on her large and warm brown ones, and Sasha fought the tingle crawling up her spine. “Sasha, I really am sorry. Jonah was out of line in what he did. But - but you know, he really does know best. Even if it doesn’t seem so. What we’re doing now, it’s for the best for your development. I promise this will all blow over soon, and things will be better. For all of us.”

“For a subject of a truth god,” Sasha said, voice dripping sarcasm, “you have a unique ability to lie to yourself.”

Jon puffed up, scowling down at her. “That’s ridiculous. I -”

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed. 

Jon...hesitated, and they both saw it. Jon frantically tried to cover, quickly saying, “Of course he does. I’m his partner, and we’ve been partners for two hundred years. There’s nobody on earth he respects more than me. There’s nobody he respects but me.”

“Then why does he talk to you like you’re an idiot?”

“He talks to everyone like that.”

“Because he doesn’t respect anyone but you. You just said that. But if he respects you, then wouldn’t he talk to you differently?”

There it is - Jon’s shoulders hunched slightly, unconsciously on the defensive. “Does he give you equal input on decisions?”

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

Jon was silent. Finally, slowly, he said, “Jonah was right. He said you’d get like this.”

Fuck. Sasha’s heart sank, even as her jaw dropped in incredulity. She had lost him. “You must be kidding.”

“He said you’d get jealous.” Jon crossed his arms, turning slightly away from her, but what he clearly meant to be a closed-off stance just seemed defensive. “He said that you’d get upset that I’m more loyal to him than to you. What we’re doing now is for your own good, Miss James. You’ll see one day that this - this unpleasantness is helping you grow.”

Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness?! Putting her life at risk was an inconvenience? “I’ll see, huh?” Sasha said bitterly. “Just like you saw? Just like how you changed your mind from this being cruel and traumatic to it being a momentary unpleasantness?” She barked a short laugh, not very humorous at all. “I was there. He called you stupid, he said that you couldn’t trust anybody but him, and he called you an idiot. Are those the words of someone who respects you? Of someone who even likes you?”

Jon stiffened, mouth tightening, and he broke eye contact and looked away. “Don’t concern yourself with the private business between Jonah and I.”

“When you’re having the conversation over a cooling corpse that you framed me for then you’re making it my business, you absolute shitheel!” Sasha yelled, finally losing her temper. “Your bullshit is ruining my life! Your complete inability to stand up to that sack of shit is ruining my life!”

“Shut up!” Jon yelled, seemingly having taken her losing her temper as permission to lose his. Distantly, Sasha was aware of his stupid this must have looked: two fully grown adults, yelling in a living room like children. “You’re a spoiled child who doesn’t know anything! All I’ve ever done is try to help you, and you spit in my face! You’re no better than Martin!”

Abruptly, strangely, Jon stopped short. He seemed almost embarrassed, almost in pain. 

And just like that, Sasha knew. “He’s not letting you see Martin, is he.”

For just a split second, Jon’s expression crumpled, but he forced it back into his haughty mask. “I decided that it was best I didn’t waste my time with manipulative traitors.”

“Was that your idea?” Sasha asked flatly, abruptly extremely tired. “Or was it Jonah’s?”

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer. 

“If you walked up to Jonah now and told him that you wanted to start dating Martin, do you think that you’d leave that conversation still wanting to do it? Or would you somehow decide, all by yourself, that you’ll end up doing what Jonah wants anyway?”

Jon didn’t say anything.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Anger and disgust mixed with pity and sadness. What had Jon been like, before he met Jonah Magnus? Had he been a good person?

But maybe that wasn’t so important. Maybe the question that had to be asked was - what kind of person would Jonathan Sims be without Jonah Magnus in his life?

All at once, the fight seemed to go out of Jon. His shoulders sagged, and he abruptly deflated. He looked down at the ground, ashamed and aware of it. He had always been aware of it. He had just been lying to himself. Maybe it was impossible to live without it. 

“I don’t know what to do without him,” Jon said quietly. “I’ve never - I need him.”

“You don’t,” Sasha said, abruptly exhausted. “You want to help me, Jon? You want to protect me and Martin? You can’t do that while staying friends with Jonah Magnus. You have to choose. So long as you stay close to him, you are going to stay within his complete control. That’s what he does. He controls everybody and everything. And you’re letting him. You’re justifying it. You’re doing his work for him. Everybody around him is - even Georgie. There are two people in your life who are trying to get you away from him, and he’s trying to convince you to cut them out of your life. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. Weakly, he said, “You’re wrong.”

“I need your help, Jon,” Sasha whispered, and to her shame found her voice cracking. “I need someone on my side. I can do it alone, but - but I’m scared. And I don’t want to. I need help. I’m scared.”

But she knew, even as she said it, that Jon was scared too. He couldn’t reach out a hand to her - not now, not here. Jon had carried around his fear for hundreds of years, pushing it down and pretending it wasn’t there, and it informed everything he’d ever done. Scrambling for power, exerting that power, desperately dominating even as he was dominated - it stemmed from that fear, all of it. And Jonah Magnus kept those flames fanned, because a Jon who was afraid was a Jon who could be controlled. 

A Sasha who was afraid, who was isolated, who was trapped, was one who could be controlled. 

The realization was dizzying. Somehow, the thought that kept running through her mind was - who’d do that? Who was such a terrible person that they’d go through all that trouble, all of that plotting, just to make someone suffer? Not because they disliked them, not in revenge, not because of any human emotion - but just because it was convenient? Useful?

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all. 

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon. 

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago. 

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find. 

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway. 

Like Jon - what choice did she have? 

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire. 

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help. 

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”

[transsexualhamlet]

me going off about yoichi again

What the fandom sees Yoichi as: basic ass katy perry song from 2014

What Yoichi actually is: Karma by ajr

I mean, I don’t really know how this applies to the fandom now, but it’s definitely anime fans and most yoichi fans. I just, I wanted to watch a yoichi amv because I was working on Yoichi stuff but like. I could not find a SINGLE one that was even voiced by a guy?

Now, in general, that’s not an issue, just because he’s a guy obviously doesn’t mean that he can’t have a girl song because that would be dumb to say so. But that’s just not something I see for anyone else. When I see Mika or Guren or Yu centric amvs and stuff, there’s plenty of edgy boi songs and shit. Sometimes Mika gets sexy bitch songs as a joke, but when they’re actually trying to be about that character, they’re all songs sung by dudes. 

And I mean, I just...

Here.

Yeah so @autpunk-godling​ and I like to complain about kagami I know but right now I’d like to complain about the fandom

I don’t really think it’s any of you on tumblr to be honest but it’s just the shit I’ve seen from a few years ago

Yes we’ve established that Yoichi isn’t a smol baby bean boi so fucking stop, a lot of people just kinda ignore that but even without the manga, even without taking into consideration a single thing he said in chapter 51 onwards, the way that the fandom likes to see him is just... not right.

yeah I’m defending him bc i’m a yoichi kinnie go off ig

Jupiter’s response pretty much sums it up but basically it boils down to

1. fangirls who see yoichi, think “gay”, and think they know his entire character because of a stereotype, honestly this was probably something to do with kagami, I feel like I’ve heard around for a long time Yu was supposed to have a fucking harem like guren and they just basically never developed yoichi beyond ‘clearly is gay for yu as a plot point for like three episodes before forgetting about him after school arc’

2. The fans basically just thinking that he just ✨ tried harder ✨ not to have trauma and now he’s fucking fine, I was glad to see that wasn’t the case but people don’t understand how or why it happened, I’ll gladly explain

3. People forget so easily how terrible he had it. It’s not just “gay boy fucking mans up” it’s “gay boy is consistently told for eight years that he’s completely useless if he can’t kill things and every trait he has is terrible because it’s weak and associated with gayness so he internalizes that to an unhealthy degree”

I mean, I’ll try to explain how I see his character, but yeah.

Back to my “I don’t understand how people were suprised when Yoichi admitted he would have killed himself if Yu hadn’t showed up” point... do you remember what he was like back in school arc?

He was not ok. Bro, that guy was so soft and scared. He didn’t want to hurt or offend anyone. He didn’t want to get into any conflict and his first instinct was to submit to abuse or run away. He was desperate for validation and friendship, and he fell for things like bullying easily because he wouldn’t fight back and he wanted someone to like him so bad. He didn’t really want to be in the army, he was glad he got saved even if his sister didn’t make it, he didn’t truly want revenge. Obviously he wasn’t over it, but he didn’t think “boy howdy do I want to kill a vampire”. 

The only reason that he got so stuck on that was because it’s been pounded into his head from moment one. He got called every manner of weak, weakling, wuss, crybaby you can think of by not just shitty high schoolers but by authority figures. They live in a militarized society where your worth is determined by your physical and mental strength, so people with disabilities, mental illnesses, shit like that- they’re not doing so hot. Their way of dealing with Kids Have Trauma is “get over it” or “seek revenge against the vampires who did it”. This is actually a thing Kureto stated very clearly at the beginning of resurrection when he gave his dumbass speech to a bunch of traumatized 11 year olds right after the catastrophe. He’s weaponizing a bunch of kids by putting all these ideas into their head- giving them all fucking hero and martyr complexes because it makes them better soldiers. He tells them that they should want to get revenge and they should be strong and suck it up and use strong emotions against them.

So Yoichi basically grew up conditioned to absolutely fucking hate himself because that’s the ideal. He isn’t like that, and so he sees Yu who is basically the shining example of that kind of thinking, at that point in time. Basically just toxic masculinity central. He’s aggressive and strong, is much quicker to pull a sword on someone than hold out a hand, doesn’t want to make friends, he’s serious and dead set on revenge, he doesn’t cry in front of people and he uses his trauma as a weapon. Yu’s actually a total dick at the beginning of the story, to be honest, and I was surpised to find out the shit he said straight to Yoichi’s face. “give up” “weaklings like you would only get in the way” “nice guys like you shouldn’t be here” “we’re not here to make friends” basically telling him to suck it up or leave, bro, the dude was a fucking jackass to Yoichi, and Yoichi internalizes everything these people say to him, he believes every terrible thing people say.

And Yoichi still completely idolizes him because that’s everything Yoichi isn’t, as this obviously queer coded side character, and everything Yoichi is told he’s supposed to be. *clears throat* toxic masculinity

So in the beginning of the story Yoichi aspires to people like Yu and Kimizuki who are very,,, not open with their emotions. Gee whiz I wonder why he’s keeping up this facade to all his friends instead of trying to sit down and talk about how fucked up he is now. But let’s now talk about how Yoichi got to be the way he is now.

People, again, seem to think that when he got a demon he just decided to stop being traumatized or something, that he just finally got the strength to deal with that and it wasn’t a problem again because he gained confidence. But uh... remember what actually snapped him out of being possessed? You’d immediately go to Yu, but when Yu said all those idealistic things about friendship, Yoichi was still pointing his weapon at Yu. What actually stopped him?

Right after that, it was Guren telling him that becoming a demon was the equivalent to running away and hiding. (which, well, guren, I have a few things to say about that but)

He didn’t stop having those internalized ideals, the things he’d been told over years didn’t just go away or suddenly work at “fixing” him. He was just accused another time of being weak. He didn’t get over or resolve his trauma in any way, he just found a different way to deal with it, with a demon. The reason this actually works for him is that if you’ve literally ever looked closely at the times Yoichi interacts with demon stuff, he’s very innately talented at it, which is odd. He was completely immune to Guren’s test, he came back from being possessed out of sheer force of will, he learned manifestation by himself, he talks to his demon like he’s the one that Gekkouin should be scared of. He finally found something he was good at, that made him strong, and boy, he really clung to that one. He found a way to make himself the ideal they all wanted: in control, powerful, an asset to the team, stuck on revenge and without hesitation to kill- even if it’s not really something he should aspire to be. He just hides the fact that it’s a problem even more because it’s not something he’s supposed to talk about. because. toxic masculinity-

And so if you realize that, it’s not very surprising to see that reveal coming the whole time.

Simply put, if you liked yoichi, y’all should have realized he was never ok. Boy’s got issues. He’s a really complex character that, well, kagami kind of fails to do justice, but the fandom just kind of warps into smol uwu bean boi I could go on but my brain isn’t working so take this

[recurring-polynya]

I’m a huge RenRuki fan so I’m stoked to find this page of glorious work and active engagement relating to this topic I could go on about! I was wondering... during their separation, do you think Renji and Rukia slept with/dated other people? One more than the other? Just wanna know your insight since you put so much depth into their relationship. I love it. (I personally like to think that Renji had a bit of a “hoe phase” especially while he was in the 11th)

Tumblr is so great, I can’t believe people actually value my opinion on this stuff (this is absolutely one of my favorite topics). Thank you so much for your kind words, and I am ecstatic for the opportunity to pontificate on this topic.

Just to clarify, if you were asking for my opinion on the source material, and I had to “support my opinion” or “cite references”, my actual interpretation of canon is that no, they were absolutely celibate during this time. Rukia had a cute li’l crush on her vice-captain and Renji probably went on one very heterosexual date with a girl once and felt bad about it for a year.

When I am being generous and world-buildy, I like to consider the fact that shinigami are souls. They do not have bodies or hormones and so I can get behind the idea that bonds of family and friendship are far more important than sex and attraction, because those are fundamentally earthly concerns. In the hands of a thoughtful, talented, preferably ace writer, this could be an incredibly interesting setting but that is, uh, not consistent with any other aspect of Soul Society, including the fact that they sell sexy calendars of the captains, plus Kubo took the time out to canonically remind us that Soul Reapers poop and have babies.

So, instead, here is the horny Polynya headcanon version, which is what you probably wanted anyway. I’m putting it under a cut because it gets a little R-rated, and also it’s hella long, but the short answer is Renji absolutely had a slutty phase.

Some people headcanon that Rukia and Renji were actually in a romantic relationship at the time of her adoption, and if that’s your reading of it, and you want to believe that they waited for each other out of loyalty, I suppose I can get behind that.

I don’t think they were together, though. I waver from time to time about how physical their affection got in Rukongai, but I think they fell in love and never admitted it. When their last friend died, they both became absolutely terrified of losing the other, so they came to the Seireitei in order to get strong and not die. I don’t think Rukia ever wanted to be Soul Reaper, to be honest. Given the strength of her principles and her particular moral code, I do think she is a great one, in the style of “I would never want to be in a club that would have me in it.” Consistent with Oetsu’s trial in the Royal Realm, I think Renji was born (died?) to be a Soul Reaper and Rukia knew this and also that he would never go unless she went with him. She absolutely regarded getting him into Shin’ou as saving his life and getting him where he belonged.

Once they were in school, I think they had to keep their distance socially if they wanted to succeed. The Gotei runs entirely on nepotism, and Rukongai kids who don’t adapt are looking at Squad 11 or 4, best case scenario. Even if they were aware of their feelings for each other, they had to play it cool for now. Renji is a long-term planner, and I think he set his sights on pass tests -> graduate -> get Gotei position -> live happily ever after with Rukia. Rukia is not so good at long term planning, and also not so good at formal education and I think she just got depressed and salty, especially because she was never sure if he actually returned her feelings or not. I absolutely think that when she accepted the adoption, she assumed she was leaving Renji to his live his best life, and at least going somewhere she was wanted.

Even though we, the reader, are presented this story as a tragedy, in many ways, this is exactly what they had hoped for. They lived. That’s it. That’s all they ever wanted. Renji got to have his perfect job and Rukia got to live in indescribable luxury. They are both so, so happy about this and have no idea why their faces are so wet right now.

The last thing either of them wants, to be honest, is the other one pining after them. They have each accepted trudging through their life in misery because they think they have made the other happy. There’s a scene were Byakuya shows up to the Squad 6 holding cells to announce to Rukia that he has no plans to save her, and Renji looks just devastated, not just because Rukia’s gonna die, but because he thought he was sending her to happiness.

Also, on a meta level, I am middle aged, and for me, the romance of only ever being with one person is boring as hell. The idea that they would get together and lose their virginity to each other just makes me indescribably tired. Childhood-friends-to-lovers isn’t actually that interesting to me-- it is the separation itself that makes it spicy-- that they went off and had other life experiences-- and sexual experiences, and came back found that they loved this person even more now.

I headcanon Rukia as very horny and pro-sex in theory, but has is a big problem of opportunity. On one hand, I think she and Byakuya have a firm don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy, where as long as she stays out of the gossip columns, he doesn’t care what she does. On the other hand, though, I feel like secret affairs are kinda hard to manage, especially since she entered the noble network late in life. Anyway, I figure she’s had a number of casual affairs, mostly with other nobles who are invested in not getting caught, and also do not have any interest in any sort of emotional attachment. I think Rukia is absolutely bi, and mostly slept with ladies because they were more likely to be discreet, although there was probably a dude or two in there somewhere. Rukia only has two relatinship modes-- detached and ride-or-die, and she was very careful to keep everything in category 1, because she had no expectation of ever having a functional relationship that would go anywhere; no one she was actually interesting in being with would ever pass Kuchiki muster. I think she tried dating a nice boy from Squad 8 once, and everyone in Squad 13 thought it was the cutest thing they had ever seen. They went on three dates and never kissed and Rukia hated it and never did it again. She let herself have a huge crush on both Kaien and Miyako Shiba, because she was absolutely sure it could never go anywhere, and that definitely played into her devastation at their death. She may have had some Bad Decisions Sex in the wake of that, but I think for the most part, the affairs became more trouble than they were worth, and she’s been on a pretty long dry spell around the time we meet her.

That being said, I think Rukia is a lady who takes care of herself, if you get my drift. I think she has an extensive collection of erotic romance novels, a good imagination, and Kuchiki money worth of self-service sex toys. I think by the time she and Renji actually hook up, she has decades worth of pent up fantasies, and fortunately for her, he is intrigued by her ideas and would like to sign up for her newsletter, please and thank you.

Speaking of Renji, let’s talk about Renji! After Rukia left, I think Renji Made Some Plans and buckled down into a long, hard haul of Making Himself Worthy of Seeing Rukia Again. He made it through school, he went into Squad 5 with Izuru and Momo and... lost 90% of his momentum. This is exactly the scenario of the kid who busts ass through college to follow their dream, and then two years into their dream job, realizes that they are going to be formatting pivot tables in Excel for the next 15 years before they get to do anything remotely interesting. At this point, Renji is young, hot, bisexual, inked, and not very satisfied with his day job, and Thus Began the Ho Period.

Momo and Izuru hate this. They hate it so much. They have both had big crushes on Renji since school and they are right there. It wouldn’t be so bad if he would find a nice sweet partner that they like, but no, he just goes off on weeknights and comes home reeking of alcohol and covered in hickeys and ruining his career even though his job performance is actually fine. The fact is, even though he has always acted like he doesn’t know, of course he knows they like him, he’s not dumb, but Izuru and Momo are the type of people who mate for life, and Renji absolutely knows how badly he would break their hearts. He can’t even talk about it with them, all he can do it pretend like he doesn’t notice and hope they’ll realize what trash he is. He still loves Rukia and will always love Rukia and has made peace with the idea that he will likely never get to be with her-- he’s still working towards it because he must, because it would kill him to give up, but he knows that he’s only good for a fight or a fuck and not much else. Their friendship gets increasingly strained until Momo and Izuru can’t understand anything he does and he can’t stand them caring so damn much.

Anyway, this escalates in deciding to leave Nice, Respectable Squad 5 entirely, and joining the French Foreign Legion Squad 11. Squad 11 respects a man’s right to wallow, and Renji takes a swan dive to rock bottom. His only saving grace is his training with Ikkaku, which he takes absolutely seriously. Yumichika eventually takes interest in Renji, and teaches him how to take care of his hair and have standards. Yumichika and Ikkaku realize that if they can make him Functional, they can get him to do paperwork, so they help him beat the Sixth Seat and let him start hanging out with their friends.

Renji is still sleeping around at this point, but at least he’s sleeping around with a better class of people. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Polynya, has Matsumoto ever pegged Renji? (You probably weren’t actually thinking that) The answer is yes, Matsumoto has absolutely pegged Renji, and she was utterly delighted to give Rukia tips later on. Rukia does not begrudge Renji his slutty period in the least, because she knows that, given the opportunity, she probably would have been Worse, and also, he’s slept with 3/4 of the Gotei and picked her out of all of them, and also, he’s just incredible at oral.

The slutty phase tapered off when Renji had a bit of an actual relationship with Shuuhei. First of all, they are absolutely each other’s types, physically. Secondly, Shuuhei (whom I headcanon as significantly less pathetic and more bisexual than in canon) would be able to handle being in a relationship that is fun and supportive, even if it’s not destined to last. He is well aware that Renji is devoted to beating Captain Kuchiki and that he’s never going to truly be able to be in love with anyone until he gets some closure with Rukia, but that’s a long way off, and Shuuhei’s got his own baggage, who doesn’t have baggage? So they sleep together and go to the bar together and hold hands sometimes and tool around on the motorbike and wear a lot of leather and Hisagi cooks Renji food and Renji eats it and they’re pretty happy for a few years.

Eventually, around the time he gets serious about trying to make vice-captain, Renji starts to hang out with Izuru and Momo again, who have recently made vice-captain themselves, and are really happy to see that he’s gotten himself back on the wagon. He’s started thinking about Rukia a lot again, and he’s feeling a little bad because he loves Shuuhei, but he’s not in love with Shuuhei, and also, Shuuhei and Izuru have started looking at each other when they go out drinking, so Renji claims he needs to concentrate on the vice-captain’s exam and they have some nice breakup sex and then he sliiiiiides on outta there like a good bro and is very happy for his friends when they start hooking up.

Did that cover it? Boy, I had a lot of thoughts on that, huh? To summarize: They both saw other people. Renji had way more sex, just a tremendous amount of sex, but always carried a torch for Rukia (not really intentionally, I think he would have liked to be able to get over her, he just couldn’t), whereas I think she really did give up on him for a while.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, please read my fanfiction, where I am constantly hinting at all this stuff, I swear I will eventually finish that Squad 11 story.

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 12

A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the weird formatting of this post. I am currently at work and have tons of down time. The work computers are not letting me log into Tumblr, so I have to post from my tablet, which is why this looks weird. I will however edit it once I get home, I just wanted to post this ASAP before I am bombarded by things to do at home or forget to post. Too many days have gone by and I have been anxious to update. Anyway, here is a new chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it. Things are starting to change my dears.... change is coming. As always, feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

The next few days after the call you got from Namjoon were a blur. You wanted to tell Jaehyun about it right away, but as soon as he came to your apartment after being gone for the weekend, he ravaged you all night. After that, you were so immersed with work and meeting deadlines that it slipped your mind and the right time to tell Jaehyun never came.

It was Thursday and Jaehyun invited you to dinner, claiming that you both needed a date night. He was going to get ready in his own apartment and he said he would pick you up at seven. He instructed you to dress in your fanciest outfit because the place he was taking you to was a trendy new restaurant and they had a strict dress code.

You were excited to say the least, because Jaehyun was always so thoughtful with his date ideas.

You found a gorgeous red silk dress that hugged your curves perfectly; the neckline making your neck look long and elegant, the delicate thin straps attracted attention to your collarbones and the slit drew attention to your thigh. You felt incredibly sexy and you knew Jaehyun would enjoy it too. It had been sitting in your closet for the longest time and you were glad to finally have a reason to wear it. You made your hair in waves that cascaded down your back and your makeup was neutral but elegant. You wore your diamond studs and a dainty diamond necklace to go with it. After pairing your gold strappy heels, you grabbed a black shawl and your clutch, anxiously waiting for Jaehyun to arrive. You just hoped that you could concentrate on your date and not on the fact that now you had about a week to answer Namjoon. As punctual as ever, Jaehyun knocked on your door, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. Opening the door, your breath was taken away by the sight of a gorgeous Jaehyun in front of you.

“Wow, you look amazing.” Jaehyun complimented, eyes scanning your body in that gorgeous red dress. To say that his pulse quickened would be an understatement, he just wished he could keep his hands to himself until dinner was over.

“You too.” You say breathlessly, Jaehyun looked amazing in his charcoal grey suit, the top three buttons of his black shirt were undone, giving you a glance of his chest.

“I got you these.” He murmurs, giving you a bouquet of red roses.

You hadn’t noticed that he was holding them, you were focused on his gorgeous face, his hair styled in a way that showed off his beautiful bone structure.

“Thank you.” You smiled, taking the flowers from him and placing them in a vase with water.

“We should get going, they’re pretty strict with their reservation times.” Jaehyun said, grabbing your clutch and shawl.

“Okay, lets go.” You agree, walking out of your apartment and locking it.

Jaehyun held your hand and squeezed it, giving you a small smile. Once inside the elevator, he stood there and kept his gaze focused on the door. He seemed to be a little nervous and you were not sure as to why. You placed your hand on his cheek, turning his head towards you and placed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You okay? You seem a bit distracted.” You comment, noticing he is not his usual talkative self.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled, not really convincing you.

Before you could say anything else, the elevator door opened and Jaehyun took you by the hand once again and led you to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was short but you could tell something was off. Jaehyun was making small talk, but his eyes were very shifty and his hands were clammy. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well and still felt obligated to bring you out on a date. You instantly felt bad, you didn’t want him to go out of his way to take you on a date if he wasn’t feeling well.

The car came to a stop and Jaehyun got out and walked to your side to open your door like the true gentleman he is. The valet took the car and you were impressed at the level of sophistication this restaurant had. You felt giddy about coming to such a fancy place but nervous at the same time because of Jaehyun’s attitude. He held your hand as you walked into the restaurant and up to the hostess podium. The hostess, dressed smartly in an all-black ensemble, took you to your table that was in a more private part of the busy restaurant. The whole place oozed sophistication and you were happy Jaehyun took the time to bring you here. It was fancier and more expensive than the usual places you went with him, but you were not complaining at the change in scenery.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re being very quiet.” You ask, noting how Jaehyun has not been doing a lot of eye contact with you.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I am just a little tired.” He said but you were not convinced. He had his eyes trained on the bread basket as he nibbled on it. You tried not to get frustrated because you did not want to ruin your date at such a nice place. You decided to give him his space until he decided when he wanted to speak to you.

You felt your phone vibrate in your clutch and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as to who could be messaging you at this time. You had a few text messages from an unknown number which further confused you. Opening them up, you had a good idea as to who they belonged to.

Unknown: Hey, I know it must have been a shock to see me again

Unknown: I’m sorry if I took you by surprise, but I knew if you had known beforehand, you would not have wanted to work with me.

Unknown: I hope you know that I’m doing this for the mutual benefit of your company and mine.

You tried not to roll your eyes as you read Chanyeol’s messages, he is as imposing as ever.

Me: How did you get my number Chanyeol?

Unknown: Wendy gave it to me when I asked

‘Of course, poor trusting Wendy would fall into his nice-guy trap. He probably told her some crap about needing to speak to me about work stuff. The bastard knows my office hours.’ You thought annoyed as you put your phone away in your clutch.

When you looked up, you noticed Jaehyun looking at you and you instantly felt bad. Even though he was being quiet, it was rude and ill-mannered to be on your phone in the presence of company.

“Sorry,” You smiled sheepishly, “It was a work thing.” You explained, internally cringing at the mild lie. Technically, it was a work message since Chanyeol is a client even if the message wasn’t work related.

“It’s okay.” He said with a small smile. He reached across the table to hold on to your hand, intertwining your fingers together and giving your hand a slight squeeze. “I’m sorry if I seem a little out of it. I am just a little tired, I hope I’m not being a downer.” He said gently, your heart squeezing for him since you were on your phone earlier.

“Of course not babe.” You grabbed both of his hands, giving his knuckles a soft kiss. “Thank you for bringing me to such a beautiful place.” You said with a smile, wishing you could sit on his lap and kiss him until you were both out of breath.

“You are a beautiful and special woman. You deserve this and more. I hope you know that I love you so much and I’d do anything to make you happy.” He said softly, his eyes shimmering in the dim lighting of the room. He looked so sincere that you instantly felt guilty for not telling him about Namjoon’s call.

“Thank you. I love you too.” You say, noticing how he kept touching the pocket of his jacket. Thinking nothing of it, you took a deep breath. You needed to tell him now.

“Jaehyun, there’s something I need to tell you.” You notice how he seemed to hold his breath, not expecting those words to come out of your mouth.

“What is it?” He asked, the nerves he felt earlier coming back full-force. He absentmindedly touched the pocket of his jacket again, but this time you didn’t notice.

‘It’s now or never.’ you gave yourself a small pep talk and took a deep breath.

“Babe, I got a call from Namjoon. He told me that after all the last crucial details for the opening are done, he no longer needs me to stay in New York. He says he has some projects lined up for me in Seoul and wants me to consider going back early. He gave me until next week to give him an answer.” You said it all in one breath, anxiously looking at Jaehyun’s face for his reaction.

He stared at you with wide eyes, surprise clear on his face. He was not expecting that at all and it made his heart sink. He was already dreading the end of the year and now suddenly it was getting cut even shorter? That's not fair.

“Oh.” He said dejectedly, not wanting to show his disappointment. “Have you given him an answer?” He asked, a little afraid as to what your answer might be.

“I have not. I can’t decide. I don’t want to be away from you and I wanted to see the project through until the very end. But the projects that Namjoon has are very good opportunities. It’s so hard.” You say, your throat closing up and you could feel the tears gather in your waterline. It was not fair that you had to choose between the man you love and a career you also love.

“Well, I want you to do what’s best for you. I love you and I support whatever decision you make.” He said, a small smile on his face. You knew he was trying to be supportive, and you appreciate that, but you could not bear the thought of being away from him.

“I know, I need a bit more time before I decide. I know we never discussed what would happen once my year contract was up and now I’m afraid for what will happen.” You confess, finally letting him know how you felt about the inevitable.

“Hey, hey, don’t be afraid. We will make it work. We had not discussed it before but we will find a way, don’t worry.” He gave you a reassuring smile. You were grateful that you had him in your life.

After dinner Jaehyun drove you home and he no longer was quiet and reserved like in the beginning. He was making conversation and even encouraging you to not stress out about giving Namjoon an answer. He was being very supportive and calm, which is exactly what you needed at the moment.

“Are you going to stay the night?” You ask once Jaehyun turns the corner into your street.

“Not tonight babe, sorry. I have some things I need to do when I get to my apartment. I’ll probably come over tomorrow though.” He said. You gave him a small smile and hoped he could not see the disappointment behind it. You really wished he could stay the night, you had an overwhelming urge to have him near you right now.

“Okay.” You said softly, gathering your things.

Jaehyun opened your door and walked you up to your doorstep, always insisting on being a gentleman.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Jaehyun said, hugging you and giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, bringing your body as close as possible to Jaehyun’s, wanting to feel all of him.

He placed his hands on your hips, lightly groping your flesh. You moaned into the kiss, the need for him becoming stronger as the kiss deepened.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” You ask between kisses, hoping he would agree to spend the night.

“I can’t babe.” He groaned out, pulling away. “I’ll come by tomorrow.” He placed a chaste kiss on your nose, completely detaching himself from you.

“Okay, good night.” You whisper, turning away from him and heading into your apartment.

You tried to ignore the dull ache in your chest, feeling rejected for some reason. You knew Jaehyun didn’t mean anything by not staying the night, but for some reason the fact he didn’t stay felt like rejection. You shook your head out of it, feeling silly for even humoring that negative feeling. You started to get ready for bed, a wave of exhaustion coming over you all of a sudden.

After your shower you saw your phone blinking. You walked to it, figuring it was most likely Jaehyun. You were surprised to see three missed calls from Chanyeol.

After a few seconds of debating whether or not you should call him back, you hit the callback button.

‘It must be work related. Why else would he call?’ You say to yourself. It was a bit late for it to be a work call, but you want to give Chanyeol the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey, you called back.” Chanyeol answered after the third ring, his voice sounding a bit wobbly.

“Yes I figured it was something important. What do you need?” You were trying not to be curt with him, but you couldn’t push away the feeling of disappointment at the fact that Jaehyun didn’t stay. Everything was irritating you right now.

“I do have something important to say-” He hiccuped, making you furrow your brows. Is he drunk? “I-I want to say… that I am so happy to see you again. And I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I really missed you.” He says, another hiccup coming out at the end.

“Chanyeol, are you drunk?” You asked incredulously. Of course he would be drunk, some things don’t change.

“Nnno. I am tipsy. Not drunk.” He drawled and you huffed in annoyance, this whole situation completely bizarre.

“Clearly.” You answer sarcastically. “Chanyeol, you better have a good reason to be calling me right now. It’s late.” You deadpan, already annoyed at the turn of events.

“I do ha-have a good reason-on.” He hiccuped, making you roll your eyes. “I wanted to say that I still have feelings for you and I used the gala as an excuse to see you again since you did a great job of shutting me out of your life.” He huffed, still slurred but more coherent.

You were silent for a few seconds, in shock at his declaration of still having feelings for you.

“Chanyeol, this is highly unprofessional. You shouldn’t have called me. I’m hanging up.” You said hastily, the rapid beating of your heart making it hard to breathe.

“Wait! I’m sorry, don’t hang up. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know it must have been a shock seeing me. The truth is that I miss you, a lot. And you changed your number and I couldn't contact you. When the opportunity to work with you came up, I took it. I had to.” He explained, the loud ringing in your ears making it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

After a few seconds of processing his words, you took a deep breath to level your breathing.

“Chanyeol, you’re drunk. Go to sleep” You said, deciding to hang up on him before he said anything else.

You plugged in your phone and put it on do not disturb, hoping no one else would contact you for the rest of the night. You closed your eyes and willed the erratic beating of your heart to go away.

__________________

Two days passed since that uncomfortable phone call with Chaneyol took place. He didn’t try to contact you, so you assumed he did not remember it at all since he was clearly inebriated. It was better this way, but you were still annoyed because you remembered it clearly. It kept playing in your head over and over and it affected your temper, to say the least. The stress of the final details for the opening gala was catching up to you, as well as the fact that you had about four days left to tell Namjoon what your decision was. Were you to stay in New York longer or cut your time short and go back to Korea to work on some exciting projects. On top of that, you had not been spending as much time with Jaehyun in the past couple of days. Ever since you told him about what Namjoon told you, he had been a little distant. He didn’t stay over at your place like he had said he would, claiming he was tired and had other matters to handle at home.

All of those stressful situations were making it hard to concentrate and it made you snappy, which you hated because no one deserved to be on the receiving end.

“Hey noona…” Mark said cautiously, slowly entering your office.

“Yes, Mark?” You asked, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

“Hey so I’m not sure if you saw the email yet, but Mr. Kim said that the final draft you sent him of the final details for the opening gala was incorrect.” Mark said, wincing at the end knowing that it was going to annoy you.

“Oh.” You sighed, refreshing your email and seeing the unread message that was sent almost an hour ago.

‘Fucking great. Had I seen this before, I could have gotten a head start.’ You inwardly groan, knowing it was going to take a while to get this rectified. You were mad at yourself for not being more thorough when double checking your work.

“Thanks Mark. I’ll make sure to finish this tonight. Go home. Have a good night.” You give him a small smile, returning your focus to the annoying task before you.

You had been editing the document when you heard a small rasp on your office door, looking over and seeing Jaehyun. Your mood instantly improved as you gave him a small smile.

“Hey, what are you doing here still? It’s late.” He said, walking in and closing your door behind him.

“I need to finish editing this document before sending it out to Mr. Kim tonight.” You explained, getting up from your chair and stretching your back.

“Oh man, that’s not good.” He said as his eyes looked at you intently. “You look very tired and stressed. Are you okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried as he sat on the corner of your desk.

“Yeah, I am stressed.” You agreed, needing to put some things out in the open.

“What's stressing you out? The deadlines?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes, that. And you.” You conveniently decided to leave out the conversation you had with Chanyeol, not in the mood to deal with that.

“Me? Why?” He was surprised that you said he was part of your stress.

“Because ever since I told you about my phone call with Namjoon, I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. You never came to my place like you said you would. Are you upset with me?” You asked, feeling extremely emotional for some reason. You were trying not to let the tears roll down your cheeks, feeling very pathetic at that moment.

“I’m sorry you feel that way babe. I know I've been busy but I promise it has nothing to do with you. I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” He came up to you and hugged you, making you slack against his body with relief. He held you close and caressed your back softly. You pulled away slowly in order to capture your lips in an urgent kiss.

You let your hands trail across his shoulders, bringing him closer to you as your tongue entwined with his. His hands were on your hips, kneading them softly as he rubbed you against his middle, allowing you to feel his bulge. You moaned softly, wanting to feel him closer to you. A sudden desperation took over you, making you palm Jaehyun over his slacks. He moaned into your mouth, hastily unzipping his trousers, freeing his hard member from its confine. He hiked your skirt up and moved your panties to the side, feeling your wetness pooling at your entrance. He groaned at the feeling and aligned himself, pushing all the way into you. You moaned at the feeling of being stretched out all at once, not minding the feeling of fullness. Jaehyun grabbed your leg from behind your knee, hiking it up his hip and thrusting faster into you. You moaned at the feeling of him reaching deeper in you, the pressure in your lower belly growing gradually. You tried keeping up with his thrusts, but he was moving at a speed you could not keep up with. His face was buried in your neck, his hot breath tickling you as you tried to move your hips in a way that would rub your clit against his pelvis. He grunted as he picked up the pace, your tight walls pulsing around him.

The position you were in was starting to get very uncomfortable and you tried to adjust; it was to no avail, Jaehyun was still pistoning into you like he had a purpose.

“Jae…” You tried, voice breathless, “Please, slow down.” You pant, scratching at his shoulders in order to get his attention.

He didn’t answer you and he kept up his pace, making you wince at the burn in your thigh and hips. He grunted at the feeling of you trying to move, your tightness finally pushing him over the edge. He released into you with a low moan, his hips finally slowing down. You stood frozen as he sagged against you, hot breath feeling sticky on your neck. He pulled out of you and reached for a tissue to wipe the mess between your thighs, throwing the soiled paper in the trash bin. He silently pulled himself back together, trying to look presentable before he left your office. You silently fixed your skirt as you watched Jaehyun straighten his shirt. You were still trying to make sense of what just happened, your heart thrumming in your chest uncomfortably.

“Are you coming over to my place?” You asked, trying to sound normal despite the tightness in your chest.

“Not tonight. Maybe another time babe. Want me to take you home?” He asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

‘Want me to take you home? Since when does he ask?’ You think, perplexed at his question.

“No, It’s fine.” You reply curtly, suddenly in a bad mood.

“You sure?” He questions, not understanding your sudden mood change.

“Yes, it’s fine. Have a good night.” You give him a tight smile. He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds as you gather your purse from your office. He silently follows you into the elevator and waits for your taxi to pick you up. The silence wasn’t extremely uncomfortable but it wasn't as comfortable as it used to be.

“Good night. Text me as soon as you get home.” Jaehyun says, giving you a small peck on the lips. You bid him goodbye and told the cab driver your address, not looking over at Jaehyun as he closed the door for you.

You were glad your cab driver was not one of those people that tried to have uncomfortable conversations. You were trying very hard to keep your tears at bay, not really feeling like crying in the back of a cab. You sniffled a bit and looked out the window, viewing the city passing you by. You were not sure why there was a sudden shift in your relationship with Jaehyun, but it scared you to not know where you stood and what was going on with him.

The cab stopped in front of your apartment building and you were about to text Jaehyun when you noticed a tall figure standing by the entrance of the building.

“Chanyeol?” You asked incredulously, not sure how to react to the fact that Chanyeol was at your residence.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here alone.” He says, giving you a lazy smile.

“How do you know where I live?” You question, walking up to the steps of your building.

“I have ways of finding out.” He says mischievously.

“That’s really creepy, you know that?” You say, oddly happy to see him. You shake the feeling away as soon as it arrived, confused as to why you even felt that way.

“I guess so. Can I talk to you for a bit?” He questioned, actually looking a little sheepish.

“Yeah, I guess let’s go inside though, it’s cold out here.” You say, suppressing the shiver that ran through you at that second.

You led the way into your apartment, feeling very shy and nervous all of a sudden. You felt like you were doing something wrong. You felt guilty because it felt like you were cheating on Jaehyun. It was a stupid thought because you weren’t cheating on him and you were not doing anything wrong. And to be honest, you were still a little irritated about Jaehyun’s attitude change, so you didn’t really care if it would bother him if Chanyeol was here. You know it was childish, but you could not help it.

“Want some tea?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to put water in the kettle.

“Sure, that would be great.” He said, sitting awkwardly on your couch. He looked comically small on your couch. For being such a tall guy, that is. He looked around your apartment, impressed at your place.

“Nice place you have here.” He commented, thoroughly impressed at how you had your life together.

“Thanks.” You placed the tea in front of him and sat across from him on the other couch. “So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” You ask, sipping your tea.

“I just wanted to thank you. For everything.” He says, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Everything? Like, your promos? It’s part of my job, no need to thank me.” You shrug, not sure why he is thanking you.

“No, not that. I want to thank you for pushing me to be better.” He explains, wiping his hands on his pants.

“I don’t think I follow.” You say genuinely confused.

“You want to know the reason I've been able to become successful as Loey?” He inquires, confusing you further.

“Sure.” You shrug, not really understanding.

“You made me realize that if I was ever going to amount to anything, I had to work hard for it. If I was ever going to be good enough to be with you, I had to make something of myself. With that in mind, I worked hard until I reached my goals and surpassed them. Because I wanted to be someone who you could be proud to have by your side.” He explains, making you gulp loudly. You swear he can hear your heart beating in your chest, the air in your lungs running low.

“Chanyeol, I-” You began but were interrupted by him.

“You don’t have to feel pressured or anything. I know that you are in a relationship right now. But I just want you to know how I feel.” He says, giving you a warm smile, something that you never received from him before and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do somersaults.

“I see. Well, I am glad that I was able to help you, even though I was never aware that my nagging was actually making sense to you.” You both chuckle at that. That whole time you thought you were talking to deaf ears.

“But like you said, I am in a relationship right now. So.” You said with finality, hoping that the little bit of uncertainty you felt right now did not show. Your relationship has been great, so that’s the story you’re sticking to.

“I get it. But I just want you to know that if he somehow messes up, I’m here. I’m waiting for you.” He said that last part with a whisper.

You looked away, not being able to handle his eye contact anymore. He cleared his throat, making you look at him again.

“Well, it’s getting late so I better go.” He stands up from your couch and heads towards your door.

“Okay, be careful.” You say, holding the door open for him.

He looks at you for a few seconds and goes in for an awkward side hug, surprising you due to the sudden action. Before you could react, he was already out your door and heading to the elevators. You closed the door and placed a hand on your chest, willing your heart to stop beating erratically.

‘What just happened?’ You think to yourself, shaking the feeling away and heading to your bathroom to get ready for bed.

The air around you felt hot and stuffy, your skin slick with sweat and the sheets sticking uncomfortably to your back.

Large hands held your waist in a death grip, slim hips keeping your legs apart as he thrusts into you. The fullness of him deep inside you makes you moan loudly, fingers scratching a trail down his back.

His hot breath tickles your neck and you arch your back into him when his rough fingers make contact with your clit.

‘Just like that baby.’ He encourages into your ear, hips grinding into yours, moaning at the feeling of your tightness enveloping him.

Your legs started to shake, a clear sign that your release was soon approaching.

‘Yes baby, cum for me. Open your eyes, I want to see your face when you cum.’ he grunts, hips picking up pace.

You open your eyes and are met with piercing brown orbs; the intense eye contact and the way he keeps hitting that spot inside you are all it takes for you to reach your end.

‘Chanyeol…’ You moan as white hot pleasure takes over your body.

‘That’s it baby. You take me so well.’ He grunts as he fills you with his cum, hips slowing down.

“You’re so good to me baby.” He whispers in your ear, pulling his dick out of you.

You wake up with a jump, heart hammering wildly and skin drenched in sweat. You look at the clock and see that it is 3 am. You silently curse as you sit up to drink some water, feeling completely parched. You see your phone blinking on your night stand and pick it up to see what the notifications were.

You see that you had two missed calls and five messages from Jaehyun.

Babe: hey, did you make it home okay?

Babe: Babe why aren’t you answering me? Are you okay?

Babe: You’re making me worried, please answer me

Babe: Mark has you on snapchat and says he can see your location and it says you’re home. How come I didn’t know you were on snap?

Babe: You must be sleeping. Please message me in the morning so I know you’re okay. I love you

You sighed deeply and put your phone down, feeling bad that you forgot to message Jaehyun yesterday. The memory of your dream coming back full force, making you gasp.

‘I can’t believe I had a wet dream about Chanyeol. What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Once you have completely cooled off, you get back in bed and close your eyes. You had work in the morning and you did not want to dwell on why you dreamt what you did. It meant nothing. You were sure of it.

It had to be nothing.

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[jonathanrook]

rachel makes too many playlists: the in depth guide

last updated march 19, 2020

table of contents

personal

depression, but make it gay

fellas is it straight to fuck your homie...

playlist for when someone has accused you of being a bad person...

playlist to listen to when you're still thinking about vegetable man...

ships

feeling of falling - an omnispan playlist

house of memories - a reddie playlist

i go crazy - a byeler playlist

a totally complimentary mileven playlist

wanna be missed - a catradora playlist

worth it - an ineffable husbands playlist

characters // media

eddie vibes

hargreeves family (dys)function

klaus moods

richie vibes

shark puppy but it’s fall out boy

shark puppy - covers for lovers

you could make a playlist out of this!

misc.

love songs for you and your cryptid gf

that one girl on tumblr wanted queer song recs

this....but lesbians

links and descriptions under the cut

personal

depression, but make it gay exactly what it says on the tin. used to be titled “i’m depressed and gay and in unrequited love” but this is a bit snappier, though less descriptive. lots of songs about being sad and being a dyke and being a sad dyke. status ongoing format alphabetized current length 47 songs (3:00) highlights include:  "future friends” (superfruit),  "i wanna be your girlfriend” (girl in red), "sick of losing soulmates” (dodie)

fellas is it straight to fuck your homie just because he got a boner and ground it against your ass for when your comphet gremlin is triggering a sexuality crisis. but for real though. is it straight to fuck your homie? only if the balls touch. status ongoing format ordered current length 20 songs (1:07) highlights include:  "cannibal” (tally hall),  "dead girl walking” (heathers soundtrack), "sleeping with a friend” (neon trees)

playlist for when someone has accused you of being a bad person so you might as well roll with it does someone have really pointless beef with you? are you a scorpio moon aries rising who desperately needs to feel like a bad bitch 24/7? here you go my dude. feel those oats. status ongoing format alphabetized current length 16 songs (0:56) highlights include "backstabber” (kesha),  "i did something bad” (taylor swift), "what the hell” (avril lavigne)

playlist to listen to when you're still thinking about vegetable man for some god forsaken reason songs to listen to when that sexy comphet gremlin starts screaming again. alternate titles include, “how to get over that weird comphet crush you pursued for way too long.” if you’re definitely a homo but you’re still trying to figure out if you want to fuck someone you literally could not be less attracted to, here you go. this is the playlist for you. status ongoing format alphabetized current length 33 songs (1:55) highlights include "all men are pigs” (studio killers),  "how to be a heartbreaker” (marina), "snap out of it” (arctic monkeys)

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ships

feeling of falling - an omnispan playlist (tumblr link) i normally alphabetize my playlists, but i tried to do a little story with this one, so it’s not. media stretch armstrong and the flex fighters title song “feeling of falling” by cheat codes ft. kim petras status complete format ordered  length 9 songs (0:33)

house of memories - a reddie playlist this is a bit of a mixed bag because i still can’t decide if i want this to be a clone of depression, but make it gay or a cute little playlist about childhood love. so, it’s a bit of everything. media the it films (muschietti adaption) title song “house of memories” by panic! at the disco   status ongoing format alphabetized current length 45 songs (2:48) highlights include "common sense" (fallen pine), "hold me down" (trapdoor social), "shut up" (greyson chance)

i go crazy - a byeler playlist this one is sad. i ship byeler as being wholly unrequited, and this is just a sad playlist about falling in love with your best friend. nothing to read into here move along folks. media stranger things title song “i go crazy” by orla gartland   status ongoing format alphabetized current length 16 songs (1:01) highlights include "boyfriend" (tegan and sara), "jason" (bonnie parker), "the story" (conan gray)

a totally complimentary mileven playlist the opposite of what it says on the tin. a bunch of songs about how great having a girlfriend sounds in theory but not in practice. media stranger things status ongoing format alphabetized current length 16 songs (0:54) highlights include "all we know" (the chainsmokers), "the sound" (the 1975), "white bread boyfriend" (lemon demon)

wanna be missed - a catradora playlist (tumblr link) media she-ra and the princesses of power title song “wanna be missed” by hayley kiyoko status complete format alphabetized length 10 songs (0:35)

worth it - an ineffable husbands playlist media good omens (the miniseries) title song “worth it” by superfruit   status ongoing format alphabetized current length 12 songs (0:43) highlights include “centerfold” (the j geils band), "from eden" (hozier), "heaven" (troye sivan)

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characters // media

eddie vibes originally created because these songs didn’t fit in the reddie playlist but were still giving me #energy. the jury’s out on whether or not this makes any fucking sense. media the it films (muschietti adaption) status ongoing format alphabetized current length 7 songs (0:25) highlights include “kindergarten” (chloe moriondo), "pantherland" (ghost soul trio)

hargreeves family (dys)function media the umbrella academy status ongoing format alphabetized current length 6 songs (0:28) highlights include “america’s suitehearts” (fall out boy), "when he died" (lemon demon)

klaus moods media the umbrella academy status ongoing format alphabetized current length 9 songs (0:32) highlights include “flagpole sitta” (harvey danger), "habits (stay high)" (tove lo), “plastic tramp“ (arctic monkeys)

richie vibes so what if this is just more songs i project onto that didn’t fit into dbmig or hom-arp? eat my whole ass. media the it films (muschietti adaption) status ongoing format alphabetized current length 26 songs (1:29) highlights include “don’t worry, you will” (lovelytheband), "hey! we okay" (never shout never), “wired differently“ (the wombats)

shark puppy but it’s fall out boy basically a glorified it playlist. a bunch of fall out boy songs that make me think of the losers. it’s not that deep. media the it films (muschietti adaption) status ongoing format alphabetized current length 12 songs (0:45)

shark puppy - covers for lovers (tumblr link) anyway, stan shark puppy. another glorified it playlist. i’m actually super fucking proud of this. like, realistically, way more proud than i should be of arranging songs. media the it films (muschietti adaption) status complete format ordered length 11 songs (0:39)

you could make a playlist out of this! (tumblr link) a bunch of songs that, whenever i hear them, make me think of some stray show/character/ship that i don’t have enough passion for to make a whole playlist for. alternatively, they’re songs that just haven’t found their way into a half publishable playlist yet. media misc. format ordered status ongoing current length 22 songs (1:20)

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miscellaneous

love songs for you and your cryptid gf i was working on this for valentines day and just forgot to post about it. status ongoing current length 28 songs (1:35) format alphabetized highlights include “bite” (troye sivan), "no eyed girl" (lemon demon), “welcome to my planet” (pomplamoose)

that one girl on tumblr wanted queer song recs (tumblr link) status ongoing format ordered current length 37 songs (2:10)

this....but lesbians songs that would be better if they were sung by lesbians. status ongoing current length 12 songs (0:42) format alphabetized highlights include “cabo” (ricky montgomery), "gorgeous" (taylor swift), “only the good die young” (billy joel)

[thecorteztwins]

🔥 villains. 🔥 the hellfire club 🔥the difference between naive and unintelligent characters

Welp, this all got STUPIDLY LONG and I’m really sorry. Under a cut because HUUUUUGE.

🔥 villains.There’s just been a robbery! All the jewels in the museum’s vault have been stolen! The culprits are….Sabretooth and Magneto!Yeah, that doesn’t sound right, does it? Thievery isn’t really something either of them do, they’re not bank robber or cat burglar types at all. And Magneto’s not a fan of Sabes to my memory, it’s unlikely he’d work with him unless it was essential to his ACTUAL goals…which this isn’t. But hey, they’re both bad guys, so they must do ALL the bad things! No matter what it is, it’s in-character if it’s evil or unlawful, right?This is the logic that I see running both often in fandom, and also sometimes with canon writers. There’s a mentality that if someone is villainous or bad in ONE way, then they must be villainous or bad in ALL ways. I think there’s always been this misunderstanding, as people do tend to think in black and white a lot, but I think it’s also increased with the rise of purity culture in Tumblr, where people/characters/works are All Good or All Bad, and if the bad guys aren’t depicted as 1000% heinously evil then it’s APOLOGISM. An example in RP would be that more than once I’d had people expect Fabian to be a racist. I can see why, given that he expresses sexism, classism, a bit of ableism, and disgust with physical mutations. But not only does he never express racism, he never expresses racism DESPITE AMPLE OPPORTUNITY. Think about it—his main antagonists are Magneto (Jewish) and Quicksilver (Jewish and Romani), he once personally fights Bishop (Black and Indigenous Australian) one on one, he’s on one team with Shinobi (half white, half Japanese), and his allies/underlings in the second-gen Acolytes included people who are African American, Moroccan (and Muslim-coded), and Inuit. And he never, ever, EVER even THOUGHT anything related to race (or religions that are usually implicitly tied to race) about ANY of them. Given how blatant his other prejudices are, I think he would very much let the reader KNOW if he were racist, anti-Semitic, etc. An example in canon…look, I’m sorry to bring up this dead horse again, but it is the best example that I presently have—Sebastian Shaw making the “women’s work” comment. As with Fabian, I get why it makes sense on the surface. He’s a powerful man, the proverbial rich old white guy, and he’s part of an organization where women walk around in lingerie as a general rule. It seems like it makes sense, it does, I grant that. But then if you actually look at his history…for 40 years of canon, he’s been allies and enemies with many powerful women, and never made a remark about their gender, never relegated lesser or menial tasks to them, never treated any of them differently as partners or foes, he actually never even flirts with any of them, be they opponents or partners in crime  (except that ONE issue when Emma is in Storm’s body and he kisses her…yeah that was a weird issue, why does a telepath need a gun to switch bodies?) Which is pretty unusual for a male Claremont villain. And he actually reacts with “I…see.” the one time a comrade makes a genuinely sexist remark. He doesn’t agree with him, he’s more like “wow ok I can’t believe he said that but I guess I’ll let it go since I want to recruit him” So, it’s actually VERY odd for him to suddenly say something like that, once you know the character. Especially since, like Fabian, he had TONS of opportunity in the past and he’s also not a character that most writers want to seem sympathetic or likeable. So it’s unlikely the writers were just trying to make him look good by playing down some secret sexist tendencies all this time or something. It’s more likely he just doesn’t have them BUT IS STILL A HORRIBLE PERSON! He just doesn’t need to be horrible in every way! Most people, even the MOST terrible, aren’t horrible in EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.That’s also why I try to avoid having Fabian being too homophobic (beyond “I can convert lesbians”) or transphobic, despite the fact that I *could* justify it (since those things are very intertwined with sexism)—because he’s awful enough. Giving him additional bigotries just seems stupidly redundant and cheap. Especially since I think people actually hate a bigoted character more than they hate a murderer; like I feel like if Duggan ever graduates to Shaw making a racist or homophobic remark, I might have to close his blog, but it’s fine to have blogs for fictional serial killers. By the same token, a villain having good traits doesn’t somehow eliminate their bad ones, especially if the good and bad traits are unrelated to each other. A mass murderer supervillain is not “actually a good guy deep down” because he loves his family; it’s actually VERY common for even genocidal dictators to care for their own. Hell, not to go all Godwin, but Hitler was an animal-lover and had a beloved dog. You can certainly point to good traits to show that a villain isn’t ALL bad (which as I just said, I support) but not being “all bad” isn’t the same as “actually a good person and just misunderstood!” Like, Shaw being an egalitarian in a lot of regards or was good to Madelyne Pryor or loved his father, doesn’t change he’s a heartless, morally bankrupt monster who abused his son and sold out an entire oppressed species (his own, no less) for his own financial gain. Mystique is an incredibly complex character, far more so than Shaw, but her love for Destiny and Rogue and many of her other good points don’t change that she hunted down other mutants for the government, abused her human son for not being a mutant, has committed rape by deception numerous times (though I think that’s due to the writers not realizing that’s a thing), constantly tries to manipulate her daughter’s life and choices, and I’m pretty sure I recall an issue where she framed a guy for domestic abuse just for funsies?Basically, villains are people. They have individual different traits and beliefs and motives, and those things will drive them towards individual different types of villainy. One villain probably won’t do the same kind of villainy that another does. Likewise, someone being a shitty person in one way, or many ways, doesn’t mean they will be in ALL ways. Pointing this out isn’t the same thing as denying their flaws or defending them, but some people do do this and that’s wrong too. Nuance needs to be allowed for. Pointing out Shaw isn’t awful in every way doesn’t mean I think he’s a misunderstood woobie whose crimes should all be forgiven. Pointing out Mystique has done awful shit doesn’t mean I think she’s pure evil and all her complex points should be ignored. It just means I don’t think characters should be strawmanned by fans OR writers as paragons or demons, especially when it contradicts what canon has actually established (with the caveat that canon is dumb sometimes too, and also some characters canonically ARE one extreme or the other, but I’m talking about ones who AREN’T)🔥 the hellfire clubI’ll give two on this! One is “unpopular” just in the sense it’s not something I’ve ever heard anyone express, but I’ve never heard an opinion in opposition to it either. The other is “unpopular” in that it does directly contradict a popularly held opinion.The first is that I think it’s stupid that Grant Morrisson made The Hellfire Club into a strip club, and it’s stupid that writers since depicted it this way. The Hellfire Club is shown in the 80s and 90s as being, first and foremost, an elite social club for the wealthiest and most powerful people in society. It’s basically a big posh country club, and most of its members are just regular people. Super duper rich people, but still normal people, lots of old money and new money and big business owners and politicians and probably royalty/nobility. Most of what they’re doing is big fancy, stuffy galas and balls, that kind of thing. But under the surface, it’s hinted that there is indeed a much more sexual underside to it. The female staff wear very fetishy maid costumes, the female Inner Circles literally have dominatrix lingerie as their getups, and while we actually never see what goes on beyond the closed doors in the 80s, nor was anything directly stated, the hints are definitely there that it’s as libertine in the private rooms as they are prim and proper in the ballrooms. We don’t know WHAT exactly is happening, only that it’s dark and decadent and surely sexual in some kind of “abnormal” (read: kink shaming) way.And then it turns out it’s just a strip club where the dancers wear corsets? Really? REALLY? I’m sorry, you expect me to belief that these oh-so-forbidden and secretive sexual delights that are available only to the richest and most powerful people in the world are…a TITTY BAR WITH NO ACTUAL TITTIES EVEN OUT???? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! It’s so fucking juvenile! It feels like something a 13 year old made up while trying to come up with the mos edgy, shocking, “sexy” thing he could. It just…doesn’t work. It doesn’t work firstly because it completely took away the whole “upper class veneer” that is as much an essential part of the HFC as the sex. In fact, I think more so. Writers, artists, and fans all like to focus on ZOMG THE SEXY COSTUMES but thematically speaking, I think the fact it’s an elite organization exclusive to the super-wealthy is much more important; that should be what they’re really about as villains, but writers end up focusing way too much on the shock value of the kink, and that’s how you wind up with stuff like this. The second reason it doesn’t work is that…it isn’t even shocking. When what they were doing was kept hidden, the reader could imagine no limit of decadence and depravity. When it’s revealed, and revealed as something that’s frankly super and common and TAME (seriously, strip clubs aren’t edgy these days) that you can get anywhere else, you’re left wondering why exactly anyone gives a shit about being in the HFC if this is all it really is? We should NEVER get to see what the HFC patrons truly do in private, and we should definitely never get shown that it’s just watching a woman pole dance with Victorian underwear on. That doesn’t make the HFC look sexual, it makes them look like PRUDES!Honestly, I do actually love the sexy sinful decadent aspect, but it’s overtaken the “extremely rich and powerful people trying to rule the world from behind the scenes through political and economic manipulation” aspect (which is far more interesting and villainous) that I kind of wish sometimes they had been created without the kink or colonial cosplay aspects, and instead had just worn some 80s powersuits.Now, here’s the “unpopular as in contradicts the popular” opinion. I see the Hellfire Club described a lot, in canon and fandom, as an organization of powerful MEN, as a bunch of MEN who just want to control others, as a BOY’S club…but aside from Sebastian Shaw, all the most prominent and effective members of the Club have been women? I mean, think about it. The names most synonymous with “Hellfire Club” in fandom are Emma Frost, Selene, Jean Grey as Dark Phoenix, and Sebastian Shaw. Shaw’s the ONLY dude that really gets any focus from writers OR fans; the women are almost always utilized more by writers and remembered more by fans. Heck, in the London Branch of the Hellfire Club, NONE of the male members of the Inner Circle even got NAMES, while ALL the women did. Now, of course, individual women in an organization being successful in said organization and beloved by fans/writers, doesn’t mean the organization itself can’t also be sexist. And like most people, the disparity between the costumes of both the Inner Circle and the mere staff does lead me to believe that it was probably founded and run only by men originally, and I bet women probably weren’t even allowed in for a long time (especially given that it was established in the 1700s) But that’s my HEADCANON. That’s what I EXTRAPOLATE. But what’s actually on the page IN THE PRESENT is women that are on equal footing with men, or superior to them. They’re not just simply ALLOWED in the Inner Circle, they’ve been dominating it from the first appearance with Emma ruling it alongside Shaw over Leland and Pierce, and then Selene coming in to challenge Shaw and Emma (with Shaw being terrified of her) in a way that none of the other members (all male—Leland, Pierce, Von Roehm) could. Gender is never brought up by anyone, even the most despicable male HFC members like Donald Pierce. So while I believe it was founded by sexist men, the Inner Circle seems pretty egalitarian now.But of course, there’s the costumes. I absolutely think it’s a sexist setup that the men get to wear (super ugly) period cosplay while the women are in fetish lingerie. It seems to be the standard uniform, and the fact that they haven’t CHANGED it shows that there’s definitely still some sexism.Except…it doesn’t seem to be a rule in-universe that the women HAVE to wear them? We actually see female members of the HFC, such as Selene, wearing clothing other than that while hanging out there; there’s actually a scene wear Selene is wearing pants and a sleeveless turtleneck with gloves. Maddy also wears a lot of black leather when she’s a member, but it doesn’t look like the Hellfire Club ladies getup, it looks like all the other stuff she was wearing in the 90s. And when Selene, Emma, etc., AREN’T in the Hellfire Club…they often still dress exactly like that, or in a similiar manner. I think it’s pretty clear that no one is MAKING them wear the uniforms, they just LIKE them, they’re probably “encouraged but optional” or something like that. And Emma even has that WHOLE DAMN SPEECH about how this is her armor, how it empowers her, etc. That said, while I don’t think any other CHARACTERS are making these women dress like that, I do think the writers/artists are. If a real woman made the speech that Emma did, I’d be like “ok sure, you go girl, do what feels empowering for you”. But Emma ISN’T a real woman. Every word in her mouth in that panel is being put there by Chris Claremont, a horny man with a dominatrix fetish who is trying to justify it by selling it as feminist. That is what it is. But just because that’s the case on a meta level…on an in-universe level, no one makes these women dress like this, and that’s very evident, and while the way they’re treated by writers/artists is definitely affected by them being women, the way other characters, including the Hellfire Club men, treats them, isn’t. At least not til shitty recent stuff. (I’ve seen some people think SHAW made the women dress like that….yeah, sure, like he could make SELENE do anything? He’s completely afraid of her but somehow can make her wear something she doesn’t want? Emma and Selene dress like that no matter where they are and whether they’re presently HFC members or not, but somehow he’s making them do that? HOW DOES ANYONE GIVE THIS GUY THAT MUCH CREDIT?)Basically, I think people are TRYING to be feminist, but it often ends up feeling like SEXISM to me? Because it’s totally ignoring and erasing the power and agency that these women exert in this organization, and often even claiming that it’s actually the men who have all the control, when aside from Shaw it’s usually the ladies running the show. It just seems disrespectful to me. It’s like, as much as people are claiming to hate a lack of agency for female characters, they seem more comfortable with that idea than a situation where women actually HAD it. Maybe it’s because they’re villains, maybe it’s because the costumes really are distracting and unequal no matter how the writers try to justify it (again, I wish they’d just gone with business suits), but there seems to be an overall fandom determination to insist on women like Emma Frost and Selene as victims or simply accomplices to a greater (male) villain, rather than embracing them as the Top Tier Bad Bitches they were/are, and, again, that seems more sexist to me than not. But I worry people will think I’m sexist if I say that. But you know me, you know I LOVE agency for female characters, and how I rail against it when see them ACTUALLY lacking it in comics, so you know it’s not that. I think it’s just a part of the rise in purity culture that even “progressive” people would rather see a woman forced or coerced to be a victim than choose of her own volition to be a villain and be GOOD at it :/🔥the difference between naive and unintelligent charactersWell, firstly, obviously there IS a difference. Naivete is just a lack of experience or learned knowledge, neither of which has anything to do with intelligence. A naive character may make mistakes in a new situation based on their lack of knowledge about it, and that may LOOK stupid to those who have this knowledge, but it’s not the same thing. I think we can agree that, say, Tony Stark isn’t stupid, but if he had to navigate in the wilderness, he might do things that experienced hikers and campers and outdoors people know are SUPER BAD IDEAS. Because this isn’t something he knows about or has experience with.So, I think considering characters who are new to this world (as is common in comics—lots of people from other dimensions, planets, and times) as stupid because they don’t know a lot of things we take as a given, is erroneous. I think it’s pretty common for fandom to look at, say, Longshot or Thor, and deem them as basically being idiots because they’re not familiar with their new environments…when in fact, we’d all be acting the same if we wound up in Asgard or Mojoworld. Not that there’s not other reasons they can’t be idiots, but not knowing what a toaster is isn’t one of them.The big difference is that naivete is a temporary state, and I think both writers and fans forget that. The character’s naivete will gradually decrease as they learn more and more. So if you’re writing an Avengers fic where Thor has been on Earth for five years so far, he probably knows what a toaster is, can order normally at a restaurant, isn’t confused by normal sights like cars or traffic lights or computers, etc., but could still be confused if he went to a Midgardian country with very different cultural norms than the ones he’s learned in the United States. Likewise, I can keep Malcolm perpetually baffled by new worlds in RP since time is kinda wobbly here and can be static or move forward or back as we like, but if I were writing him in a linear story, he would have to learn along the way about the technology and norms of other worlds as he experiences them; if he didn’t learn, THEN he would be unintelligent, not just naive. If he touches a hot stove once because he didn’t know what it was, and it burns him, that’s naive. If he touches it twice to test if it does the same thing again, that’s curious and maybe even smart, despite looking stupid to others. If he keeps doing it every day by accident, then THAT’S an idiot. Also, even a naive character may still be able to deduce that certain things are bad ideas, dangerous, etc. For instance, let’s say my character is a normal everyday girl sucked into a fantasy realm. She doesn’t understand the language, and the people around her don’t look like anything humanoid, but when all of them go quiet and still when a larger, more decorated one enters, and they all give it a lot of space, she can probably deduce that this is someone of great importance, and she probably should do what the others are doing and not risk pissing it off. She may know nothing about these beings or their customs, but she still can use her powers of observation and common sense. It may end up being a TOTALLY wrong move—for instance, maybe newcomers are meant to come introduce themselves to the leader by touching them–but it was a good, sensible guess. Whereas if she’d just walked up to the being and given it a good swift kick, that’d be unintelligent to an almost unbelievable point, and no amount of “she’s just naive!” could excuse it.Oh yeah, and optimism doesn’t automatically equate to naivete either. To be honest, I think that extreme cynicism is just as naive in its own way as thinking everything is sunshine and daisies, and I’d like to see this explored more in fiction rather than the perpetual “happy positive people are dumb and naive and just don’t know better, whereas the grumpy cynics are always smarter and more experienced” that media is so fond of.TL;DR Not only is naivete not unintelligence, it also should be a temporary state. It’s definitely cute to watch a naive character stumble around their new experiences, but in gaining those experiences, they’re going to become less naive, and make few mistakes. Naive characters should also still be capable of acting in ways that are sensible, even if they end up being wrong for the new situation. And being positive doesn’t automatically equate naivete either, nor does negativity equate to the reverse (and can be naive in itself)

[vecna]

For fandom meme-swtor?

Send me a fandom!

This one isn’t as spicy as the Dragon Age one, but I still got Wordy.

Also there’s lots of KOTFE/KOTET/etc spoilers in here, so don’t read if you don’t want to see em. (Looking at you, Chignon.)

The character(s) I first fell in love with:

My own OCs haha.

But more seriously: It was actually Darth Malgus! I was always going to play a Star Wars MMO, let’s be real. But when they started posting promo videos and cinematics for the game, my Sith-loving ass immediately gravitated to that guy haha. And then, it turned out he had the same VA as The Architect from Dragon Age, and that was it for me.

If we’re talking about companions, then it was probably Malavai Quinn. Sith Warrior was the first class I got to 50, and Quinn was the first companion that I really got overly attached to haha.

The character(s) I never expected to love as much as I do now:

Most (not all, but most) of the “new” companions that came in with KOTFE and beyond. I was initially really sour when I realized we were losing all our class storyline companions, and they were being replaced with a new crew of Lana, Theron, Koth, my mother-in-law Senya, etc. Especially when they – at the time – said we’d eventually get our class companions back, but it would be a while. So I started KOTFE sure that I would hate the new crew because I would rather have the old one…. and ended up liking them quite a lot! Mostly, lol.

The character(s) everyone else loves that I don’t:

Doc is the main one, jesus christ. If you didn’t read my last post, I just really really really do not mesh well with overly sexual and Adult Humor-y characters who scold you with a “You’re no fun.” if your OC isn’t into it. Doc is the worst example of it that I’ve ever encountered. I always play a male JK, and the fact nearly all of his convos amount to, “Boy, you and me are going to be up to our eyeballs in vagina when this war ends, amirite?” “You don’t want that? Come on, the Jedi Code doesn’t say you can’t FUCK, live a little.” “You’re no fun. Well, more for me.�� drives me NUTS. This combined with how he interacts with Kira just does me in. Shoves him out an airlock.

Dark Side Jaesa is another big one, albeit mainly for OOC reasons. I just hate the fact that she even exists, really. I get the appeal of a story where a Sith corrupts a Jedi to the Dark Side, but the way she does a total 180 into gross hedonism while Serving You always just makes me cringe. Plus there’s the fact that straight dudebro gamers are really nasty with her, and she’s the main companion I always see men put into the slave bikini outfit, and just yikes.

Also just a lot of one-off NPCs that everyone goes crazy for and ships their OCs with, but I  constantly forget who they even are lol. Attros Finn comes to mind. I don’t hate them! Just don’t get the appeal I guess.

The character(s) I love that everyone else hates:

Lord Scourge, although I’m not sure he’s really hated as much anymore. I just remember at launch, when all of the overly invested Revan stans absolutely HATED him because of what he did in the Revan novel, and then flooded the tags with vitriol over being “stuck” with him as a Knight, and having to hear about Revan in his companion convos. It was really, really tiresome! Maybe it’s because I never really cared that deeply about Revan as my personal character, but I could not understand the backlash.

Anyway, Lord Scourge is my favorite companion in the game by a long shot. I love the conversations you can have with him about the Jedi vs Sith, and I love the mutually respectful tone those conversations take. (Where other Bioware companions who disagree with you have a tendency to just go, “You’re wrong.” and shut you down.) The fact that he’s so tied in with the plot just makes me love him more, really.

The character(s) I used to love but don’t any longer:

Cytharat, Koth and Theron mostly. Although this takes a bit of explaining, and is a bit Discourse-y – because I really appreciate them as characters, but their role and Bioware’s decisions with them is what made me no longer love them.Here’s the thing: Bioware has a bad habit of introducing male characters that are bisexual, and then having them betray you, leading to situations where they either get murdered or vanish from the narrative entirely. Meanwhile, bisexual women like Lana are untouched and around forever.

I was overjoyed when I first saw Cytharat. Y'all know I’m a ho for purebloods, and the fact that he was Malgus’ apprentice was fascinating to me – and then he turned out to be a bi romance. I got very hyped for him, only to find out he dies like 5 minutes later – or if you save him, he’s never seen again. Huge letdown.

Koth was the first character I fell in love with of the new KOTFE crew – I even initiated a romance with him! – but it quickly became obvious there’s no way to play the expansion without him turning on you judgementally at some point or another. And then, hey big surprise, you can kill him or else he’s never seen again.

Theron I’ve loved since we first got to know him in the Forged Alliances content, but that whole storyline where he seemingly betrays you out of nowhere, only to later reveal he didn’t actually, idk. And then, once again, you either kill him or he disappears from the story. It felt like a weirdly shoehorned in plot for shock value, and robbed us of a second bi MOC character.

You see the trend here? I want to love these characters, but Bioware continually electing to do this shit with bi dudes is tiresome and makes me unwilling to invest any interest in the characters anymore.

The character(s) I would totally smooch:

None.

The character(s) I’d want to be like:

None really come to mind? I just want to be a Jedi, come on.

The character(s) I’d slap:

Hunter all day every day.

The pairing(s) that I love:

Haha, this question is hard, because most of the SWTOR ships I’m invested in are between my OCs and my friends’ OCs.

However.

SCOURGE / KNIGHT IS THE BIG ONE, THE ULTIMATE, THE ALL-TIME FAVORITE. It’s really hard to describe just how much I love this ship, and just how much time and energy I’ve invested into it over the past… 8 years wow……….. To the point of being almost territorial. And it’s also near impossible for me to talk about why I love it, because the version I ship is so personalized with my specific Jedi Knight, especially since it had to live exclusively in headcanon land for so long. Scourge is, more or less, my Knight’s support pillar and the thing that grounds him and keeps him humble, in a world where my Knight is surrounded by people who expect him to be a pure flawless messiah. But, I mean. How can you have a man look at your character and say, “I’ve waited 300 years to see your face.” and not immediately ship it. And then I finally got vindicated after all these years when it was made canon!

I really love Arcann / Knight for a lot of the same reasons as the above, but I just really adore his one (1) romance convo haha. Granted, yes he did a lot of fucked up things, but I was so grateful when he had like… a Zuko-esque redemption. Where he comes to your character and firmly believes he doesn’t deserve forgiveness, and especially doesn’t deserve affection, and is instead met with acceptance and a chance to grow and heal. That’s the good shit.

Others:

Lana / Warrior and Lana / Inquisitor are my particular jam. I endlessly enjoy the mutual respect between Lana and those particular PCs.

Malavai Quinn / Sith Warrior is a longtime fave, and although I DO love him with a female Warrior, I really do with he’d been an option for dudes as well. And I feel the same in reverse about Vette / Warrior – I do like her with a male Warrior, and it’s so sweet and wholesome and endearing, but man I wish she’d been an option for female Warriors.

I ship Risha with every woman – especially Vette and Sumalee – and will be salty until my grave that Risha / f!Smuggler isn’t possible, because I love Risha with the Smuggler but she gives me powerful WLW vibes.

Agent / Watcher Two is also a lowkey favorite, but I ALSO wish it could be done with a female Agent instead. Same with Agent / Raina Temple.

Agent / Vector is very sweet, but again, I will be salty until my grave that it couldn’t be done with a male Agent.

Can you guys sense a running theme here?

Finally: NGL I love Valkorion / Senya, even though that ended in pure disaster.

And people around here used to ship Keeper / Lokin, and tbh, I still kinda love it lol.

The pairing(s) that I despise:

In general terms, I fucking hate every single romance that involves the male PC romancing his padawan or underling, especially since most of them seem like very young girls. I don’t know why this is so pervasive in the game, but yikes Bioware. Consular/Nadia is the worst offender, but they’re all just cringe central for me.

But the big one is Agent / Hunter. This would have gotten me run off Tumblr back in the day, but god I hate this pairing. I mentioned in the last post that I just will never enjoy ships where the two characters actively want to murder each other, but. This just gets magnified for me with Agent/Hunter, where all the mind control and blatant abuse comes into play – and people have a tendency to write noncon rape fic of the two and present it as ~sexy rivalmance~, which is awful. Add to this the “no homo” reveal where Hunter turns out to be a woman, after getting everyone hyped about a dude flirting with their male character the whole game, and it’s just a huge No Thanks from me all around.

And for largely personal reasons I just don’t like seeing female Knights with Scourge. Listen, for YEARS  I was treated like a pariah for shipping Scourge with my male Knight, while being unable to find Scourge content that didn’t have a female Knight plastered all over him. Even though he wasn’t even a romance option one way or another, the way the fandom treated m!Knight/Scourge with disdain while ardently shipping f!Knight/Scourge was offputting as shit. And then, after years, he was made a romance option for women AND men, and all these awful people acted like they were robbed, the way people reacted when Kaidan and Jaal were made bi in Mass Effect. I’m so tired. I never want to see Scourge with a female Knight again.

[fae-fucker]

Review: The Songbird’s Refrain

by Jillian Maria

When a mysterious show arrives in town, seventeen-year-old Elizabeth Brighton is both intrigued and unsettled. But none of the acts capture her attention quite like the blue-eyed woman. Locked in a birdcage and covered in feathers, the anguish in her voice sounds just a little too real to be an act—because it isn’t. The show’s owner, a sadistic witch known only as the Mistress, is holding her captive. And she’s chosen Elizabeth as her next victim. After watching the blue-eyed woman die, Elizabeth is placed under the same curse. She clings to what little hope she can find in the words of a fortune teller and in her own strange dreams. The more she learns, the more she suspects that the Mistress isn’t as invulnerable as she appears. But time is against her, and every feather that sprouts brings her closer to meeting the blue-eyed woman’s fate. Can Elizabeth unlock the secret to flying free, or will the Mistress’s curse kill her and cage its next victim?

Full disclosure without the fancy wording: Jillian straight up gave me a free copy of this book, and I’ve followed the development of this novel since pretty early on because it sounded like it was My Jam. Spoilers: it was, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be honest with my opinions! With that said: Jillian, don’t read this. And also, holy shit congrats on writing a book, we stan!! <3 But seriously, don’t.

This review contains vague character spoilers to serve as examples. No names are mentioned.

The Writing

Having read a couple of early versions of the first chapters of this book, I can’t express enough how amazing it is to read it in its final form, how far it has come from the days when an early draft was posted on a tumblr page which the author coded herself. That’s not to say the early versions of it were bad, but I don’t want to undermine and deny how far it has come and how polished it is.

As you all know, I’m not a huge fan of overly flowery prose because it often takes me out of the experience, and luckily, I can’t remember a single time I thought something was overwritten or took me out of the story. 

The writing is evocative without being flashy and Elizabeth has a clear, wonderful voice that feels fresh and easy and intimate at once. The dialogue feels natural and I’m honestly impressed with how characters rarely swear despite being in terrible situations, and how it never felt like a copout or like the author was censoring herself for the YA age range. 

Probably a weird thing to point out, but my characters swear constantly and I have no idea how to stop them from doing that without making it very silly, so props to the author for succeeding where I would definitely fail. 

The Characters

Oh my what a smörgåsbord of fun people! I won’t dwell too much on this section because the mystery is very much tied deeply into the characters themselves, and I don’t want to spoil things before the book is even out.

Elizabeth is a bean. She’s self-aware and relatable without losing her own individuality in the process. I hated seeing her suffer but loved watching her grow stronger through it. She has standards and opinions yet she doubts herself on nearly every step and all I wanted to do was to reach through the pages and give her a slap and go GIRL, YOU A STAR. She’s what a YA protagonist should be, in my humble onion. My only complaint would probably be that she’s a bit too self-aware for a reglier teenager, but it makes sense for the story and the premise and the growth she goes through, so I don’t think it’s something that ruins her in any capacity. Maybe she’s just way more clever than I was at 17, lmao. 

The Mistress. What can I say without saying too much? Man, what a villain! Like, damn! Yes! Gurl! Yes! Terrifying! I hate her absolute guts! Every time she was in a scene I wanted to crawl under a blanket and bring Elizabeth with me to protecc her. This woman’s aesthetic and evil-ness rivals a Disney villain, and like, not in a bad way, but in the best way. The panache with which she does all her evil shit is just *chef kiss* I wanted to do violence to this woman but I knew if I’d existed in this story she’d absolutely destroy me if I looked at her wrong, and I think that’s what my ideal villain archetype is. The Mistress is deliciously, stylishly evil. You read the book half because you want Elizabeth to win, and half because you want, nay, NEED to see the Mistress lose. Some might say they need a villain to be more complex or whatever, but I’m firmly in the “evil people exist and evil antagonists are fun to write if you do it properly” camp, and here it’s done properly, IMHO. The Mistress doesn’t need a sad backstory or a complex motivation to be an effective, intimidating, and interesting antagonist. 

I also really liked Madame Selene. At first I found her to be kind of cliché as a mystical fortune teller, but there’s actually a very interesting spin on that trope in her character, and I found her to be endlessly interesting as a result of it. I can’t say much more without further spoilers, but let’s just say there’s a reason she’s all cryptic and weird and refuses to speak plainly. My biggest gripe is that she didn’t get as much screentime as I wanted. I just need more of Madame Selene.

I honestly can’t say I found any of the other side characters to be lacking (even Bridget, whomst I need to strangle, was fun to hate), but I will say that my favorites were definitely one of the couples. The older one especially.

I will also repeat that I love Elizabeth. Very much. I love Elizabeth twice. Ahem.

Anyway, special mention should be made that the cast is quite diverse despite being fairly small. I didn’t expect anything less from Jillian, of course, but I just wanted to point it out for those who had doubts. 

The Negatives and the Mehgatives

Because oh yes, it ain’t a review by Eff if they don’t complain about shit.

Now, some of these are things that aren’t necessarily bad, but others did feel like they were in the way of making this book as good as it could be. I usually split my reviews further up into “worldbuilding” and “plot”, but since I don’t feel like I have enough to say about those to justify their own sections, I’ve decided to just throw them in here. 

The worldbuilding is sparse, and that’s fine for this genre and this specific story. It plays out (mostly) in the reglier world with sort of reglier people, so I wasn’t expecting Tolkien levels of depth going in (in fact I find Tolkien levels of depth to not be necessary more than half the time but that’s another discussion). I got glimpses of some very interesting things that I’d very much like to see more of, but it feels more like stuff that would fit an “extended universe” sort of series and the lack of more supernatural/unique elements felt fine and didn’t really bother me.

Now to the less than good stuff. As much as I enjoyed the progression of the plot and Elizabeth’s character, and the steady flow of hints and developments felt elegant, I did feel like the mystery was a little bit predictable, and the foreshadowing a bit on the nose, especially in the very beginning. (Elizabeth’s shoulder scar was mentioned probably half a dozen times more than necessary.)

For example (mild spoilers, skip to next paragraph if you want to avoid), there’s a section where a character is taken away and Elizabeth hears them scream. After that, she keeps mentioning how that character is definitely, 100% dead, there’s no way they survived, they’re totally a corpse now, someone dig a hole and find a coffin. I thought it made sense for Elizabeth to feel fear and grief and assume the worst, so I’m not as bothered by it as I would’ve been in a worse book, but it did feel a bit like she was trying to convince the reader more than like she was mourning.

The foreshadowing being on the nose and the mystery being predictable are sort of intertwined, and I think it’s probably the book’s biggest flaw? That said, if you don’t consider yourself super savvy with writing and storytelling techniques, you might not pick up on this stuff at all. I also liked the plot despite finding it predictable, so if you’re not really interested in a super complex mystery but are interested in a good story, you’ll probably find this intriguing enough. 

The second biggest flaw of the book is the ending, in my opinion. It felt a bit rushed, and I would’ve liked to see side characters tied up as neatly as the plot itself. Not ... in a sexy way, yikes. I mean their arcs and stuff. There’s one in particular I felt was lacking, where I would’ve wanted to see more of a reaction and conclusion to something terrible that happened before. The character in question was pretty important during the whole middle of the book, and in the end they’re just sort of glossed over and exit the narrative, literally. The ending is supposed to be sort of open, I think, so I can respect that, but it could’ve been open while still feeling complete, ya know?

And the romance ... Well, let’s move on to the next bit, shall we? 

The Gay

Full disclosure: I’m straight. Well, that’s the word I use, and some might disagree with it because I’m nonbinary and say my attraction to men would make me “queer”. But that’s the word I use for my general thing, not my sexuality specifically.

ANYWAY. This is all fluff that I’m using to ease you into the real point: I’m, like, not into reading wlw romance. Or mlm romance. At all? I’m not against it by any means, go wild my dudes, and I hate 90% of all “straight” romances because straight people largely can’t write love for shit.

I’m saying this because I think there’s a lot of fellow straighties out there thinking they’ll be made “uncomfortable” by the gays or that it’ll make them question their sexuality and stuff. And 1) lmao cowards 2) I get it, it feels “”””weird”””” and you don’t relate but like 3) stop being a lil bitch and open your mind.

If you’re a straighty and you’re curious about this book but think that the lady-kissing is spookie, I’m here to inform you that yeah, romantic love between women is heavily, and I mean heavily, tied into the main plot. But it’s not really a book about homosexuality or homophobia. It feels natural, and normal, and is never made out to be a Thing, except when Elizabeth speculates about her parents’ reactions to her coming out. It’s not a book about TEH GAYS specifically, it’s a book about love, that just happens to be between women. If you can accept that and go into it with an open mind, like I did because I am Very Woke, I think you’ll find a new appreciation and perspective for romances that aren’t straight.

Now, back to the actual book. The romance in TSR is frustrating to me because one of them is amazing, so amazing that even I, a filthy man-lover, found it melting my heart. It’s lovely, it’s beautifully written, it’s got a gorgeous aesthetic and an excellent pairing with plenty of warm and fluffy chemistry without shying away from their sexuality. I loved this relationship and I wish there was a book just about these two ladies. It’s honestly #romancegoals. 

The second one is ... not that. It felt sort of rushed and like it was constantly trying to justify itself. It wasn’t instalove, but it also sort of was? I can’t explain it without spoiling so you’ll have to read it for yourself. It could have something to do with the fact that the other couple are teenagers and the previous one are adults so their relationship felt more mature and established, but both get roughly the same amount of screen time and I’m quite frankly baffled by how differently they’re handled.

Given how dark and honest and real most of this book was (despite the magic stuff), it felt really jarring to have the second romance be so empty.

To its credit, I was very much rooting for the teen couple. I even imagined how they’d meet up and fight the villain together. If their ending had been just a little bit more open (as opposed to the general ending, which I wanted to be less open lol) and their romance not quite as definitively sealed, I think I would’ve loved it too, because it would’ve fit better with the tone of the rest of the storytelling.

As it stands, I think the different romantic relationships shown in this book are interesting and show off different dynamics and are a good starting point for important conversations baby wlw (and other romantically inclided peeps tbh) might want to have. Yes, even -- and possibly especially -- the abusive ones. 

This story has a lot to say about love and I think it’s important stuff people need to hear nowadays, especially YA audiences.

The Conclusion

If you’re looking for a paranormal YA mystery with a bit of gore thrown in, complete with a lesbian protag and a diverse cast, self-contained and tasty like a very small hamburger, The Songbird’s Refrain is well worth your time. 

It’s got a great romance, an excellent protagonist, an unsettling atmosphere, a fun villain, and a genuinely touching story dealing with important subjects like healthy love, abusive relationships, and self-worth.

If you’re not a fan of one aspect of this book but the rest seems appealing, I think you should go for it and maybe realize as you’re reading that it doesn’t matter that much because the rest of the package deal is excellent.

[kewltie]

YEAR END FIC REVIEW

This year I wrote: 

biological imperative 

wings of icarus

war of the roses

sugar, we’re going down

you are cordially invited...

garden of eden

your kiss tastes so red

hana to ryuu 

a demolition boy & his cryptid bf

the fox’s bride

when dandelion roars

hope is a four letter word

butterfly pinned under glass

the devil and the deep blue sea

vol 1: goodbye halcyon days

papa said to knock you out

my boy builds coffin

love meme, hate meme

interlude: paper darling

in rouge

at the feet of the world

that’s 21 stories (124k words!!!) and that’s discounting all the random fic snippets that i wrote only on tumblr so far. 

Overall thoughts

My actual writing year didn’t really start until like in May which mean the bulk of my writing was in the last half of the year. I spent most of the first half reposting and moving my eunhae fic over to ao3 so I didn’t actually have any new fic to post (even tho i was prob still writing away with random fic ideas anyway but no actual completed fic to post) until I wrote BI for bakudeku and that pretty much sealed the deal for me. New fandom, new pairing, and new obsession. Honestly coming in I was worry how slow I was writing and how I didn’t get much done but looking at my fic list and my wordcounts and HOW I DID IT ALL IN HALF A YEAR... im pretty impress with myself :D.

Also, I think it’s a good time as any to finally realize and accept when you finally  move on to a new fandom. So thank you v v v v much to my old fandom for nurturing me and helping me grow as i writer these past five years. You made every eunhae fic worth it, thank you again!!!!

My best story of the year

“A demolition boy & his cryptid bf” if all the kudoes that keep on coming tell me. Here’s a random tidbit about it: i wrote it all in like 2-3 days in some sort of mad spur. social media style fic was something i did for eunhae before so it wasn’t new to me so i guess that’s why it came easy enough LOL but this was little more intensive just bc i wanted it look even better but im sooooo glad ppl were so accepting of it despite the style of the fic and the way it was format. you guys rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! gave me enough confident to start “love meme, hate meme” even tho im pretty sure i was going to do it anyway lol. 

My favorite story of the year

“love meme, hate meme,” only bc it is my masterpiece in term of how fucking damn pretty it is and how much blood, sweat, and tears i poured into it just to get that damn FONT COLOR RIGHT. 

Most fun story to write

“papa said to knock you out” aka kasumi ‘verse only bc she literally wrote herself. her voice come clear and true to me and i had such a fun time writing in her pov!! it also plays into my dumb romcom trope that i always love bc royalty au? CHECK? single parents? CHECK CHECK? past secret love affair? CHEEEEEEEECK. it’s just all so damn cliche and it’s me to T and i fucking love it. 

Story with the single sexiest moment

“In Rouge” played with a lot of things i love where it borders on sexy/intimate without crossing the line. like im 90% sure bakudeku were going to bang in the restroom but the fact that it’s THE RESTROOM IN THEIR SCHOOL and katsuki is damn good bf and wouldn’t want their first time in that shitty place so yea hands to themselves. but honestly i don’t do smut/nsfw but i always tread the water with it lol with my kink fics bc i am kinky v v v much so but i do in a way that is comfortable with me without dealing with explicit sex and im really glad i get to show off that in my fic bc sexy doesn’t alway have to lead up to sex ya know???? 

Most "holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story

"my boy builds coffin” a katsuki that kill sends shiver down to spine but man writing it and thinking what push him over the edge was exciting only bc i love my fluff in general but i highkey love dark and edgy stuff too esp super dysfunctional relationship, yo. 

Story that shifted my own perception of the characters

"My boy builds coffin” for sure. Only because I wanted to stretch how Katsuki would fall and understand the length he would go to ensure a future where izuku is alive and thriving and I THOUGHT man if your future bf who is this scarred and traumatized individual person come back in time to protect you by killing every fucking thing that hurt you and instead of freaking the fuck out you’re like “um, IM SO JEALOUS OF MY FUTURE SELF TO HAVE THIS PERSON DEDICATE THEIR LIFE TO THEM” and im like fuck bc that’s the kind of fucked upness that i love. 

Hardest story to write

if it isn’t “love meme, hate meme” than THIS IS YEAR IS FUCKING CANCEL. the formatting,juggling a gazillion of usernames, the font color and text, THE FANFIC ARCHIVE etc everything i have to carefully format and code even tho i have extremely and bullshit knowledge of it. 

Biggest disappointment

nothing???? i love ALL MY BABIES. but no really that fucking mad max au im writing and was supposed to be posted yest.... DAMN YOU. 

Biggest surprise

Uh, “demolition boy” and probably “kasumi verse” only bc i never intend for either of them to happen :P. 

Most unintentionally telling story

the vampire fic my entire reason for writing it is so I CAN PROCRASTINATE ON THE ACTUAL FI IM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING. i wrote it all in one sitting passed waaaay into the AMs. that’s... some dedication to my procrastination. 

Story I haven't written yet, but intend to

the age gap abo childhood friends au i have been working on the side :S.

Goals for this year: 

Finished all my major projects (kasumi ‘verse, wedding verse, social media au, stepbro au)

hopefully i can get started on gasoline verse aka the post zombie fest where bakudeku tried to survived it by building the most codependent fucked up relationship possible :D; it’s letting your bf become a ‘zombie’ just bc you can’t live without him 

WRITE AT LEAST ONE TODODEKUBAKU FIC!!!!!

thank you soooooo much for putting up with this year!!!! i know im really bad at replying/commenting and interacting with you guys but i want you to all know i feel incredibly blessed and humble by all your kindness and support. you all treated me so well last year and this year I hope to return your kind gesture by giving you more stories to read in 2019!!! :D

[jumphq]

A Hand to the Devil? A Gift to the Masses?

I’m thinking that this might be my last post here on Tumblr. I’m not antiTumblr, necessarily…it was a necessity in 2015 to get up and going as quickly as possible. But it has always felt clunky and now that we have other options: our official page, Medium, Patreon…it’s time to consolidate, I think. I feel like this blog has kind of been out in the wilderness a little and maybe it’s time to give it a better home.

Speaking of Patreon, our page launched last Thursday, and while I was very much looking forward to it, I can’t lie: I lost a number of nights of sleep over it. Why?

It’s the oldest way for artists to exist: through the patronage of people that want to support the artists in making new art. This practice allowed tons of artists do what they did for centuries, and happily. But this practice hasn’t really been a part of the modern world until “crowdfunding” became legal. Even then, it is one thing to ask people to help you pay for one thing. It’s another to ask for people to give part of their monthly income to you, not knowing about the thing, but hoping that a thing happens. So, anxiety.

It is thrilling and feels icky at the same time, to ask for people to be your patrons. On the one hand, why shouldn’t you ask? I want to create things, as an artist. I want to create things for a living, as an artist. Why would those two statements need to be separate thoughts?

I was actually taught that they were separate thoughts. If you are a son of two artists, you learn that money isn’t something that is easy to come by. You go to art school, you are encouraged to wear the “starving artist” badge on your sleeve proudly. Artists are special. They are different. Artists are poor.

Again, why? I don’t know. If you’ve never tried to make a living being a full-time artist, you might don’t know this. It’s hard. When I make money as a web developer, it sometimes makes me angry. Why do I make so much more money building a website for a marketing firm, or an app for a company that sells stocks? These jobs aren’t nearly as difficult or interesting to me as writing a song or acting in a play, but they are far more highly valued by society.

I like writing code. I like getting paid to do so. But I don’t like it as much as being on stage. I can (more easily) support my family writing code, and live a comfortable life, but if that’s all I do, I feel unfulfilled. I could build websites by day and act in plays at night, but that is sort of a drag for me because then I’m in two full-time day jobs and am always sort of strung out and exhausted and can’t give my best to any work I do.

This is just me, by the way. I’m just speaking about my experience as an artist. My fellow developers are very fulfilled being full-time coders. Tons of actors here in Chicago love to have day jobs for money and then put on their “Artist Caps” at night. They have the drive and energy to do that. I am not knocking their choices. I’m just a better person, a better artist, when I am single-tasking: getting paid to do one, fulfilling, creative job.

Jump, Little Children never got “famous”. We were successful for a rock band in that we could hit the road and have between 50 and 5000 people come see us when we played, depending on the location. In some cities we were almost a household name and in others very few people had heard of us. We weren’t as business-savvy and easy to swallow as Guster and we weren’t a sexy two-person band like Shovels and Rope. We just didn’t catch on enough, and there is no big clear reason why. We cannot really blame bad management and record label issues. The truth is that tons of amazing bands don’t catch on, don’t make it to Conan, but love writing and playing and do it for as long as they can financially and emotionally stay afloat. It doesn’t matter “why”. We gave it our all, made some good decisions and some bad ones, and were proud that it was our full-time job for as long as it was.

Of course, by “full-time job” standards, we were way below the poverty level our entire career. It’s expensive to run a business, and Jump was our sexy business, which meant that if there was anyone that was going to get a pay cut when times were tough, it wouldn’t be our manager, tour manager, lawyer, or sound guy. Just us. You keep going in the hopes that you’ll eventually be the ones making the most money; that didn’t happen for us and I have no regrets.

It was amazing to finally get paid a living wage when the band was done in 2005. The first time I made a weekly paycheck I couldn’t believe it. Making $30k a year for the first time was like being fabulously wealthy…and this was in my very late 30s. Being comfortable was intoxicating for a while, but not being a creative person for a living kind of left me with a empty feeling in my chest. My journal entries pre-2015 had a theme: ask after ask for the Universe to bring me something that would both be a fulfilling career and support my family at the same time.

Yet when the Universe brought the Jump reunion in 2015 to me, I was the last person in the band that said “yes”. I assumed that the chapter was closed and I was fine with it. The five of us weren’t that close at the time and I had forgotten what it was like to play music with people that knew you as well as Jay, Johnny, Ward and Evan knew me. I knew that saying “yes” was going to open up a lot of baggage that had been packed away, would be a ton of extra work for me personally, was going to be scary and emotional and possibly a big fucking failure.

It has been some of those things, too. But as you’ve gathered from this blog, it has also been incredible–a great creative lump of plaster putty to fill in my unfulfilled chest hole (gross!). Worth the being away from home, worth the pay cuts again, worth the anxieties and fears and insecurities. Lots and lots of sleepless nights. Worth it.

I’m luckier than the members of the band that don’t live on Facebook and Instagram, I’m luckier than those that don’t stay in the lobbies of rock clubs after every show until the venue kicks us all out. I’m luckier, because I can see the direct impact our saying “yes” to JLC in 2015 made on your lives and therefore on my life. You’re very honest about it, and I don’t take it lightly. The music has gotten you through bad times and good and happy moments and sad. The community has not just been a place to put your love of a rock band, but also a place to put your own dreams and hopes and needs. Every band might be required to say “we couldn’t do it without our fans” but I know more than anyone how true that statement is for Jump. I’m lucky.

So, Patreon.

Man, it is hard. I get it. For those of you that are a little taken aback at our choice to try this out in order to keep our creative little rock and roll world afloat, I feel you. Everyone is asking for your money these days. How can people that don’t have 9 to 5 jobs ask you to help pay for their lifestyle? Especially if you like your 9 to 5 job? I do not have an answer, because it feels a little icky and uncomfortable to me, too.

Cards on table: Jump, Little Children has two options in 2019. We can’t afford to do what we did last year and not get paid for the intense amount of work it takes to be a mostly-full-time band: writing, recording, touring, posting, streaming, marketing. We either try this Patreon thing out, or something like it, to see if it will help us be able to spend more time writing music and creating things, or we spend less time on the band and do more lucrative things to keep food on tables. Realistically, we will still have to do other things anyway, but anything helps. The days (and chances) of a big record label swooping in and paying us to write and record songs are over, and even when our big record label did swoop in, we didn’t get a pay raise anyway.

Friday morning I woke up with an idea to record some Irish music with my friend Amanda Kapousouz in time for St. Pat’s. And I felt a freedom to have that thought that I didn’t have before. Sure, I might have done the recording anyway, but knowing that I could at some point make a creative work like that happen and get paid for it was inspiring. I’ve just spent three hours writing this letter to you. Connecting with you has always been my job and always will be, whether I get paid for it or not, but it does take time, time that I could spend coding, I suppose. I’d rather write these love letters to you.

Patronage isn’t about putting a price on your love. We are putting a price on the pride we take in our work, the time we take to agonize over details, the care we put into everything from a melody, to a sentence, a pixel, a shade of hair dye. It’s not your responsibility to feed us. It’s our responsibility to find the means to feed ourselves. We would like to do that by writing songs and producing new content, and we are attempting to find new and creative ways to do so.

It could be a winning solution for everyone. If this works out for us, the goal is to keep writing music and performing. With something like Patreon, we could possibly have a new album next year. Without it, we might have a new album in 2022. That’s not a huge difference. Either way, it’s OK, right?

Support us on Patreon if you can, but if you cannot: please don’t. Please please don’t. If you like this idea and want to support us, but can’t afford to, let us know how we might help you make that work. Is it to change the tier prices? To put more stuff in the lower tiers? What would make it worth it? We need to have all the data at hand.

And if you can’t, please accept that we are still going to be around and not play games with your hearts? We’ll post to the same social media and do the same silly LIVE chats and tour and hopefully write new music. We are here, we love you just as much, so you can let other people pay while you reap the benefits, OK?

Whew. I feel better getting this off my chest…thank you. I’m gonna go record some flute, now, for fun…and profit?

We love you,

Matt “Overshare” Bivins

[thehollowprince]

Hey, it’s the “coding” anon here and honestly that answer to my question was excellent and the exact reason I come to your blog. I would absolutely love to hear you go on about the fetishization of m/m relationships!

This has been sitting in my inbox for over a week, and I want to apologize. I'm sorry for taking so long to get to this one, but I'm overworked at the moment. I've been pulling 60+ hour work weeks, by myself and I haven't had off since the first of December, so I'm a little tired. But I'm here and I'm ready to murder this bitch of a subject.

For starters, and for context, in case anyone who sees this doesn't follow my blog or, if you do and don't really pay attention, I am a gay man, so a lot of this comes from my own personal experience.

Now, onward my fandom soldiers.

M|M Fetishization & Objectification

I've only been super active within fandom spaces for the last couple of years. Before that, I just scrolled through Tumblr and reblogged gifsets and fluffy headcanons and whatnot, but even then I noticed a trend in fandoms that made me uncomfortable. That trend was the overabundance of gay men (chatacters) in fandom works, especially when there either weren't any gay men in that show or book or whatever.

I'm not at all saying we need less of that. I want and need more gay characters in the things I watch and read. That's actually one of the criteria I look for before I start a new show, or a book series or comics. I want to see myself represented in the media I consume, even if it is only this one tiny piece of who I am. But the problem for me arose when I saw all these fan works and headcanons and gifsets and thesis length metas about gay or bi male characters that were neither of those things in their original source material.

The biggest examples of this occured in fairly popular shows that I loved at one point, but do to a combination of bad writing and then the horrible fandom, drove me to actively dislike and avoid them. And that's always a sad thing, when you end up losing the love you had for something because others just won't let you enjoy it as it is.

Those two examples are Teen Wolf and Supernatural.

For years I watched people go on and on and on and on about Stiles Stilinski and Dean Winchester and how they were bisexual and so on and so forth.

There's nothing wrong with headcanoning a character as gay or bisexual, especially when those characters are severely lacking on screen and on paper. The problem arose when the fandom at large started to ignore the ACTUAL gay or bisexual characters that are in these shows and focus solely on their headcanons as the only representation in the show.

To start with Teen Wolf, we had, in the first season, an openly gay character that everybody in the school loved, that being Danny Mahealani. This character was introduced as gay from the very start, but oddly enough, there is almost no large fandom meta or fics or anything about him. In fact, a lot of his traits and qualities ended up transferred to Stiles, such as his intelligence and overall popularity. Hell, even Danny's attraction to Derek was stolen and transferred to him. These aren't things that Stiles is overall known for in the actual canon. He's clumsy and socially awkward and on the outskirts of the school like Scott (the main character) and has been obsessed (to the point of being considered a stalker) with one girl since elementary school, but somehow, in fandom, Stiles is suddenly the genius polyglot queer with severe depression who has a crush on the broody muscular werewolf who just wants somebody to love him.

Fandom created this portrayal of the character that didn't exist anywhere in the fandom except for his appearance. The reason I saw behind this was twofold. 1: fangirls (fandom is mostly female) want to see two "hot" guys kiss and get it on because they get off to it, much in the same way that straight men get off to lesbian porn. 2: Stiles (or any of these headcanoned characters) becomes a sort of self insert.

What I mean by that second one is that women and girls find a male character that's not "too masculine", usually kind of gangly or skinny, somewhat on the effeminate side. Someone that they can project their ideas and insecurities and so forth onto so that they can that pursue that relationship with the hunky manly man that they want to bang.

You may be asking yourself, "Why don't they just use one of the female characters as a self insert?" and I'm here to tell you that I have neither the time nor the experience to go into detail about internalized misogyny and how effects the way women do almost everything, even watching and interpreting their media.

But the reason they chose the male character is that, years ago, during the dark days of FF.net there was a lot of self insert OCs that infiltrated almost every level of fanfiction. Which caused the fandom gatekeepers to rear out of their hibernation and just shame anyone who tried to introduce an Original Character to this already beautiful world and ruin it with their lusts. Thus the OCs slowly disappeared and identifying with the male sidekick was born. And this is generally where we get the whole "my smol gay son!" bullshit. (side note: please keep in mind that 75% of shows are male characters and their problems, which is another cause for female fans to identify solely with men.)

So, for years, I watched Danny, and then his boyfriend Ethan, being shoved aside in fandom spaces so that the fans could focus Sterek (Stiles and Derek) despite the fact that both characters were stared to be heterosexual and that, on screen, they expressed nothing but mutual dislike for one another, if not outright hatred. This got so bad that Sterek, the crack ship whose members had no romantic or sexual interactions whatsoever, managed to beat (by a very large margin) actual gay ships from both this show and others in a fan poll. It got even worse when the character of Danny was written off the show (with no explanation) and we were introduced to the character of Mason.

Mason Hewitt was everything that fandom!Stiles was. He was smart and funny and openly gay and crushing on a hot werewolf. He even did the research that the fandom loved to attribute to Stiles, literally everything that the fandom had Stiles doing in fanon, but somehow the love for him (Mason) wasn't that big of a note in the fandom. I mean, Mason was even a major plot point of season five and the pack's mission to stop the Beast, but i heard nothing but cricket chirps from the fandom.

You'd think that after Stiles was written out of the show for the last season that maybe Mason will get some love now, right?

Wrong!

I didn't think it was possible to get any worse, but the fandom proved me wrong. Because instead of focusing all their pent up energy on Mason and his boyfriend, Corey, who had a number of cute moments in that final season, these fans focused on another crack ship that had no basis anywhere except in their fantasies. That ship being Thiam, which is based, once again, around two characters who actively dislike, if not outright hate, each other and even physically assault one another. But no, that apparently is a display of affection by someone who is emotionally stunted and just needs love to blossom and be his true self.

You notice how often the fetishization of homosexuality (even if only imagined) intersects with woobification?

You'll notice, if you look at Danny and Mason, that they're both POC, with Danny being brown (Hawai'ian) and Mason being black. Now, as I've said before on this blog multiple times, I am the Whittest White Man to ever White, so I don't have any qualifications to talk about fandom racism, so I'm just going to leave that little nugget there for you to think about and interpret how you will.

Moving on to Supernatural...

Before we start with this one, understand that I have not watched this show outside of an episode here and there since season eight, because I realized that no, this show wasn't going to get any better, so if any of this is contradictory to what has happened over the past six seasons (god, this show needs to die!) I do apologize.

Dean Winchester... I never really liked this character, especially as the show went on and I started to actively dislike and then, hate him. So it was annoying not being able to go into any aspect of the Supernatural fandom without coming across a post about Dean and his issues or his Bi sexiness or how his brother was mean to him.

Also, people, understand that this wasn't a new revelation for me. My dislike for Dean and the fandom's obsession with making him bisexual just so they could hook him up with Cas wasn't an overnight decision. I was there...

I was there at the Beginning, when this show first aired, when the ONLY constant characters on this show were Sam and Dean. I endured the hellfire that was Wincest and its infection of almost the entire fandom. Like, that right there, that was one of the most extreme cases of m|m fetishization I've ever seen, because the fandom needed to get off to two guys being together so badly that they turned to actual brothers for want of any other male character.

That's why Destiel immediately became so popular, because here was another guy that we saw with semi regularity that wasn't rated to the Winchesters, obviously they were meant to ship them.

Now, you may be asking yourself, "I thought this bitch was going to talk about gay fetishization, not his dislike for one character?" to which I'll just say I very easily go off tangent. But all of that is relevant because, come one of these later seasons, there was a scene where Dean was at a bar and the (male) bartender hit on him, and he didn't react negatively or homophobic.

Oh, my God, I watched my dash and the tags explode in post after post, meta after meta, about how Bi Dean was canon confirmed! Now he and Cas will HAVE to be together, because its canon that Dean likes guys. and Cas is an angel, who doesn't follow human sexual limitations, and... blah, blah, blah.

Cut to a few years later, and we're introduced to a character named Max Banes, a witch and hunter, who is openly gay and flirts with Sam in his first appearance. Where were all of his metas and fanfics and headcanons? Granted, he only appeared in two episodes, but I have watched people in this and other fandoms build mountains our of molehills, going on and on about how two male characters weren't actually straight and how they were destined to be together because the once wore similar style shirts a couple of seasons apart, or because of a carnation in a jacket pocket that signified love via the Victorian flower code (or something like that), or how the wallpaper of that room they shared a scene in was a subtle clue to their true desire for each other, etc.

And I'm not exaggerating there, those are actual examples I've seen in fandoms over the years.

But back to Max, why is it that he was left along the wayside, despite fitting most of the criteria that fandoms love in their m|m ships while Dean had entire thesis level posts about that time he shared a glance with Castiel or he let a bartender hit on him and not get upset?

And its not just these two shows, not by a long shot. If you were to go into literally any fandom of a certain size or bigger, you will come across fans putting two straight characters together because of "the chemistry" they have. Even if those characters are confirmed to be straight - especially if those characters are confirmed to be straight. Because when these loud fans don't get their crack ship that they rub one out to, they scream queerbaiting and homophobia and oppression, harassing the actors and producers and directors and writers.

Here are some others that just pop to the front of my mind...

Asher Millstone from How To Get Away With Murder (saw him shipped with Connor a lot, despite Connor's actual boyfriend)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from BBC's Sherlock

Tony Stark from Marvel comics (all because of one panel where he said "ladies and gents" when he announced he was off the market

Literally any male character in the MCU, which is his we get the things like Stucky and Stony that permeate the fandom on almost every level (and some leeway is given here because of the MCU's lack of wueer characters)

Klaus Mikaelson and Stefan Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries/The Originals (honestly, I was surprised that people in the TVD fandom weren't immediately all over Josh and Lucas, because they're literally everything that fans want and use in their headcanon gays)

Kol Mikaelson and Jeremg Gilbert, also from TVD

Elia and Filippo from Skam Italia (despite there being, once again, actual gay characters on this show. Hell, the entire second season was dedicated to a character coming out of the closet and being with a guy)

Etc.

I could go on and on but then this post would seem infinite.

Closing thoughts, please keep in mind that I am just one guy and that my opinions don't represent everyone in fandom spaces. But also bear in mind, that my frustrations are well founded and valid from my own experiences in the fandom.

My sexuality and the fact that I'm attracted to men is not a toy for a bunch of sexually repressed fangirls who think two guys being together is hot.