#very lobotomy coded

[ghost-cwunches-diary]

like i honestly dont even know what people want from me whatttt

[shrimpnamedshrimp]

Allow me to infodump some fixer headcanons

[beargregor]

i'm fully aware that we're never getting a lobcorp remaster/major update to make it less janky but God i wish we would... i've always thought lobcorp is the type of game that'd benefit greatly from direct mod support so every time i see any of the existing modders mention how big of a pain it is working with it i die a little inside

[tatonslice]

if you remember sergey from the last time i lobcorp employee posted he has a b est friend,. forever. his name is reinhardt and hes also regular and totally lived the whole 50 days definitely did not die nope not at all

[gangplanksorenji]

Magnitude

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Male Reader ft. ITZY’s Yeji

Word Count: 13,912

A/N: Hallo again Orenjideul! I don't know what or who possessed me to write this yet here we are. Thanks to @kooyabooya for betareading and the insights! Enjoy reading and hope you like this one! god this is the longest i've ever written i would need some nice hibernative lobotomy right after.

A sequel to Pulchritude

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

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“Wait, this feels good—what’s happening?”

You’re in this lucid state, feeling everything is written to your own fate—you have the pen, writing your own story onto your own book yet this one feels different, and it’s more than this reality.

You break into this trance, cracking the code and guess what, the culprit was just a meter away, and down to your southern peripherals.

A faint blur distracts you from your drowsy state, far from regaining the peak state of your senses as you involuntarily call her name and hear her little chuckle. You wouldn’t expect waking up to such a delightful sight and moreover, making yourself closer to the edge.

“Hope you didn’t mind this—sorry for waking you up…” Yeji’s gaze shoots a primal instinct up in your spine, an instinct somewhat close to arousal as you quickly regain your senses to assess the situation that’s been happening.

“Hah—you’re clearly in need, Yeji.” Your voice feels raspy that usual and it’s no surprise. She smiles while still maintaining her eye contact, knowing that there’s no world she wouldn’t agree with. 

You’re in a vulnerable state, laying down as she audaciously coursed its way towards your nether region and it was clear what her need is. You could only succumb onto the pleasure she brings in every flick, twist and inevitable kiss. Her mouth never fails to amaze you and with such overwhelming factors with her expertise, it didn’t become long before your hands found the ginger blur and surprisingly, she stopped you from a leverage that just made everything fall down into utter deprivation.

It is the best of both worlds: shooting up gratification up your spine and inability to handle the situation better through a defenseless state, her body poised to assert control over you.

“No—not now—” Yeji’s hands were fast enough to stop you, and you could only utter a symphony of moans, mouth slightly agape as she continued her prowess. “—relax and let me do the work for you.”

Those words latched with lust and it illuminates on those very eyes of hers. You know this will be a long day full of secrets and surprises and for sure, it will be.

---

It’s probably the addiction that settles within her, unable to make herself deprived from the taste of you and you just succumb to her control, feeling every nerve in you invigorated with her pleasurable maw.

She takes it all and it earns a moan coming out of you, Yeji gleefully taking it as a signal to even elevate the experience and god, she doesn’t disappoint. She glides her mouth all throughout your length, glistening it with her spit and slobbering over it like it’s her last meal. There’s something about the way her pace compliments her techniques—not too fast, not too slow and focusing on how you derive pleasure, not hers.

You’d never get tired of this.

“God—fuck, that’s great Yeji…” You moan and she takes it as a compliment, dancing her tongue all over that insatiable muscle, never withdrawing and ultimately pleasing. 

You run your hands throughout her ginger hair, opting for leverage for her immaculate display of talent as she pulls up another trick that makes you weak—fondling those balls dying for a release.

She releases, and drives her attention onto those, suckling each one as she strokes your cock, making it hardly stiff and it throbs with the cool air the room permeates. You uncontrollably elicit streams of groans and pleas, calling out her name as the pleasure is stimulating you up to your limit and thankfully, you’re able to cope and fight.

“I’d need to start off the day with one hell of a breakfast.” You heard it loud and clear, and she’s not going to play, making up for the sluggishness she's shown earlier, taking you hard and fast and that was your breaking point.

You can’t even acknowledge everything she probably said as your sensitivity increases, feeling her simple touch could break you at any given moment. Her rapidly bobbing picture falls a little blur to you, just totally focused on succumbing onto the pleasure and you fall down deeper into the abyss, her in full control.

She looks at you, seeing your eyes closed, mouth able to just repeatedly groan makes her smile evidently even with your length fully plunged inside her tight throat. Her hands work like magic, around your spit-sheathed length, putting you up in a spell where you’ll ascend in no time and you can’t fathom how she’s great at everything like this—it’s heavenly sinful and rightfully wrong, because you could just feel her mouth parting away from your head and you don’t want it to end like that.

You surely hit the jackpot meeting a girl like Yeji, perfect in every inch and ultimately talented in various ways, mostly regarding the intimate scope of things but you could just assume there’s more to know about this girl. 

She gives you another chaste kiss, making you shudder in response as she utters a proposition you can’t properly decide, and it’s not helpful with the way her hands glide with such a moderate pace and the constant fondling of those balls that’s needing to be drained.

“I have options for you—thinking really opportunistically here, y’know?” Yeji’s elbows rested onto the mattress, laying onto her stomach as she didn’t stop her strokes, eyes gazed onto yours as she demanded an answer. “Would you want me to finish you, right down my throat or… ride you until you spill everything inside me—your choice.”

You’d die for a woman like her riding you like it’s her last, feeling that weight on her slam against you as she does all the work but you can’t miss out of that heavenly mouth of hers—she possibly have sucked you for god knows how long but it’s your drug that you can’t get enough.

Even with a clouded mind, the verdict was clearly decided without any hesitation.

Partly missing out of her expected tarnation with her walls clenching around you for like the third time, you utters words that seals the deal. “Your mouth, Yeji—can’t get enough of it.”

It was crystal clear and she didn’t waste time parting her lips against your swollen head again, clearly hungry for your taste as she enthusiastically thrusted herself with a pace unparalleled than before, full on the throttle. Her hands rests onto your thighs, a leverage for a greater velocity she’s evidently consistent of, not turning back as she knows how you’re getting closer to the promised land.

“Such t-talent you have there, Yeji—fuck!” And it was predominantly factual, your compliments simply fueling her for more as she works both her hands to stimulate whatever she can—those aching balls, ticklish touches and her tongue dancing around was a great element of utter gratification.

You melt under her touch, completely indulged to the pleasure as her eyes widen, feeling your persistent throbs a sign of your nearing orgasm and she doubles her efforts, hollowing her cheeks to emit a vacuum that elevates the pressure, driving you onto the edge with pace. With her commendable performance breaking your reservoir loose, you call out her name and this time, it’s different and it’s primal call for your utter need.

“Yeji—Yeji, I can’t t-take it any longer…” She knows this and she utilizes your exasperated state in bliss, not even responding to your words as she plunges her mouth deeper, nose flushed onto your abdomen as you groan beautifully. The signal was a carnal call of delight, releasing every spurt down her walls as she gags repeatedly because of it, fighting the urge to withdraw but was unsuccessful in the end. She chokes a little, coughing a little of your cum before her fingers catch it, not wasting a single drop and tasting it with a face so sullied it makes it even harder.

Her idyllic visage showing her ultimate work being a complete mess wins it all, and her day has never been better and it’s just the start of it.

“Thanks for the ‘breakfast’ you gave me—its taste never fails…” Of course it never does, fingers licking signifying utter satisfaction on Yeji’s end.

You know she swallowed it all, like the good girl that she has been all throughout the time you’ve met her. She continued cleaning you off, tongue swirling in every centimeter aiming to tidy the mess she made as her constant slurps derives the sultriest moans in you. The sensitivity is on the roof as her touch is kryptonite and with your softening cock, she knows her business is now over and let the both of you appreciate each other’s beauty for another time.

“You’re crazy at that, Yeji.”

Yeji chuckles, smiling sincerely enough to make you in awe as her crescent-like eyes accentuates her striking and beautiful face. “I just can’t help it—I already missed the taste of your cock.”

You shake your head and laughed a little, her words making you feel butterflies as the feeling are mutual, but you needed to really start the day in an acceptable fashion and can’t stay all day fucking each other’s brains out. 

“You know what, Yeji? Let’s actually get some real breakfast.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” She stands up, and away from the bed as you follow, raising your shorts up as the both of you get yourselves ready for another day, sun greeting you out as it shines once you open the window.

You never thought this would be such a riled-up start, yet you won’t complain if it’s the Hwang Yeji that greets you, the first thing your eyes would see.

---

It was surely such an exhilarating way to kick off your day, commencing her with the sloppiest morning blowjob (maybe minus the morning, it’s actually the sloppiest she’s ever been, and even your whole life) and a delectable breakfast, and it’s worth remembering as she earned her place. Hence the invigorating and promising fragments of an experience meet the inevitable obstacles, your own endeavors and your mind going in circles around it and it’s time to kill the cat for that curiosity, as they say.

You just end up on her balcony, frantically uncomfortable about the fact that she’s still not texting you—you’d say you overthink too much, but it’s a natural state of mind when it comes to being cognizant.

“Come on, come on—pick up the damn phone…” You let out breaths of impatience, tapping your foot as the constant ringing of the phone in your ear puts you in an anxious situation.

You can’t possibly wait for more hours until it’s the afternoon or whenever the sun sets because of anticipation and desperation. You walk around in circles around Yeji’s balcony as the constant ringing still lingers onto your eardrums and eventually, it ends up not in your favor.

“Why won’t she just answer my goddamn call—”

“Hey!” Yeji gleefully calls you behind the sliding door, slightly ajar as she seems worried with your agitated demeanor. “You should probably just give up on who you’re calling to—it’s been like seven minutes?”

“Yeji, this one is important.” Your voice is stern and composed but it wouldn’t break her thoughts of interrupting you.

“More important than me?” You heard her loud and clear, merely a meter away from her and that tone just exudes the spell you can’t quite fight: submission and breaking your temptation.

As much as it hurts to say that both sides are as important as it is, your soft side tends to prevail, sugarcoating a response that wouldn’t hurt her. “Both are, Yeji but like, now is not the ti—”

She closes the door gently, then inches closer towards you with a reassuring stare and caresses onto your shoulder “Come on—don’t stress yourself that much…” She then motioned herself onto your back as your eyes followed her movements, gazed fixated onto hers as her mouth inches near to your earlobe, whispering words of abstaining yourself to further tension. “Because you know what can happen if you are overdoing yourself too much and it won’t be great for you.”

She has a valid point and you’re in this state of recollection with her words of wisdom. Her slight massages on your back with her hands eases up the built-up pressure you’ve had since minutes ago and with a quick conclusion, you know she is right. “Yeah, hah… you’re right—I’m just—I just want to know what’s up with her.”

“Her?” Yeji’s seductiveness quickly fades from a piqued expression, curious about who you are calling and who she is. “Who’s her? Is it your girlfriend? Oh fuck—I’m sor—”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” You stop Yeji with your reassuring tone, gesturing to calm her down and there’s nothing to worry about. Such a roller coaster of events unshackled within seconds and with the tables being turned, you can’t help but feel to let off a little chuckle, and it’s even ignited with Yeji’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face of hers. “It’s really hard to explain, y’know? But just don’t worry that much about her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay… Also—” She nods before that, then Yeji’s countenance shifted onto an evident curiosity, feeling that her nerves are connecting the dots too well. “Was she the girl I saw you with at the bar yesterday?”

You almost forgot that you would totally steal glances with her at that time, luckily all being unnoticed by Chaewon (if she even cared if you caught glances with her coquette nature yesterday). You’re impressed with her adaptability to assume things that’s almost right, and there’s nothing to lie about with the given skill of hers.

“Yeah, she’s her. It’s nothing much though—we’re literally just friends.” It's a double-edged lie that you’d live with anyday, mostly on these times without a favorable conclusion to enclose onto a selected status. Like you said, her role in your life is pretty complicated in ways you can’t even explain and you won’t make yourself a burden to dissect every detail to Yeji.

Even if you had the chance, you won’t really bother to.

You dismissed the current topic and just continued to admire her pulchritude. Your stare could melt her as she smiles with a genuine lace of joy, then kissing the nape of your neck as she opens up about an experience. “Yeah, okay—I’m sorry though ‘cause like, you’re too hot to the point that I can’t resist you.”

Looking over your shoulder, her siren eyes probably does wonders over you and with that stare, you just can’t help but do the same. “The feelings are mutual, Yeji.”

You then face her and cupped her cheeks, initiating a torrid kiss that was fueling your desires over her, and they won once again. She quickly reciprocates and deepened the kiss, feeling such entanglement that yearns for need and gives out such pleasure. Your hands involuntarily seeks its way onto her waist, and her hands onto the back of your head, feeling the tension growing before pulling out of her embrace, breaking the trance which earns a definite whine escaping her lips. 

“Why’d you pull out?”

“Sorry, Yeji—” As much as it hurts to stop, you would want to as there are more endeavors important than this, and you’ll hope she understands it. “—I’ll meet someone this afternoon and I gotta go home and get myself ready.”

Yeji lets out a sigh, her hot breath brushing on your nostrils as she meets you eyes one more time, glowing with sincerity and understanding about the possible situation. “I don’t need to bother you for more time then…” 

You smile, relieved she won’t bear much of a nuisance to make you expound your reasonings. “Sorry again, Yeji—I’ll call you whenever all of this is over.”

Yeji paints a sly smile, the latter sending her limbics into delight and anticipation, knowing that you’ll be connected with hers as soon as you can. “Yeah, sure—just don’t stress that much, hm?”

It’s perplexing with such a thoughtful development over the span of hours since you met her, maybe of the reasons rewarding enough to be cherished or the intimate inkling deepening within the second. You fix your jacket, nodding reassuringly as you waved goodbye and mouthing the words See you soon before you close the sliding door.

As you were leaving her room and out of her place, you can’t help but think of what you’ve done with her yesterday and earlier this morning. With an emotion unparalleled from ever before, you let out little laughs and words of still and evident bewilderment. 

“She’s insatiable, it’s crazy.”

---

Thankfully, there wasn’t anything distracting you while driving your way home, not even the fact of a mental battle on keeping both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road while a slobbering mess is between your legs (this was supposed to happen and this was just a delusional imaginative outcome, but to your defense, you weren’t ready for such a risk costing more than what you could fathom).

Preparing yourself for what’s bound to come, you take some time to reflect on what you’ve been into—a mess worth indulging in, barely able to clean it up since the second it was ruined. As you were spraying that strong-scented perfume up the collar of your polo, your attention was diverted onto the buzz of your phone which to no surprise, is her.

kim_chaewon at 1:57 - “Meet me at the hotel where I told you to go and say the room number I told you to go, under my name, to the concierge. 4 PM, sharp and don’t you dare be late.”

Glad you have enough time for preparation but deep inside, you’re a bit conflicted on why she would send such vague details and tell them late. Well, it’s maybe of the twists and games she loves to play against you, and you won’t be surprised if she does call you and say something stupid—

“Ah shit—” Chaewon is calling you, and you knew this was going to be part of a well-written plan of hers. You know how things can boil down into the toxic pit of selfishness and need, and you can’t quite escape her leash because of you being the puppet under her string and it’s incredibly unhealthy—you want her, no, you fucking like her and her attitude wouldn’t stop you from proving her why you’re worth something more than what she’s used to see.

“You better stop calling on times like that—you know I’m still on my beauty slumber, tch.” Chaewon’s irk laced within her voice through the phone is evident and it was nothing less than expected. You gulp nervously as she lets her temper out within the phone and knowing it’s becoming too annoying, you wouldn’t sip your mouth and let her be as commanding as she is.

“Chaewon, I just wanted to ask you about it!” You raise your voice, fed up as Chaewon falls silent. You count to three, then swallow, feeling the instant regret with what you’ve done. “God, I’m sorry but you can’t keep me hanging on a thread like that.”

“What are you even trying to prove? I’ve already texted you about it, didn’t I?” It is true, but you’re trying to point out things that will probably develop her uphill and knowing her skull is as hard as titanium, your words aren’t able to penetrate through her brain to register and listen. 

You can’t fathom why you liked her in the first place, feelings probably mutual as it was deemed to be such a wicked relationship that’s even confusing. She wasn’t yours, yet but it’s only a matter of time before a verdict comes up, marking Chaewon as your territory and yours only. The roads you’re tackling stresses you out, considering how you grew something with Yeji and how divergent these are, making you suffer yet your mind yearns for both of them, can’t quite compute and let go of the other.

You are the problem, but they’re a drug you can’t quite stop to take.

You fall silent and Chaewon asserts her dominative approach with your lack of response. “See? You should trust me sometimes; I wouldn’t fail you as much as you don’t fail me. See ya’ later, I’ll even make myself appear prettier than what you think…” 

The latter is true—even if she doesn’t say so, her beauty is off the charts, alluring at its best—and somewhat, the former should be reconsidered for a while. Even with an unreadable mind that Chaewon possesses, it’s natural to be skeptical with her ways of controlling you (somewhat) but sometimes, you have to think optimistically and trust her. You’re just gaslighting yourself into thinking that she’s maybe right in every way, even if it means to dive you into a risk.

You faintly say your goodbyes as she hangs up immediately, letting out a breath as you’re punishing yourself for such a minimal act of regret. “Well, I shouldn’t have done that but this should be fine…”

As you should, it’s not a big deal on her end possibly and she’s not that kind of an immature, selfish woman that would take your little outbursts like something as a threat.

---

The staggering heights of the buildings around made such a metropolitan experience complete, and it’s even elevated with the luxurious ambiance the hotel exudes as you went inside it, the lobby doing wonders to enthrall its guests. 

You wouldn’t really waste time being in awe with the glamorous chandelier or the exquisite art the tiles have because you have a goal in mind: meet her at the designated time, not a second off or sooner. 

You roll off your sleeve, fixing yourself by a little as you advance towards the front desk, approaching the concierge as he meets you with a smile in which you subtly appreciate.

“Hello, excuse me—yeah. Room 018, for Ms. Kim Chae-won?”

His eyes widened, even enthusiastic as he was more eager to help you as soon as he heard the number of the room. “Oh yes sir, a presidential suite? I’ll just check the room again for further security and… may I get your name?”

You then say your name as you wait patiently, the concierge tapping onto the screen multiple times after he informs you that you’re now able to access the room. 

“And you’re set, sir! Here’s the card and that will be on the 40th floor.”You then thank him as he gestures a bow, uttering the words Enjoy, sir as you take the elevator hurriedly, tapping the buttons and getting in it as soon as they open.

You’re not going to sugarcoat it—you’re nervous. Feeling it onto an extent underlying anticipation more than the deterioration of confidence. It was a natural instinct when discovering new heights, and you reassure yourself with that given fact within the second you’re a floor higher. It was quick, less than a minute since there wasn’t a stop and you could only sigh as the elevator dings and opens.

You traverse down the corridor as the signs help in which way the rooms are. Left then right, walk a couple of steps and there meets the lair of the vixen—the room where anything could possibly happen, every achievable outcome that could possibly come into life.

You knock at the door, signaling your presence as you unlock the door with the card the concierge gave you, and there she is, at the other end, in all black of an outfit, facing opposite from you as the dark bob accentuates elegance and sophistication, before spinning her chair and welcoming you. 

Chaewon looks at the time on her phone, raising an eyebrow as she leisurely nodded. “Not too bad for you, hm? Take a seat, please.”

You then walked your way inside, aiming to sit on the couch as soon as she glared with a subtle gesture of her head, uttering something, “No, sit here—beside me.” Her index finger points onto the tall stool at the center table besides hers and you advance towards it, then facing her, your eyes scanning every inch of her impeccable features.

This kind of wardrobe is new to your eyes, and it’s a sight to see a refreshing set of fashion that was clearly unfamiliar at most times—you’d say she’ll almost let a skin on her exposed whenever she dresses up and will almost make herself look hotter than hell. You’re always vocal when complimenting her and you wouldn’t impede such flowery words from spilling out of your mouth. “God, Chaewon, this fit looks great on you—it truly is.”

She smiles with your words, you eyes telling the truth as she stares at them and of course, this is the best way to start the day with her. “Of course I do—” She proceeds to make a move, standing up, drawing herself closer to you as her eyes dart towards your chest and onto your eyes, letting you know how much she appreciates you being here even though it’s barely vocalized. “You look great too, honestly.” 

Chaewon’s close—dangerously close, inches away as you drown onto those alluring eyes of hers, getting lost into the dark abyss it holds and your next move wasn’t surprising to say the least: your hands making its way towards the hem of her blazer, and onto her slender, tight waist as her hands stop you, lips parted as she shook her head lightly, enough to bring you the message. “Well, that’s reserved for later—”

“How so? We’re already here—”

She interrupts you with an audible shh, smirking enticingly as her disposition is clearly ambiguous, and you can’t quite tell where she’ll indulge you. “You’re still up to my test—we’re still not done and you’ll have your reward when you’ve proven yourself.”

“Prove myself? Aren’t those enough of a statement?” You’re in little disbelief, shaking your head as you feel your efforts yesterday weren't enough and she knows it. 

Speaking of that, you should probably ask her about what you’ve done yesterday, assuming she might have eyes on you secretly that you weren’t aware of. You’re probably deluded to think about how she could do that to you but yet again, Chaewon’s that kind of girl.

Possibly set aside these thoughts and snap yourself into reality with her words. “I’ll just say it again—we’re still not done, am I right?”

You sigh, embracing defeat as her point is valid and true, and you won’t break the rules nor a promise between both parties. “You’re right, Chaewon, okay?”

“Of course I am.” Hubristically speaking, she knows she is right, even if you admit her confidence was doing the talking. She then distances herself from you, seating on her stool, picking some grapes for her plate as she munches on them, then inviting you to join her. “Help yourself here; grapes, juices, water or some biscuits—anything that can treat your hunger.”

You’re in little disbelief and hypocrisy, unsure on what she’s implying “What? I’m not that hungr—”

“Hey—” Chaewon shows a discontented demeanor, knowing lying through your teeth wouldn’t help you nor defend anything. “—if your stomach ain’t yearning, screaming for it to be fed then I wouldn’t say that otherwise.”

She draws the plate of grapes towards you with her hands, raising an eyebrow, signaling you to get some and help yourself. You wouldn't say another no because she knows you’ll be lying again, so you picked a couple and tossed one in your mouth, feeling the sour and sugary essence of the fruit revitalizing you, little by little.

“You’ll need energy for later—” Chaewon says, as she takes a sip from her glass full of some blueberry juice, looking at you with a seductive intent. “—and this—this will be a long day, for both of us.”

You’re clearly in the mood to set up a fire between the both of you, imagining the possible futures within both your accords—mostly Chaewon’s, but you won’t be bothered by that. “For now, you gotta help me shop for a—”

“Wait, Chaewon—” With all the introductory endeavors set for the both of you, you interrupt her with simple words that have been ringing in your brain since yesterday. “—may I ask you a question?”

Chaewon scoffs a breath, eyes interested with what you’re going to ask her. “Go on.”

“According to the text yesterday, how did you know?” It was straightforward, a little vague but she got what you’re asking her. It’s flummoxing knowing how she can act like a prophet but in reality, it wasn’t, and you’d like to know the reason behind such an act.

“Ahh—that?” She sips again, exhaling a fresh, fruity breath as her tone is more vibrant but still laced with her usual elegance. “Well, it’s a simple trick up my sleeve and I know you wouldn’t find suspicion through it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows by a little, a little confused on what she’s implying but you thought of a concept. “Did you just wait for me outside? What does this me—”

“Well, here’s the thing: I pretend to leave the bar and you didn't even notice if my figure was behind the door as soon as your eyes darted for someone. I watched from a distance, disguising myself against the flickering lights the stage provides and the dimness of the surroundings—” Chaewon leans into you, closer as your lips are inches against your ear. “—and I watched the both of you.” And then after that voice of her tickling you slightly, sending shivers down your spine, she leans onto her stool, but not enough for her to fall—just balanced. 

“That’s all? Could never know you can be such a voyeur—”

“Not really and yes, I like watching people go all out while I just sit there and let them unveil their true nature. Well—” Chaewon clears her throat, fixing her blazer and she isn’t done, her doe eyes hypnotizing you, making you listen under her dulcet voice. “—I saw the way you talked to her, those subtle glances and fun between your words was enough to make a conclusion—you passed the test. As soon as the both of you got up to your seats, went up to the balcony with god knowing what you'll do to her—oh…” She gets up again from her seat, facing you closer with her head slightly raised and there her breath tingling against your lips, brushing against your nose. “I know exactly what you would be up to. I wouldn’t waste my precious time watching you even from afar and let yourself be redeemed with what you can do.”

Your eyes are just fixated towards her, earning a little gulp from your throat due to her intimidating demeanor. “You’ve impressed me ever so slightly… And let me ask a question in return.”

Still inches away from her, you would just embrace what she’ll ask as you’re not in any authority to decline what her lips may escape. “What is it?”

“Did you fuck her?”

A question enough to stun you, reek fear within your skin as you can’t decipher her—it’s your kryptonite: her nuanced emotions unable to make your wonders be applied in certain situations. Was this still part of a test? Did she read your brain easily to come up with an assumption too right? It is an aligned possibility, these questions will be answered by her, and it’s for you to embrace it.

“Fuck… her? Why would you think I f—”

“I asked you a question—” Chaewon sips another desirable amount of that liquid, before smashing the glass a little too hard on the marbled table that made you feel a little nervous. “—didn’t I?”

Yes. Chaewon asked a question and all you need to do is answer it, plain and simple. You can’t dodge the mere thought of detouring the topic or even at least acting oblivious—the little shivers on your bottom lip says otherwise, and the defensiveness of your tone doesn't help with your persuasion. “But h-how are you even sur—”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell me anything anymore and don’t worry—” Chaewon’s hands caresses your waist, feeling a little tingle up onto your groin as her touch enables you into a reassuring plane, fending off the stress out of your body as the latter words falls right onto your ears. “—I won’t even be mad if you did it because I know you did and god, she’s pretty and sexy. Sometimes, you gotta be studied, y’know?”

Chaewon is steps ahead of you, as lying was too obvious to be kept shackled. You’re still unsure, feeling a little tick in your brain saying that she’s maybe just playing games with you and her emotions aren’t as sincere as you thought it would be as soon as she said those words.

“You’re not mad? Or anything?”

Chaewon sighs, a stoic expression paints her face as you find her deceiving and confusing. “So you admit that you fucked her, hm?”

“I didn’t say that I—” Chaewon’s fed up with your lies and she had to do something if she wanted to make a word for herself. Shutting you up with her hand, your eyes widen as you try to writhe, but you know that’s putting a nail to your coffin, and just being immobilized is the way to brush this off. Her disappointed and infuriated stare towards you earns another struggling gulp from you, which she took it down as a sign of asserting her dominance. 

“Another lie, I’ll make you see who the fuck I am.” It was churlish and candid, and you just nod in response, fearful that another volcano may spew out its anger. She smirks in total control, as she releases her hand onto your mouth and impressively, she returns onto her intimidatingly stoic and sophisticated demeanor, then continuing what you interrupted earlier. “Shall we explore and shop, hm? I’ll even treat you if you want…”

Of course, all you can do is nod and utter, “How could I resist that?” in which she likes and it’s genuine with her smile.

She’s right in every way—this day would be long for the both of you and you’re ready for what's about to come.

---

Expensive bags, new shoes, fashionable clothes, exquisite dinners and kilometer-long walks around the malls could never go wrong and all so right. It was a time well-spent between the both of you as it’s been a while since you’ve had some wholesome moments with her, even just in the slightest bits of it. 

This was just the tip of the iceberg because she has more in store for you, and a great way to end the night is in another place where it concludes down into madness, and it’s just the best of both worlds. 

“Really? In another club, Chaewon? We’ve been onto something like this yesterday…” You’re a bit disappointed it will all end up on this note, probably walking out with a drunk-dazed state and the absolute predicament: you having to carry Chaewon out because of such a drunken state you can’t tell.

Let’s just hope this thing of hers never meets that fate.

“Hey! It’s pretty great here honestly—I heard their snacks are top-tier, so I wanted to try it and let me tell you, yesterday was a bar, not that.” Chaewon corrects you and persuades you with all her might and you, a puppet, can merely do anything to reject her advances and honestly, she’s maybe up to something you can’t quite tell. 

“Same thing, Chaewon—”

“Hey it’s not! Also—” Chaewon tiptoes a little, brushing her lips oh-so close onto your earlobes as her breath whispers, “—I wanted to try something, in correlation to my final verdict.”

Well, if this is what it takes to prove yourself, then maybe you just need to embrace it.just need to ride with her highs.

“Let’s get in—I already reserved a seat for us both.” You then follow Chaewon, showing an actual identification card to the bouncer and traversing towards the dim hallway where the fun begins, and it’s already lingering within your eardrums with the ebullient sounds of such music. 

You anticipate with what she has in store, in full trust under her own accord as here it goes, an adventure of a lifetime.

---

You wouldn’t say an adventure, moreso, a memory but this one is audacious, risky and adventurous. Chaewon’s advancements towards elevating an experience is merely a branch in boredom, but rather, a connection towards amusement—her brain somewhat makes up such exhilarating events to be experienced, most likely in ways unorthodox to others.

The common noise didn’t get your sense preoccupied, taking onto the mouthwatering cheese-flavored nachos, crushing two pieces of it and licking your fingers due to its flavorful taste, then averting your eyes towards Chaewon as she calls your name. “What is it this time?”

“Enjoying the food, hm?”

“You know, Chaewon?” You fix your seat as the boisterous music distracts you slightly, a little bothered but that doesn’t faze the fact that she’s heard things right. “You’re right as I think about it—the food here is delicious. You seem to be enjoying your drink a lot, huh?”

Chaewon chuckles a little as she covers her mouth, flipping her hair as her features astound you, elegant even with her subtle actions. “Of course, a tangy and sweet cocktail could always go right—no doubts.” She then takes a hurried sip, the concoction hitting just right as she feels refreshed and satisfied. As the both of you are comfortable eating, a thought in your brain ignites, a shard from the earlier remarks that was left unattended until this very second.

“You said you wanted to try something, right, Chaewon?”

Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parted as she places down the glass down the table, and piques her total attention. “Oh well, about that…” She places down her purse on the table, crossing her legs as she shifts onto her smug behavior, confidence seeping out in every breath she exhales. “We gotta take this somewhere else—somewhere no one can see us.”

Those words alone were a fragment of utter lust and anticipation and you can’t miss that out. Her aphrodisiac tone was enough to invite, moreso her gestures that concluded the start of an act. 

You smile, a slight one laced with expectations defying heights. “Lead the way then and I’ll show you something too.”

You’ll let her but you’d like to finish anything first so you’ll have enough energy left in the tank, if it goes the other way you’ll expect.

---

It’s probably the climax of the music that was faint on both your ears, the room sequestering the background noise enough to avert your attention towards her. You take a moment to scrutinize her features, every inch a candy to your own liking.

Your hands finally ran onto her waist, caressing it a little as you eye on her with such admiration. “This outfit is just too good for you, Chaewon.”

Chaewon chuckles, and the both of you meet eyes as she replies with your piece of a broken eulogy. “You’ve said it for like ten times—you really liked it, huh?”

You shook your head, letting her know there’s more for her to be aware of. “No, Chaewon—I fucking loved it—everything—I won’t shut up about this.”

“But you can make me.” Her breath shudders once you hold your other hand onto the hem of her pants, feeling the curve of her butt inviting you to fondle it deeper but you resist, just how she wanted for now. 

“I’ve always wanted to say this for a long time now and for your final test…” Your eyes scintillate in lust and excitement, feeling her words will line up to the thoughts you’re thinking. “Break me.”

Break her. 

Seven letters, two words, numerous implications that can underlie an ambiguous approach that could always defy expectations. Here’s the thoughts you managed to come up with: either she wants you to break her in half (metaphorically) with your cock or break her usual classy, sophisticated demeanor.

Both can be applied, and it’s up to your own accord since you know you’re in control right now, Chaewon slowly submitting to you.

And it wasn’t even a second before she couldn't resist herself—you’d just feel her swollen lips meeting yours, entangling into such fervor no one can match. The taste of her lips is succulent and you're addicted to it—the apple-flavored does wonders, but it’s mostly the fact about the delightful chemicals messing up with your brain, optimistic and yearning for more.

Her arms rest on your shoulders, as yours caresses her waist, feeling every inch of her porcelain skin and how smooth it is everytime you caress it. It was a little platonic at first, but when you reciprocated deeply, you know there’s more than that and she knows it.

It hurts, but she needs to pull out to catch her breath and to clear her headspace because this wasn’t part of her plan—it was evident she got carried away, her actions tell those otherwise.

“Why the fuck do you always kiss me so good?”

You laugh, an evident hubris on your face that she found slightly annoying but there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe I just can’t help it that I’m kissing the Kim Chaewon. ”

A name worth remembering, and you absolutely will as she’s a remarkable and paramount part of your life now. 

“Shut up—can’t fucking wait to feel you inside me—” She’s impatient, vocally frustrated as you’re not fulfilling her desires. You always know how she always gets what she wants, having authority to make everyone her puppet but this time, the tables will be turned in your favor and you’d be smiling standing on your own ivory tower. “—what are you waiting for?”

“Patience, Chaewon—patience…”

“The hell do you mean patience—ow!” A harsh spank brings sting onto her, enough for her to feel and for anyone to hear but it’s muffled thanks to the clothing of her pants that you’re dying to undress. “Look at you—spanking me hard now, huh?”

“Yes.” You’re imperative and stern, gaining authority over her slowly as she’s starting to snap herself to reality. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so because I know you like this.”

You know she does, even loving it as it starts with her biting her lower lip with such a slap was enough for a conclusion.

“God, I always liked this, y’know?”

“Getting handled in a restroom?” 

“Not exactly that—” She inches closer towards you again, looking from left to right as her actions draws attention for you to be all ears. “—it’s mostly the fun of a risk—risking to be caught while I get pounded into oblivion.”

You sigh, a sinister smile curling your lips as this fetish of hers is somewhat amusing, to say the least. “You wouldn’t mind getting caught? Let the world know how much of a slut you can be?”

Here’s the thing: you’re trying to prove a point here, risking a reputation for the people who don't know you is somewhat important in a way, knowing how privacy can still be important so you’re skeptical of the repercussions of her own lustful nature.

“Don’t worry—” She tilts her head slightly, flashing a genuine countenance which reassures you slightly even with your venomous words that unleashed your other corrupted side. “—all of these fall down into a clandestine ending—just the both of us, nobody else, just us.”

Well, you’re pliant under her spell and you’d like to make her taste with your own medicine yet with all of these, you’re easily persuaded by her. There’s no other way to start such a spectacular act with her words of a green light. “At least getting your cock wet would do such a wonderful thing, won’t it?”

You hitch a breath, agreeing on what she’s about to show as you trust her expertise. “Of course, now do your wonders, Chaewon.”

She pauses, raising an eyebrow as she is probably hesitant with your profounded commanding nature. Of course she’s not used to this, but you’ll love to make a blissful introduction that lets you know that you’re deserving. 

“At least undress yourself for m—ow, ahh, what was that?” It wasn’t a spank this time, rather an aggressive grab onto her wrists, which caught her off-guard. She didn’t retaliate nor glare at you and it was surprising, since her expressions were far from what you expected: showing a faux class, eyes glistening in lust and fading of her so-called sophisticated demeanor. 

“You do it, Chaewon, but not here…” You point to the vacant bathroom stall for further privacy, and as much as she doesn’t care about it, you wouldn’t agree to her terms and had no choice but to follow your own accord.

She looks onto her shoulder, smirking as she knows where this can end. “Want it tight and confined, huh?”

“Hah—of course—” It's probably your guilty pleasure, a thing that should be addressed more often with her as it has its own advantage in favor of you, and you’ll enlighten her about it. “—so it won’t be much of an effort to handle you.”

Chaewon’s apparent shock at your shift of attitude impresses her, and she can’t wait to see what you can show her. “Oho—then let's get started.”

---

It’s rightfully confined, still enough for the both of you to move and her dexterous hands never fails you, undressing the clothing hastily and onto the cold floor. As her hands traverse its way onto your boxers, she asks for a favor in which you find bold considering the given circumstances. “Please hold my purse—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No—you find a way.” She looks up, annoyed with your own authority and the tone that’s laced with it—like you said, you'll get her used to her own doing, her own medicine. She reaches down to the floor to place her purse, only for her wrist to get caught up at the last second, informing her own what she should follow. “You’ll warm up my cock while holding that, is it clear?”

She rolls her eyes, finally grasping the situation as you get up off her nerves yet you didn’t care, not when she wanted that beast inside you for god knows how long. “Fine, whatever you want—yes…”

With only a single defense ready to be worn out, you fix your posture and prepare yourself for the inevitable. The tent only grew larger as she caresses it with care, dainty fingers tracing the outline as you voice out your frustration immediately. “Fucking undress me, Chaewon.”

It’s probably the first she’s been treated like this and this wouldn’t be the last—you’ll let her know how you work your expertise, wonders in the highest of ceilings. 

She complies, nodding as her hands yanks your boxers off and god, the sight—it’s possibly imprinted in her brain even though the mental image of your length is deeply buried within the depths of her mind. 

You moan, the swollen head meeting the cool air permeating in every corner as her hands made your breath shudder in response. “Now suck it.”

You have the vaguest of clues to open up a reliable reasoning—how is she this obedient under your accord when her touch falls you weak on your knees? It’s contradictory and it’s wonderful, a sight worth remembering as your spell falls effective at her end, parting her lips onto your leaking head that would matter at any given moment.

It’s agonizing, torturous and whatever-the-fuck of an abundance of euphemisms you can come up with and it’s gratifying, up your deepest nerves. Her tongue darts and swirls around the mushroom tip, earning moans that you won’t bother shackling and with a given encouragement, she dives deeper as her pace is more evident. She’s talented and gifted, like what she always said between a sexual tension and she doesn’t lie—her lips enough can make a statement, what more about the set of lips—

That’s stored for later but for now, you need to savor the moment until it lasts.

A talented mouth paired with a dancing tongue is almost lethal, making you unable to think straight as she’s way ahead of your league—possibly in a good way, and you’d like to adapt with her skillful oral intermission. 

Yeji and Chaewon could rival each other in terms of technique and pacing, and clearly, Chaewon’s sets of skills was far from the rest and it doesn’t help that she’s taking you deeper, spit covering all over your length as she pulls out, feeling the hint of repugnance that she most likely despises.

“God—fuck, it’s so messy—” Her hurried slurps marks her apparent modesty even in the engagement of such a sinful act and you didn’t care about it—as selfish as you sound, the pleasure your experience should come out in priority. “—you’re ruining my lipstick mar—gwah!”

It wasn’t a struggle fulfilling your desires, not when she’s talking as your cockhead rests between the muscle of her tongue—she gags a little with your profound harshness as she’s evidently caught off-guard with it. She glares and you don't care (again), not when she ups the ante, pace driven with unbridled lust and little-to-no care about the mess she makes.

“What a fucking mouth you have, Chae—” Grunts, moans and subsequent groans leaves your lips as the pace was just right, swirling her tongue as she thrusts herself deeper. The inevitable drool seeping out of her mouth and it dripping onto her pants is the cherry on top—her mouth is just heavenly and perfectly soiled, just how you liked it.

This wasn’t part of the show, on how messy she is—no, this was a pleasurable accident, clearly written thanks to your own accord. She locked her eyes on you, hollowing her cheeks, bobbing frantically and god, the sight is immaculately sinful as every second that passes feels surreal. 

Possibly, you’re thinking selfishly right now and unable to register some sort of concern and why would you be? This is what she wanted anyways, and you won’t stop her until she’s an indistinguishable, sullied mess of a woman between your legs.

She grips your thigh harshly with her right hand, a leverage as she impale her throat with more of you throbbing length. She’s hungry and slobbering over it and the sight was enough for you to meet an unparalleled demise which you would love to happen in the latter stages. Her technique sets up the standard of a spectacular blowjob and you would reckon she’s the best of them all—she could totally rival Yeji, and your judgment couldn’t be reliable since it’s too biased with her mouth hugging your cock tightly.

She takes you in, whole, nose buried onto your abdomen as gags are apparent and to her own experience, she managed to tame it as she displayed her talent once more. Tears flow down her cheek with her own actions, ruining the makeup she probably spent an hour on but it didn’t matter because it’s gradually turning you on.

“God—f-fuck, that’s just great there, Chaewon.” Her patterns of pleasuring you are somewhat predictable and audacious, clearly deprived of your taste as she alternates from taking you all in and her oral expertise.

All great things must come to an inevitable end, despite how successful it became and you can feel it within you.

Chaewon releases her mouth out of your succulent cock, panting as her face is flushed red, the vicinity of her mouth a seeping mess that compliments her pretty visage. “Fuck—I can’t get enough of your cock, y’know that?” Of course it’s rhetorical as she repeatedly slurps on your shaft, standing up to the words she spilled. 

As much as it hurts to put an end to this show of hers, it would be a great decision as you’re dying to live up to the main climax of events that would be surely worth both of your time.

Well, you guess she likes to dance while she party, but this would be the last dance for the day, for now.

“Chaewon…” You call out her name, falling deaf on her ears as the music of her slurps and slobbering outpowers it. You’d like to make her hear the message loud and coherently, clearing your throat and raising your voice. “Chaewon!”

Her pace gradually slows down, hindered with your voice as she pulls out and meets eyes with you again, back to her unbothered demeanor even though it’s all sullied with her spit and her makeup due to the tears she made. “Dying to fuck me, hm?”

“Get up.” Not even acknowledging her question, you’re straightforward with it, your words enough to build up an answer because she made you feel this way. “Hands against the wall, bend over and don't do anything stupid.”

She’s ready to comply even though there’s doubt permeating all over her—she hates being commanded yet this is her guilty pleasure and you’re glad being on the front row of such a rare find. Rhapsodies of anticipation glisten on her eyes as soon as you meet them into a distant contact, and you just know how much she’s liking this. You detest the confined spaces, the limited movement impossible to experiment on things but this an exhilarating challenge and you can’t wait to start it.

“That should be my line—ow!” Her voluptuous butt gets another spank in which she deeply appreciates despite her glare towards you as she looks back, onto her shoulder. You drool with a magnificent sight of her backside accentuated thanks to the tight, black pants she wore, caressing each side of each which earned a moan coming out of Chaewon’s mouth.

“Strip it out, p-please.” She’s pleading now, desperate for your touch and clearly breaking that class that’s in her. There’s no class in such a sinful circumstance, and Chaewon knows it well, not giving any fuck is she got to be the messiest she’s ever been.

You tease her, darting your fingers slowly to the edge of her ass, tugging the clothing that made her elicit a small whimper, and then teasing your index finger near her nether region. The heat it emanates makes your cock throb, imagining how spoiled she’s been under her garments.

She’s utterly frustrated, gritting her teeth and losing her patience by the second. “What the fuck are you doing—ow!”

“I’m in control here, Chaewon—” You lean on her after another spank, letting her know that all she needs to do is obey as she’s powerless against your own control. “—and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Her breath quivers, a sigh right after as she’s enlightened enough to shut herself from complaints for the time being. “Okay, j-just fucking strip me please—god, please—ow!”

Another one, striking her twice as hard within your own volition—a choice to punish her repeated protests. She whimpers with your roughness, feeding pleasure through the pain and as much as you don’t want to agree with her, you need to have a sight of those delectable ass and thighs of hers that’s been dying to be touched by you (possibly).

Finding the zipper of her pants, she yelps with your cold touch meeting her skin and as much as she wants to help you, she rests her hands completely onto the wall because there’s nothing that she can do but to embrace the unstoppable force. 

You could only think of the numerous complains she has on her mind right now, and you’re going to fuck it out of her—you live up to a promise, marking your words.

Finally, you peel the clothing off, smoothly undressing it and down to her ankles as you mentally drool over the meal that’s served in front of you. 

Your fingers course its way onto her radiating heat, earning an inviting moan as she’s too easy to read now. “Fucking wet, huh? I knew you’d always be like this around me.”

Chaewon struggles a little due to the pleasure streaming down within her but manages to articulate words with even the hint of elegance and vulgarity. “Who wouldn’t be this fucking wet if it weren’t for that big dick of yours, hm?”

You feed your ego—she’s right, factual as it's evident whenever she sees your promised treasure being savored by her.

You peel off that black-laced thong of hers as the sight of something unexpected surprises you: you could see a black-colored buttplug buried into her ass, the crystalized tip just hanging out nicely and this sight just made everything worse for the better.

You push down onto it, slightly earning a guttural moan from her as the amalgamation of pain and pleasure mix harmoniously, derived and taken wholeheartedly. “Feeling kinky, huh, Chaewon?”

“You k-know me—ahh, fuck, that’s great!” You continue teasing her with the plug, and the other doing an exquisite job between her folds which just puts her in a position of no-return. Clearly there’s no return in her current state: desperate, horny and weak, something that no one could ever take a sight of except you—maybe, only you can make her shift into this kind of façade and it’s outstanding.

“Just put it in, please—ow! Hmph…” Her body fully recoils with your strike, feeling more of that pain because of her exposed white, pristine skin that you’ll love to spoil. 

You would warn her but you know that she knows that she’s making these pleas and a disturbance to your authority intentionally to draw more spanks that just makes her folds wetter, and you can feel it with its constant squelches. 

You can’t tease her long enough because of your growing deprivation and frustration on your side, so with a single hindrance towards a climactic turn, you open your lips to mutter a consent. “You ready, Chaewon?”

“Of course I’m fucking ready for you—ahh—ah, god, oh!” The green light was said sooner, and you waste no time with the given opportunity. Albeit, this wasn’t more of an opportunity, but rather a necessity as this was planned beforehand and there’s no surprise with that.

No surprises but you just had it earlier—what a woman you are Kim Chaewon.

You plunge it deeper, almost up to the hilt as you draw back and slam again, the sounds resonate around the stall which nobody would probably care about. You grip her hips, stabilizing control as you continue your pace. “Chae—this pussy is something else.”

She moans in response, unable to think coherently yet she manages to still come up on an articulate response. “It shouldn’t be surprising a-anymore—you always love the way my walls hug around that big cock of yours.”

It’s mesmerizing to say the least—her words feel like a switch in you, flicking and activating something when the time comes and you love every second of it. You continue your pace, ramping up as time ticks and so is your harshness. You tend to alternate between spanks and thrusts, making her clench tightly around you and wince in pain, biting her lower lip to fight the sudden surge of emotions.

Her repeated cries and encouragement go well together to cook up a fuel that’s raging you to display your fullest potential—each thrust makes her yelp and moan uncontrollably, concerned with the fact that someone may come in and suspect such an activity inside the restroom. 

That didn’t stop you though, hammering her tight cunt like it’s your last and slapping those cheeks to ignite her masochistic side—you love the sight of a reddish mark imprinted on her skin, signifying your rapid harshness that will mark until the end of the day.

“Fuck me just like that—just—fucking—that, oh, oh!”

“Have I proven myself enough, Chaewon?” You need that answer out of her, let her know how worthy you are and how she can find nobody like you and possibly, you probably need to rail her harder than usual with a flabbergasting response. 

“You haven’t make me cum yet—it’s n-not even close yet—”

“Then why are you leaking like a faucet right now? Care to explain?” She can’t grasp the fact that she’s head over heels on you right now, and her denial is soon going to punish her for the time being, but for now, barrage of spanks will do, resulting in a rosy-pink hue imprinted on her porcelain skin that favors up to her own liking.

She continued to moan with your repetitive thrusts, aiming to fuck that egotistic and hypocrisy out of her and let her mind think of you and you only—maybe it’s working, ever so slightly with the constant submission she’s indulging in. You grasp her hips hard enough to probably bruise her, gripping on it in every thrust you do as she orchestrates such a symphony of moans that fuels you to go further.

You’re remarkable with your performance, she knows it and with her defenses crumbling down one by one, she would voice how much she loves this.

“Your—cock, fuck! So good!”

It wasn’t surprising, to say the least. She’s borderline screaming at this point as you hammer your length in her, up to hilt. The blazer probably doesn’t help with your concurrent thrusts, an annoying bit to your end and knowing how much better the sight is with most of her skin exposed, you pull her and command her to undress it and off on the floor, if she doesn't care.

“But w-why? This blazer is expe—”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” You slap those red cheeks of hers, earning a whimper and a slight writhe on her end, whining about your wants and you’re utterly selfish to see more. She finds your hostile behavior attractive because deep inside, Chaewon waited for this for so long that she never would click her interests. “Fucking remove it—I want to see more of you.”

Chaewon sighs between her moans, placing her purse down to the tank of the toilet as she struggles a little bit due to your recklessness. “F-Fuck—whatever you say…”

She’s swift with her movements, effortlessly removing the nuisance of clothing and off to the floor. You marvel with those sharp shoulders of hers as you latch onto the visible skin, peppering it with kisses as you hiss onto her ear, “This cunt of yours, Chaewon—is perfectly tight.”

She’ll never get tired of your addiction to her tightness, vocally or physically because it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You continue with your pace, slick covering your whole length and some dripping onto the floor until something unforeseen meets the both of you, and it’s surely a humiliating experience being exposed as one. 

The door creaks as the both of you hear multiple people laughing and singing along, and your reflexes work like a cat, quickly shutting up Chaewon’s mouth with your hands as you stop with your movements, burying your cock up to the hilt. 

Chaewon’s eyes are wide, flushed as your sudden movements make her retaliate a little and let out muffled moans. Her frame reels within your control and you didn’t like this, not when you’re in the edge of risky predicament—they are just a step closer to unveil how much of a slut Chaewon is and how you’re completely wrecking her, and you’d love to make it just exclusive between the both of you, behind closed doors.

Luckily, the lock says ‘occupied’ as the penultimate defense against a force worth intimidating. You grit your teeth, leaning in to her ear as you jeer, “You fucking slut—this is what I’m fucking afraid of—you better shut your mouth and not do anything stupid.”

Chaewon would want to fight you, complain or hurt you just to get what she wants but probably, the switch inside her flickers, only nodding as she struggles to breathe with your hand still covering her mouth. You move your hips leisurely as Chaewon lets out another set of muffled moans, feeling your length inside is enough to meet her own breaking point and you’d love to restrain her sinful sounds between the both of you. 

The ebullient sounds of the people inside the restroom sends your senses elevated, fully aware of how you can derive pleasure as silent as possible and you’re grateful that every noise reverberating around the vicinity of where you are at outpowers the sounds of sex happening inside this confined bathroom stall.

You’d never know such risk would make everything exhilarating.

“I may or may not like this place more now, Chaewon.” You whisper behind her ear with such unfathomable intent, ferocious about the situation as she desperately moves her hips in tandem with your slow thrusts, your hand handling her in place and making your hands as a makeshift cuff around her wrists.

You can feel her nostrils desperately blowing heat and air, aiming to get as much oxygen to release her emotions all throughout your manhandling. You wait for a bit as you stop, keeping your length buried inside her, observing the situation down to its last, minute details. They walked, laughed and seconds right after, the door creaked open and shut, releasing your grip on her mouth, Chaewon catching her breath as she gasped for air.

“Why—hah—why t-the fuck would you do that?” Chaewon angrily asks you, and you hold her in place with another slap on those reddened buttcheeks that just made her whine for the umpteenth time. 

“Because I want to? And also—” You moderately fuck her, then leaned onto her delectable back, licking the sweat off and peppering it with kisses as her walls grew wetter, knowing that she would be close. “—you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

Chaewon is silent but her moans, resonating as you didn’t like her inability to respond to you. “I asked you a question, didn’t I—”

“Yes! Yes, just—please, let me cum—”

You won’t stop her, not when you gradually thrusted deeper and hard, her velvety walls inviting you to do so as you can sense her nearing climax, giving everything you can within the last seconds and—

A blissful scream escapes her lips and god, this is a sight.

You pull out within the last second, only to see Chaewon spewing liquid after liquid, onto the floor, spoiling her pants a little and yours. It probably hit her like a train, feeling weaker as she pants in pleasure and sensitivity, her legs leaving her tight frame precarious yet your strength held her to stay still. 

“Gosh—you fucked me so well, huh?” Her pride still ensues even in an post-orgasmic state, and you wouldn’t break a sweat getting it off on her with your cock completely ravaging her again as she continues her words. “Aren’t you dying to cum, too?”

Of course you are, and it’s clearly mutual and rhetorical, but you’ll let her know your own gravitas. “Of course I am but I want it somewhere else.”

It was left behind, completely forgotten but not this time, as your fingers went onto her glistening buttplug, pushing it down as her legs shuddered in response. You thrust the given material deeper as she winces in pain and moans with pleasure. 

Chaewon knows the message well and it’s surely obvious—her little laugh of victory was enough of a statement, and you’ll live enough to fulfill that.

“Of course you always wanted to shove something deep in that hole—probably dreaming, drooling, manifesting—what words should I even u—ow, what the fuck?”

Her garrulous nature is a bug in your ear, clearly annoying yet you marvel with her ability to speak eloquently given the condition—maybe you haven’t fucked her enough to get her drunk with your cock and you can’t lie, she’s a tough woman to break.

As much as you don’t want her words to register through you, you can’t help but agree with her, reading you like a book and is aware of your eyes constantly eyeing her ass as you’re wrecking her folds into oblivion.

You carnally need her, primal instincts taking over you totally.

“Can you just shut your mouth for one second for fuck’s sake?” 

“No. Why would I—ow!” Another is what she gets as you point out something straightforward, clearly yearning for more of her.

Your hands caress that bent plane of her body and then her scrumptious ass, uttering words that are ultimately ravenous. “Do you have any lube? I’m dying to fuck this tight ass of yours right now.”

You’re feral and she knows it all too well. She opens up her purse, and you’re shocked to see a small bottle that contains what you think is pivotal for the latter stages. Chaewon looks over your shoulder, handing you the bottle as you grab it swiftly and immediately avert your eyes onto that plugged puckered hole desperate for such intimate action.

It would be cruel to hand such deprivation towards her just to tease her waiting butt, not when you’re corrupted mentally to do such things no one else would think of.

And you give in, wanting the awaited climax to be worth a memory imprinted in you and hers.

Chaewon wiggles her ass, inviting you to do the unspeakable as you tell her you’re going to remove that plug, easing her anal muscles and there goes the main event. She whines, needy and compliant for you and knowing the methods of yours is empirically derived onto experience (mostly just observing her), you immediately get onto work.

You squeeze a reasonable amount onto your fingers, lathering it onto your entire length, not leaving a single inch untouched and her waiting hole, clenching as soon as you inserted your fingers in and permeating those walls with aiding lubrication. 

Her moans are as pure as honey, sweet and tangy unlike her personality—a duality balancing her as a person and not going to lie, that dynamic is a guilty pleasure.

As you were about to insert your length, Chaewon uttered the words Stop as you ultimately did, piqued on what she had in mind and clearly in the mood to let this through.

“It’s getting uncomfortable here—want you to fuck me against the mirror—”

“Right outside this stall? What if someone barges in—” Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions. Of course, anything could be considered as a risk at this point as you feel your heart skip a beat, feeling this could be the worst and the best experience of your life—best of both worlds and utterly balanced, as someone may say.

“If you don’t want to, then I’ll call this as the end of a note.”

“Fuck no.” It was audacious coming from you as you don’t want this opportunity to be wasted, not when you’re just numerous steps ahead from your victory.

“Say it…” Chaewon’s voice is seductive and it’s making you pliant, akin to your nature earlier which made you think of a choice that’s obviously having an answer in her favor. “Say it to me…”

You lean and your words spit truth. “I’m going to fuck you against that mirror, gape this slutty, tight ass as I make you beg for more.”

Chaewon’s chuckle of triumph falls audible on your ears, and you’ll comply with her needs easily. “Good, now don’t get me waiting.”

---

It is euphoric to say the least, an ounce of energy equals surges of pleasure could never go wrong. This idea of hers can’t help just to aid you, making you even harder and your pace quickening as you pound her harsher against the sink. 

You’d watch her expressions of lust any day, alongside her frame getting railed with a vision on both sides.

“God—I—your cock! Oh fuck!” This is just one of the sentences she utters that isn’t anywhere near being coherent, and thankfully you can listen to her moans instead of her bratty blabberings that result into nothingness. She wants you to be rough onto her puckered hole and you’re entitled to do so, simply because you can easily control her frame right now with your arms in authority onto hers. 

You can sense her legs about to give out, enervated with your constant pounding that puts on a smile on your face, knowing your efforts are getting somewhere and she knows you’ll take advantage of this. The tightness of her snug hole provides is something remarkable—the way it hugs around your shaft hurts and wrings out pleasure, and it couldn’t be any better.

“So—fucking tight, Chae—god!”

“Stretch me out more, p-please—fuck me s-silly—ahh!” It revolves around those sets of words: continuous praises of her ass and your whole length inside it. You release your control of your arms onto her, now gripping her buttcheeks harshly enough for a leverage to opt for a better pace. You hiss as you withdraw and bury more, feeling that inevitable surge of gratification all over you as she aids you with her relaxation of her anal walls. 

You don't care if someone barges in, not even thinking to lock the door and if that does happen, let them have a seat for what will be the greatest performance you’re about to execute.

You can feel that it’s easing up and with her green light, it won’t be a difficult decision to wreak havoc onto that excruciatingly tight yet pleasurable asshole.

“God, please—fuck me until I can’t w-walk—oh shit—fuck!”

She’s a mess in distress, totally within the submergence of your astounding prowess as you bring out an onslaught of thrust, still wincing with her tightness and that didn’t stop you. She cries for you, arms almost giving out with how she grips the sink and with this state of hers, it’s a must to take this mental picture, her expressions shown onto the mirror as a cherry on top.

You throb persistently in every thrust you do and she can feel you getting near but there are words that strokes your ego, making you hubristically out of anyone’s league, matched with hers.

“Gosh—hah—hah, I—oh, l-love your cock so much—holy shit, I’m gonna cum so hard!”

You spank and her walls restrict in regards to your own actions, making you groan with her unparalleled tightness that surely rivaled her pussy. “Cum all over the floor—I’ll help you out, Chae.”

Removing your grip onto her hips, you didn’t waste time rubbing her clit, even inserting fingers onto that sullied cunt of hers and you can feel how wet and near her anticipated orgasm is.

It wasn’t going to take longer than what you expected—clearly close and to the point of no-return, you thrust your fingers in tandem with your thrusts, earning a guttural moan (mostly a scream at this point) from Chaewon and there she goes, fully sent onto the state of a blissful trance.

She’s tighter than earlier and you can feel it, clenching repeatedly as she pants and catches her breath because of such stimulation. Picture this: Chaewon extending her weak arms onto the edge of the sink, both holes clenching as she chases her orgasm and another fountain of that colorless liquid spurts onto the floor. She squirm under her climax, legs relentlessly shaking as you hold her in place, continuous with the extension of her high as she lets out cry after cry for more but to no avail, not all things lasts forever.

She rode the high and recovered quickly, pleading you to continue ramming your length into her and to constantly be rough on her, knowing she could take it well. “Don’t s-stop fucking me—fuck me until you paint my insides white.”

She’s struggling for a bit, groaning as you never backed down nor increased this pace—it is just right, ultimately filling her up to the brim and mixing up her insides, as someone would say.

Your cock is persistently throbbing for god knows how long, dying for an euphoric release as sweat drips down on her back, opting to lick in an inch yourself closer to your own high (maybe some praise onto that skin of hers would elevate you into an heavenly ascension). Knowing how dangerously close you are, you become a primal instrument of lust, relentless and selfish with your movements as every oscillating movement sends the both of you into overdrive.

You didn’t utter a word yet an audible moan as you bury deep inside her, painting her inside white as she clench with the warmth it brings, a stream of subsequent saccharine moans leaving her lips as after you’ve spilled everything inside her, you pull out slowly and you’ve probably broke her. 

The both of you exchanged breaths as you can see her snug hole drip some with your orgasm, completely lost in the trance as she snaps you back to reality, words invigorating you as a person and your senses.

“Oh s—shit… You’ve fucked me so well—” Chaewon’s legs shudders, sore from the fucking she took as she reaches for the buttplug and gave it to you. You know what to do with the plug you have in hand, inserting it inside her puckered hole that’s probably stretched out thanks to you, and she can’t help by gleefully smile, her blissful visage clearly a sunshine between the darkness you’ve unveiled and the dim lights the restroom provides.

“It would be a waste if I’ll just let your load drip on and spoil my pants, y’know?”

You’re mute and clearly exasperated, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall as Chaewon turns around, facing you as she’s evidently limp and your eyes quickly lock onto hers. “Got nothing to say?”

You part your lips, a breath escapes as you utter, “I never knew this idea would work—you’re crazy for this.”

Chaewon laughs as she lifts her pants up on her waist, wearing and then fixing her blazer as she faces you close, “Of course I am—now let me clean you off.”

She did her wonders and you let her take over. You’d mentally imprint this onto your brain (you’ve said this for like umpteenth times) and will never forget this moment.

But a single question arises in the midst of all of these highs: Did you earn your spot?

Only she can answer that but you’re confident you’ve passed, her holes clearly being spent locks the supposed deserving final decision.

—

It’s crazy how all of these events unfolded probably in less than a day, unable to fully register these and assess every detail because it felt surreal and too fast. You stand by it, feeling these were too good to be true but as much as you want to snap back to reality, you are walking down victorious, all within your hand’s reach and that’s all that matters.

It’s deep of a night, you’re just driving towards the hotel now after such an exhilarating day and your focus is averted onto two things: reminiscence and the road ahead.

You’re playing with the risk of death but that would be slimmer than zero—driving is just in your blood right now, and this wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Chaewon and you are in an awkward silence, looking at your peripherals to see her on her crossed legs, looking at the distance.

You’re utterly curious about her final conclusion and it’s looking like she won’t say anything so you’ll take matters into your own hands.

“Did I do well, Chaewon?”

She’s the one who’s dead silent—you know it felt ringing onto her eardrums, so when she hasn’t responded for at least five seconds you know she’s ignoring you.

“Hey, Chaewon—”

“What?” Her tone is raised up, sulking and sharp, oblivious to where her newly profound attitude is coming from. A speculation is probably because she’s incredibly tired and her usual grumpy attitude is now being a part of her mood swings. You can’t blame her if that’s the reason behind her demeanor—who wouldn’t be tired when you’ve walked for like kilometers, shopped and had the filthiest sex in a public environment known to man so you empathize.

Guess the speculation is deemed incorrect.

“What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing, I just hate how you fucked me so good earlier…” She’s brutally honest and upon that conclusion, you derived a concrete reasoning and that was the shattering of her ego.

“Well, thank you I guess—but how about—” Chaewon wails as you advance with your words and she knows she accepted defeat and handed the crown onto you—you clearly broke her apart, even got her real feeling hidden as she acts unorthodox to her natural self.

“Okay, you earned it! You did a great job with that, okay, happy?” Even though her words laces as a mock and truly insincere, you can tell she clearly enjoyed that session of yours and you don’t need to wring it out on her and would inadvertently tell how much she loved every second of that.

“Woah—Ms. Kim Chaewon is getting grumpy again, huh—ow!” She slapped your thigh as luckily, it wasn't enough for you to lose control on the wheel or something worse. You chuckle with her sulking attitude and you can’t help but find it adorable (even though she is) and even if it means to tease her rapidly.

“Yah, shut up! But honestly though…” Chaewon fixes herself, eyes onto you as she speaks up with sincerity and none of that bitchy attitude because she knows how you deserved it. “You clearly passed this test and it shows—I could never scream like that if it weren’t for that big dick of yours.”

She’s brutally honest and you love it, everything is factual and earns that little smile curling up on your lips. You smirk as your other hand finds itself towards her clothed thighs, caressing it and earning a yelp coming from her. Thankfully, she did acknowledge your actions, holding you hand as your hubris grows exponential by the second. “I’ll be grateful to fuck you that hard, anytime, anywhere.”

Chaewon’s mouth lets out a gasp, a little shocked by your latter words. “Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

You’re clear with your words and you’d let her know your commitment.

You traverse down the streets, swift with it as you stop once you get near the hotel the both of you are staying in possibly for a night or two, and she takes this opportunity to lock her gaze onto yours and it feels magnetic. Chaewon sighs deeply, and this time, with a smile imprinted on her lips and then the verdict comes after. “Well, I guess it’s official—you’re mine now.”

You don’t know where this will end and you’re playing a cat and mouse game here: what if Yeji knows about this? Regarding that, would you even confess if given the chance when Chaewon’s all over your place? Does Chaewon really consider the facts about yesterday’s circumstances and knows how this will play out?

Behind all of these questions, the truth is what follows: you’ve made this mess by yourself and you’d just know what the future may hold onto you—the angel and the devil clashing into you will tell the tales and build the roads you step on.

But right now, you’ll savor this euphoric night and it’s probably going to be better with her corresponding words sealing the final deal. “Welcome to our world—my world. We’ll have fun—so much fun...”

Fuck, what have you done, and not going to lie, you’re excited on what may happen next as this was just the tip of the iceberg—and this iceberg is a deep one, in all likelihood.

[fancyfade]

so tim can only really be somewhat affectionate to damian when damian's written with practically a lobotomy.

like. I can see people enjoying the dynamic if it happened earlier when damian genuinely was insecure in his place in the batfam and still developing his new moral code.

but like. when that happened, tim wasn't affectionate or understanding. he called Damian a homonculus and put him on an enemies list and punched him in the face in anger.

very sick of the re-writing or re-telling around damian's early days (and regressing damian back to those early days) just to prop other characters up.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[absolutehomosexuals]

The Infamous "Durge Is a Man" Essay

I - INTRODUCTION

There's one simple question that led us to developing this theory: "would Bhaal want a female heir?"

Bhaal created Durge to be his ideal successor: the hand who would've reaped death in the world, conquering it in His name.

Every detail we get about Durge's lore is tied to this objective, the entire purpose of Bhaal's creation.

The cult is obviously shown to us as patriarchal, which is hinted at from the sole fact they worship a male deity: the argument may come off as silly at first, since one could argue Gods do not understand nor care for the concepts of gender.

It would be a valid counterpoint, if it wasn't for the fact Bhaal used to be a human, having navigated the world as a fully grown man before he eventually became a God.

If we believe he created Durge in his ideal image, it seems much more intuitive for his offspring to be male.

II - THE MATTER OF SUCCESSION

We must note that Bhaal's plans heavily rely (as we can read in Durge's "diary" tab) on reproduction ; e.g "siring lots of Bhaalspawn".

This alone isn't coded as one sex or the other but, if we think of it in terms of convenience, a female heir wouldn't be your first choice for the task: women can only gestate one child per year and conceive in very specific windows of time within their cycle, while men can potentially impregnate countless women in the same time span and not suffer any physical disadvantages during gestation.

We should also consider women tend to develop a bond with their newborn and the latter needs to rely on them for survival during the first few months of their life, while a man:

1. has no such obligations from a social point view (especially in a medieval context, where bastard children were the norm)

2. isn't strictly needed by the child for survival, biologically speaking.

I doubt Bhaal was expecting his heir to keep track of her cycle, gestate for nine months with all the drawbacks that come with it, give birth risking death and spend the following months caring for a newborn – all of this, on repeat for years if not centuries.

"But he's a God, he could potentially speed up the process!"

Technically true, but why would he go through such trouble, if he could craft his ideal child as a male and avoid complications?

The game itself seems to agree with this theory, since you get the "Bhaal's stallion" line regardless of your Durge's gender, in one of the bad endings.

We could also consider the idea that reproduction = power, "spreeding the seed", to be a typically patriarchal concept.

Bhaal himself isn't fond of the idea of raising children, as he let Durge be raised by an adoptive family – a "regular" one no less, meaning he didn't even concern himself with choosing one.

III - IN-UNIVERSE MYSOGINY

There are many aspects of the religion that seem to glorify manhood, and for its leader to be a woman (by Bhaal's choice, no less) seems inconsistent.

Let's think of the infamous blessing granted to Bhaal's favourites, the Ecstasy of Murder, which basically consists in a pseudo prostatic orgasm.

Then we consider the presence of predominantly-male sexual crimes, both coming from Durge and other important figures within the cult.

We cannot deny necrophilia, for functional reasons, is extremely uncommon amongst women: necrophilic acts are typically carried out by penetrating a dead body, as it's almost the only pleasurable act you can perform on a corpse ; Durge being a known necrophiliac pre-lobotomy could be one of the many hints the character is meant to be read as male.

Not to mention the horrendous way in which Bhaalist female characters are treated in-universe, between Sarevok sexually abusing his daughter (and this concept being treated as completely normal by the narrative, as far as we know of) and Orin being constantly belittled.

We never hear of any male cultists undergoing the same treatment, meaning abusing women is the norm amongst Bhaal's faithful – yet again, a telltale sign of a patriarchal religion.

"But Orin isn't mistreated because of her sex, she's mistreated because she's not the true heir!"

Orin is, indeed, not Bhaal's biological daughter: she's related to Him by blood, but as Durge himself says, her blood is "diluted".

However, while he acknowledges she's not his biological sister, he still addresses her as such in multiple sources, meaning the cult leader himself doesn't care about her actual origins.

She's constantly portrayed as someone who gets talked down to, cast aside and her beliefs are harshly criticized both by Durge and others influential members such as Sarevok.

For Larian to choose a woman to fill this role could have been accidental, but we must admit the symbolism is quite clear.

Orin interprets murder as a form of art, while her Bhaalist peers frequently accuse of her misunderstanding her own faith, considering her too immature to lead the flock.

She's the only Bhaalist female character we're shown as remarkable, and she's coincidentally used as an example of someone the cult does not respect ; she's even biologically related to Bhaal and yet, she had to seize power by force.

IV - ROMANTIC SUBTEXTS

Another interesting matter are the characters commonly paired with Durge in fanworks: Durgetash and Durgestarion are the most popular romantic pairings according to ao3, and we cannot blame the fandom for catching up on the subtext.

Durge's "admiration" (as he calls it himself) towards Gortash is viewed as controversial and arises suspicion in-universe, to the point he feels the need to apologize to his Father and repent for an implicit sin.

While it would be scandalous to fraternize with Gortash even in a platonic matter – he's practically the leader of the rival cult –, the emphasis put on justifying their interactions has been interpreted by fans as romantic subtext.

The letter in which Durge addresses the issue is titled "Letter for Forgiveness", despite Gortash only being mentioned at the beginning, while the rest of the letter focuses on different topics entirely.

Right after expressing guilt for the way he views Gortash, Durge proceeds to repeat Bhaal's plan and promises to follow it, stressing that he would have made his Father proud regardless.

The letter overall comes off as an attempt to justify being attracted to Gortash and reassuring Bhaal that it wouldn't come in the way of their plans, as it would pose an enormous threat otherwise.

Durge being attracted to Gortash – if we choose to interpret him as a man – would come with a handful of important challenges: first of all, sympathizing with the 'enemy', implying Durge could abandon the idea of betraying him or even allow Gortash to do the same to him.

Second of all, being capable of such vulnerability that would come in the way of being a sentient weapon: a killing machine isn't supposed to feel pity, let alone experience something as foolish as forbidden love.

And thirdly, for Bhaal's heir to prefer the company of men is simply a disgrace, as it would come in the way of reproduction and possibly undermine his public image.

While all of this may have not been meant as a homosexual allegory, the fact you can find the Letter for Forgiveness on Durge's corpse if you play as Tav, still comes off as "bringing a secret to the grave".

Not to mention the note at the end of the letter, written by another cultist, reading: "Ha! Orin was right about her sibling." which is clearly a jab at what we mentioned above.

When you go to confront Orin in Act III (as Durge) about the fact she has been following you around town, she replies: "The little lordling has been whispering in your ears? He always knew how to tumble and twist your mind matter, leaving you knotted in his chords."

The matter of Durge's attraction to Gortash is seen as something silly and shameful at the same time: it's an open secret cult members dare to joke about, because they find it ridiculous.

If a hypothetical female heir of Bhaal had the slightest possibility of reproducing with the Chosen of Bane, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find it as humorous – they find it hilarious because it's taboo, a powerful demigod developing a "school crush" on a male ally.

We should also talk about some of the in-game implications about Gortash, such as being someone who possibly "slept his way to the top": managing to charm and daze a much more powerful man on purpose sounds surprisingly in-character.

What we find even more interesting are the implications that come with Durgestarion, a pairing the writers are openly fond of.

We know both characters were characterized by the same writer, the latter going out of his way to include personalized romance interactions between the two: unlike other characters, romancing Astarion as Durge gives the player access to tons of new dialogue lines and greetings, sometimes making for a completely new experience compared to romancing him with a regular Tav.

Some hints may point to Durge being the "canonical" romance for Astarion, as many fans have speculated ; while one may disagree with that sentiment, we must admit it's not far fetched.

If we consider all of Astarion's canonical past relationships (meaning, the few ones he actually deems important and genuine) were with men, and the emphasis put on Durge's "admiration" towards Gortash + the incessant pressure Bhaal puts on him to reproduce, the thought of these characters romancing each other in an alternative timeline actually sounds liberating.

Some Durge-specific lines Astarion says during his romance arc seem to be aimed at a male character, rather than sounding gender neutral: the first example that comes to mind is "Are you alright now, or is today a 'I will wed you with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls' kind of day?"

Astarion sarcastically references Durge "wedding him", thus putting the player in a stereotipical "groom" role from the start, with the veil resembling the one brides typically wear during the cerimony.

If we consider all other aspects mentioned in this theory, the line reads as somewhat... male-coded.

If we want to be truly insane about this theory – and of course, we do – , we could even add a "gay allegory" element to the equation.

A vampire and the spawn of an evil deity, excluded members of society who'd usually feel a compulsion to hide, are implied to fall in love by the narrative.

V - ACTING CHOICES

Finally, we come to the voice actor: while a specific actor was chosen to play the character and is regarded as the iconic Durge VA, Larian didn't concern themselves with choosing a female voice actor to include the possibility of a female Durge, which is why we can only hear his intro in Neil Roberts' voice.

VI - CONCLUSION

With all of this taken into account, a female Durge seems to be an after-thought, if not directly a fantasy or a headcanon that the game gives you the possibility to play out.

The original narrative, as we can see, best accomodates a male character.

[bananasfosterparent]

The difference in AA is his soul being irreversibly gone. That is the point and this is what Larians writers have been hinting at and this is what irks people about AA. The oversexualisation and erasure of his trauma, effectively erasing him as a person. I know we're talking about a fictional character, but if we're gonna go off on the topic, saying something "doesn't matter" is just a cop-out. Astarion didn't need to be "fixed" to the point of emotional lobotomy.

I don't think it's wrong to like or prefer him, but I think it's valid to have opinion on the matter, much like you have yours.

I started to apologize for the length of this, but honestly, since you sent the message, I'm going to respond to every part of it. I'm not sorry for the rambling lol

"The difference in AA is his soul being irreversibly gone."

Okay, show me the quote/scene/dialog in-game where this canonly is said and confirmed? Where does it say the ritual will ever touch his soul or any part of the game talks about his literal soul?

And if by soul you mean the "lose who you are inside" as a metaphor, that's still a matter of opinion and not actually canonly what happens. Astarion is still himself. The "changes" in his personality are shifts to simply adjust to the company he is around. He's essentially code switching.

That is the point and this is what Larians writers have been hinting at and this is what irks people about AA.

Got it. So the point of Astarion's romance is for Larian to write a singular story that has one ending you're "supposed" to enjoy with a "morally good" conclusion, and one ending that's fun and sexy, but "supposed" to be a cautionary warning of how things "shouldn't go". Because that makes sense for a "choose your own adventure" game and that's why the romance stops with AA as soon as you ascend him, and he enslaves and compels your character and you can't continue the romance with him--OH WAIT.

The oversexualisation and erasure of his trauma, effectively erasing him as a person

"The oversexualization".... So you know my Tav's personal motivations and why she chose to ascend him? And you're confident you know I made the roleplay decisions I made because you know it centers entirely and solely around it being to sexualize him?

Interesting.

Because that couldn't be further from the truth. My Tav has an entire story for why she chose to ascend him and it has nothing to do with how sexy it makes him. And it was a story I came up with well before I knew about any of this "sexualization" concept. And as a player, I didn't ascend him because I wanted a sexy vampire. I went into his romance blind and had no idea what would happen when I did it. I ascended him because it narratively made sense for my character and their relationship. But even then, if I wanted a sexy vampire, why is that a bad thing? He's not real.

And I find it so ironic that a lot of spawn fans who are anti-AA only enjoy AA for the sexual parts of that ending. Yet, we're the ones "oversexualizing" him lol

As for "erasure of his trauma"... where do I even start? What does that even mean? lol I'm not gonna lie. You sound young or unaware, but believe it or not, in real life there is more than one way to deal with trauma. And dealing with it in a way you don't agree with doesn't erase the trauma or mean the person is pretending it never happened. Ascended Astarion very much addresses his trauma and exercises a different form of healing.

In a fantasy world, you can actually explore those other options and have the outcome work FOR you, even if it wouldn't in real life. Accepting your fate and trying to align yourself with "morally good" choices is certainly not a bad thing and one way to go. In real life, that's what I agree with, as a Christian and believer in Christ. But Faerun doesn't have a Jesus. They don't have the same real world ideas of morals. They have their own gods, their own history, their own moral perspective outside of our world. Bringing in (your perspective of) our real world morals is a valid way to roleplay, but it's not the "only correct" way to roleplay.

There is the route of overthrowing what was meant to control and destroy you, and taking control of it yourself. Taking what was meant to be against you and making it work for you instead. For me, that's what Astarion's ascension means.

A smaller example of this is if you give Astarion Gandrel's crossbrow to use.

This weapon was designed to work against vampire spawn. It allows for its user to possibly inflict Turn Undead on enemies and gives them advantage in a fight against monster types. And yet, Astarion can wield it and use it effectively. He can take what was created to hurt and destroy him and use it to work for him.

Ascension can be the exact same thing. It's not a matter of which opinion of ascension is morally right. It's a matter of which decision on ascension is right for your Tav and their story with Astarion.

...saying something "doesn't matter" is just a cop-out.

Can you show me where I said "something" "doesn't matter"? Cause it wasn't in any of my recent posts. Are you referring to one of my older ones?

Not only do I not know what part of what post you're referring to, BUT I also don't know what I was talking about, if I even said "something" doesn't matter. I don't know what that "something" is.

Astarion didn't need to be "fixed" to the point of emotional lobotomy.

I'm glad we agree on something. I've seen people claim ascension is "fixing" him (because it eliminates the negative traits of vampirism) and therefore it's weird to call anti-AA spawn fans "fixers". But the difference is trying to change(fix) his morals and view of the world to reflect a "good" worldview (the spawn ending) VS trying to change (fix) his circumstances and lack of control (helping his ascend).

AA fans do not want to change his personality or his mental/emotional state. We want to change his circumstances so that he has a place to be able to make those decisions on his own. And for most of us, Ascension provides that perspective.

Spawn fans want the same thing. But the approach is more to convince him from the inside out that he can make those decisions without ascension. And that's also true. But not more valid or the only way.

But his personality does not change in either ending. In one (spawn ending), he is able to find freedom in just being free of Cazedor and exist the way he always has with a newfound confidence and peace.

In another, he is able to find freedom in taking the helm himself, and holding all the cards to be the one on top. He finds confidence in having the power and being able to wield it, without fear of anything he's had to fear with the negatives of vampirism.

But in both, he is still the same person. He still gets joy out of the same things (killing people, having/causing/observing bloodshed, and causing some chaos), he still has the same personality. The difference is in his circumstances and how he presents himself.

I don't think it's wrong to like or prefer him, but I think it's valid to have opinion on the matter, much like you have yours.

You don't mean that. Because if you did, you wouldn't have a reason to send this anon message in the first place. You wouldn't care enough. It wouldn't matter. You wouldn't have this opinion. You would be able to see value in both endings and respect the positive perspective of ascension even if you don't understand it, without arguing headcanon points like "his soul is irreversibly gone".

Your entire message is literally you trying to tell me it's wrong to like him and that the opinion I have of him is invalid and wrong. I already respect your opinion on both sides of him. Because it's your right to how you roleplay and see him. If you respect mine, you're doing a really awful job at showing it.

Regardless, if that is your intention or not. That's what sending this message says. If you really want to say you respect AA fans for enjoying AA, then stop sending AA fans messages like this and either completely avoid AA and the fans or refrain from trying to argue against it. We can discuss it and not agree while also respecting each other's roleplay choices.

This is not a wrong vs right conversation. It's a "what's your preference?" conversation. Spawn vs Ascended should be like "what's your favorite Pokemon type?"

The sooner that is realized, the better off this fandom will be.

[eww-y-tho]

But the way Cas' relationship with the other angels is so homophobic racist conservative christian family coded.

With how long this fandom has been standing, I know I'm just saying something this fandom been knew. I just needed to get my thoughts out before I exploded. Hopefully, it's a good read anyway, though.

ALLUSIONS AND REFERENCES TO LOBOTOMIZATIONS AND CONVERSION CAMPS W/ NAOMI IS A GOOD START.

"The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell, he was lost!"

Ever since Cas met you, he's gone against us, which is your fault for exposing him to that idea. Putting the blame on the other party for your family member's queerness, talking away their responsibility AND autonomy on those decisions.

(I'm not even gonna talk about the connotations underneath "touch.")

"Too much heart was always Castiel's problem."

Castiel was always off compared to other angels, more empathetic to humans, which only got stronger when meeting Dean because of the applied context of his love confession in 15x18. aka queer af.

(There are so many lines that follow/support the gay/queer interpretation, "spanner in the works," "love of humanity," etc. etc. etc; he's always seen as someone who doesn't fill the mold in a suspiciously rainbow-y way.)

"Who are you gonna believe? Your brother? Or this filthy ape?"

Ishim is probably the best example for the most overt racism, but most of the angels have exhibited some level of disdain, consider humans impure/lesser beings with microaggressions, or even just straight up racist terminology toward humans or other such kinds of discrimination and that's just real now. While this could also be read as homophobic, I think it's more applicable to racist ideation.

(The thing is, I can let Cas of the hook because it's conditioning that he grows out of, but it's clear this is a generally baked-in, cultural aspect to the behavior of angels. This quote also fits in with my next point!)

"It's us, or them," "We gave you our trust. Don't lose it over one man," "You draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right?" etc. etc. etc.

Hammering home the concept that is Cas' driving plot of the series; where do his loyalties lie, and more importantly, that they are mutually exclusive. Because of the inherent nature of their groups, he has to pick one or the other. Angels constantly give him a choice, which is a rather passive aggressive tactic.

If the angels just changed their opinions, the Winchesters would gladly allow more angels in their group, but they chose to have this worldview and then demand that Cas follow it to be accepted in their society. You know what that sounds like?

Talk to me once you get over this gay phase. I'll wait.

"Lost," "pathetically weak," "human weakness," etc. etc. etc.

A general association between Cas' love for Dean as weakness/an obstacle to have to overcome. There are many lines that denote their relation under these terms, which indicates that they believe that Cas' love for Dean is actually damaging, which lines up uncomfortably well with Christian values of how being queer is seen as a sin, weakness if you will, getting lost and helping you find your way

(Which also ties into the conversion camp/lobotomy thing.)

And there is one aspect to this, which I think is the most fascinating, but is definitely not the only one left, I'm just kind of blanking right now.

Samandriel spitting just before his other line.

"There are some in heaven who still believe despite his... Mistakes, that Castiel's heart was always in the right place."

Indicating a sympathy we rarely see. As in, family who aren't completely against a queer family member.

That hate the sin, not the sinner,

and don't think it's reflective of his character, and are just "mistakes."

The emotional strain it causes Cas is palpable. You can see how this scrutiny affects him on a deeply personal way that I relate to on a deeper level than any other character as a person living under similar circumstances, and I think a lot of people share this sentiment, which is why it almost feels TOO on the nose sometimes.

Mayhaps...... Intentional.

ANYWAY,

Of course, context is vital for these scenes, and Cas has done some pretty awful things to the angels in the past, but the way these scenes are framed/phrased can be EASILY read this way. It lines up startling well.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[writers-potion]

Hi, I am trying to write a homosexual book that takes place in the 20s. I am unsure where to start and how bad the 20s was for homosexuality so if you have any tips it would be appreciated. Thank you for reading.

Homosexuality in Historical Fiction

I'm going to answer this in two parts: (1) Tips for writing queer historical fiction, and (2) the 1920 gay culture.

Get Your Language Right

Vocabulary is key to capturing how homsexual people identified themselves and interacted with one another at the time. Consider:

The kind of language/code used at the time. For example, gay men in the 1950-60s would have spoken Polari to skirt UK’s strict anti-homosexuality laws. This might mean your characters say seemingly ridiculous things like, “Bona to vada your dolly old eek!” (good to see your nice face)

Authenticity vs. Sensitivity. We don’t need to perpetuate old slurs just because they were used “at the time”. Would the readers of today (your target audience) be accepting towards use of such language? 

Is it really necessary? Just like in the case of foreign languages and dialects, it may be better to just refer to the code/secret language being spoken rather than overdoing it in dialogue. Also, does your character identify themselves as a part of this community at all?

Balance Between Struggle and Hope

Often in historical LQBTQ+ fiction, if the conflict is badly written, the readers are just going to feel angry and frustrated. Because:

Even the likable, otherwise reasonable characters won't be able to accept homosexuality easily, often opposing it downright.

Homosexual characters may be confused, struggle with self-doubt and self-hatred (which can't be fun to read, obviously)

The norms of the time make any “resolution” rather disappointing (compared to modern times).

Your goal is to juggle between these strong negative emotions to convey the central message and let hope shine through. Linger too much on negativity and your novel will be dark, but treating these themes 'lightly' will make you sound shallow.

So, treat oppression just as you would write a physical antagonist. It's powerful and a possible life-threatening opposition to the Lead, but it has flaws, loopholes and needs time to regroup before it hits our Lead again with increased force.

+ General Tips

Beware of giving your characters hindsight. As a writer, we know what happened both before and after the time period the characters live through, but they don't! The characters not being able to predict what comes can be a good tragic element.

The word “homosexual” wasn’t coined until 1869, and didn’t become common parlance until the early 20th century. From at least the very early 17th till the mid-19th century, the most common term for women was “tribade,” referring to the act of tribadism (scissoring). Some people used the term “fricatrice.” In the 18th century, “lesbian” and “Sapphist” started to become more common terminology. Men were called sodomites and pederasts (a word which didn’t have the paedophilic connotation it does today). The word “homophile” was coined in 1924 and was most commonly used by gay men and lesbians in the 1950s and 1960s.

“Gay” didn’t take on the almost exclusive meaning of homosexual until the 1960s, and even then, it was still used in the old sense of “merry” more than a few times. Only in the 1970s did it finally emerge as the most popular, mainstream word.

Less suspicions were aroused by a lesbian couple living together for decades than a gay male couple. Many people assumed they were just two very close spinster friends, not that it was a Boston marriage. There were many more questions about why two men would want to live together.

To avoid the very real risk of jail, lobotomy, conversion “therapy,” or the loonybin, sometimes a gay and lesbian couple would enter a ménage à quatre. Though it appeared on the surface as though two straight couples lived in the same duplex or right next door, they were actually just lavender cover marriages. Some had children (through various means) and co-parented.

Photo booths were seen as a safe space where a same-sex couple could kiss, cuddle, and embrace without fear of arrest or public suspicion.

Some lesbian couples were able to adopt children as single women, in jurisdictions which permitted that. More daring couples underwent artificial insemination and then went abroad to give birth, coming home with “adopted babies.”

Similar to the handkerchief code in the BDSM community, some gay men signalled to one another with red neckties and green carnations. Parisienne lesbians signalled to one another with violets in their hair.

There’s a long history of gay bathhouses, dating back centuries. Since male homosexuality was illegal and severely punished, a bathhouse was among the few places it was safe to meet potential partners and engage in sexual activity. Even the very real fear of police raids didn’t deter patrons. Manhattan, Paris, and London were home to many famous (and luxurious) gay baths, but there were plenty of lesser-known ones in other cities.

While not everyone was lucky enough to have a lavender ménage à quatre, many people had individual lavender marriages. Sometimes the spouse knew s/he was serving as a cover, sometimes not.

There were also more “traditional” ménage à trois marriages, composed of the lavender couple plus the true same-sex partner all living together. Sometimes these arrangements were composed of a bisexual plus a partner of each sex.

People did NOT casually out themselves! They could only confide their secret to other confirmed friends of Dorothy and extremely radical allies who had proven they could be trusted and wouldn’t turn on them.

You don’t have to make your straight characters raging, violent homophobes, but it’s completely unrealistic and historically inaccurate to show them all immediately, unquestioningly, lovingly accepting their friends’ homosexuality if the secret comes out. They might agree to not let anyone else know, but the friendship would probably be over. Other people, a bit more open-minded, might eventually reconcile but never be able to completely shake the belief that their sexual orientation is unnatural, strange, or wrong. Some people might only come around after decades of estrangement and realising gays and lesbians are just like everyone else.

To avoid discovery, some lesbians called one another by male names in their letters. Some liked those nicknames so much they continued using them in real life.

1920 Gay Culture

The United States - The Roaring Twenties 

As the United States entered an era of unprecedented economic growth and prosperity in the years after World War I, cultural mores loosened and a new spirit of sexual freedom reigned.

Harlem’s famous drag balls were part of a flourishing, highly visible LGBTQ nightlife

"Pansy Craze”: gay, lesbian and transgender performers graced the stages of nightspots in cities

lesbian and gay characters were being featured in a slew of popular “pulp” novels, in songs and on Broadway stages (including the controversial 1926 play The Captive) and in Hollywood—at least prior to 1934, when the motion picture industry began enforcing censorship guidelines, known as the Hays Code. Heap cites Clara Bow’s 1932 film Call Her Savage, in which a short scene features a pair of “campy male entertainers” in a Greenwich Village-like nightspot. On the radio, songs including "Masculine Women, Feminine Men" and "Let’s All Be Fairies" were popular.

On a Friday night in February 1926, a crowd of some 1,500 packed the Renaissance Casino in New York City’s Harlem neighborhood for the 58th masquerade and civil ball of Hamilton Lodge.

Nearly half of those attending the event, reported the New York Age, appeared to be “men of the class generally known as ‘fairies,’ and many Bohemians from the Greenwich Village section who...in their gorgeous evening gowns, wigs and powdered faces were hard to distinguish from many of the women.”

The tradition of masquerade and civil balls, more commonly known as drag balls, had begun back in 1869 within Hamilton Lodge, a black fraternal organization in Harlem. By the mid-1920s, at the height of the Prohibition era, they were attracting as many as 7,000 people of various races and social classes—gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and straight alike.

London - Balls and Adverts

Like other large cities at the time, London was home to many drag balls and nightclubs where the gay community could express themselves. 

"Lady Austin's Camp Boys" (1933): At a private ballroom in Holland Park Avenue, west London, 60 men were arrested in a police raid after undercover officers had watched them dancing, kissing and having sex in make-up and women's clothes. But despite facing a lengthy prison term and disgrace, the organiser, "Lady Austin", told officers: "There is nothing wrong [in who we are]. You call us nancies and bum boys but before long our cult will be allowed in the country."

Other gay men found partners through personal advertisements, which could be an equally risky strategy. 

In 1920 the publisher of a magazine called the Link and three gay subscribers were each sentenced to two years of hard labor on charges of indecency and conspiring to corrupt public morals.

Some adverts even appeared in the national press, such as the Daily Express, although they were not quite so blatant. People would ask for 'chums' of their own sex and offer to take people on holiday.

One man responding to an advert in the Link wrote that he was "very fond of artistic surroundings, beautiful colours in furniture and curtains, and softly shaded lamps and all those beautiful things which appeal to the refined tastes of an artistic mind". He added: "All my love is for my own sex", and wrote that he longed to give his love "in the most intimate way".

Gay adverts often had references to Edward Carpenter, Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman, or would say 'I have an unusual temperament'.

Berlin - The Weimar Republic

The Weimar Republic, Germany’s first parliamentary democracy lasted from 1918 until 1933 and was a time of progressive cultural renaissance from cinema, theater and music, to sexual liberation and a flourishing LGBTQ scene.

Berlin was home to around 40 known queer bars, a number which had doubled by 1925. The cabaret bars and clubs like Eldorado were packed to the brim with lust, tassels, glitter and flamboyance.

Drag shows were the norm and stars like Marlene Dietrich (a Berlin-native) and Josephine Baker who were icons for the queer community, performed regularly in Berlin’s lavish halls.

Kiosks sold an array of well known queer publications like Die Hoffnung (The Hope), Blätter für Menschenrecht (Leaflets for Human Rights), Frauenliebe (Woman Love), and Das dritte Geschlecht (The Third Sex).

As homosexuality was still illegal, Berlin’s Tiergarten and other parks, Nollendorferplatz as well as train stations and the infamous octagonal public bathrooms

Underground spaces flourished.

Here's a list of books with an LGBTQ+ POV character, set at least partly in the 1920s:

Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix

Dead Dead Girls (Harlem Renaissance Mystery, #1)

In the Field

The Lady Adventurers Club

Last Call at the Nightingale (Nightingale Mysteries, #1)

A Good Year

The Last Nude

The Sleeping Car Porter

Once a Rogue (Roaring Twenties Magic, #2)

Slippery Creatures (The Will Darling Adventures, #1)

Crazy Pavements

References

https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20180212-polari-the-code-language-gay-men-used-to-survive

https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2004/jul/03/gayrights.world

https://www.history.com/news/gay-culture-roaring-twenties-prohibition

[katakaluptastrophy]

An aspect of the queer coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship that I've not really seen people discuss is how Harrow's response to them manifests as a sort of internalised homophobia (for lack of a better word).

The idea that there's an explicit taboo against romantic or sexual relationships between necromancers and cavaliers is introduced in A Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers at the end of GTN (a text that for the most part reskins Ephesians 5 to be about necromantic aptitude instead of patriarchy...).

It says in no uncertain terms that "the love of the cavalier for the necromancer, and the necromancer for the cavalier, is not the love of a spouse. It cannot be libidinous", that "after a myriad of thought about the matter, marrying your cavalier remains taboo at best", and that "there have been those who have argued eloquently that [necro/cav marriages are] traitorous to the ideals of the Necrolord Prime."

It then specifically addresses Fifth House practice, saying "There is still a precedent in the Fifth for spouses to become a cavalier at particular times, but this is regarded as a stubborn holdover that is characteristically Fifth to not remove from their practise." (Fifth House necro/cav marriages seem to use the same logic as married Orthodox clergy - the marriage can precede the ordination/cavalier vows, but the other way around would be unacceptable.)

In HTN, the taboo against necro/cav relationships is mentioned twice. When Harrow is interviewing Augustine, he describes his cavalier as having been "my other half" and Harrow has a visceral reaction:

You were momentarily revolted by the apparent Fifth House tradition. “You and your cavalier were—wedded?”

This, of course, is the same Harrow who, prior to a spot of DIY lobotomy, exchanged what seemed very like wedding vows with her cavalier (who is now narrating that feeling of revulsion from inside her head).

When Harrow awakes in her River bubble, she immediately repeats part of those maybe-vows and says "Griddle". Shortly thereafter, while helping the gang prepare to banish the Sleeper, we find her very pointedly observing Abigail and Magnus:

"She watched Abigail and Magnus cross on tiptoe, nimbly dodging any line that their shoes might scuff, and in passing turn and kiss each other gravely. She was not embarrassed to see this intimacy; in fact, she found that it was vaguely interesting to see a marriage play out in front of her. There were many strictures against a necromancer marrying their own cavalier, and whatever road Abigail and Magnus had chosen to walk had been a difficult one: she knew that the marriage had preceded the cavaliership, which perhaps had made it less grotesque for both. They kissed as chastely and briefly as children; Magnus touched her cheek and said quietly, “Godspeed, my darling,” and she said, “You too.” That was all. No more, and no less."

We've not been party to any internal monologue Harrow may have had observing the Fifth before, but here she's clearly working through a number of complicated feelings: her interest in a relationship like this, an acknowledgement of the difficulty these kinds of relationships face in light of social and religious taboos against them, and then an odd swing back round to the language of revulsion, as if she's reigning herself back in before she can let herself think about it too much.

Part of the taboo that is causing Harrow to have such visceral reactions is the idea that a necro/cav marriage somehow sullies the spiritual beauty and purity of cavaliership with its unacceptable introduction of the erotic. There's something terribly poignant about Harrow having this reaction even watching Abigail and Magnus' chaste kiss, and what a deeply internalised sense of shame she must have about her own feelings.

But it also makes me wonder how often Abigail and Magnus had to police their behaviour. Because even if their relationship is tolerated, it will always be interpreted less charitably. There's just something very sad about imagining high protocol situations with Magnus silently walking half a step behind Abigail, both very aware of the need to make sure that they embody one relationship and not the other.

It all happens rather in passing in the middle of the plot picking up, but it's a poignant little moment of Harrow grappling with the implications of her and Gideon, what their relationship has been and has become, and what it perhaps will be.

[omgthatdress]

Oh my god I hate Mattel so much.

They took the American Girl brand and gave it a lobotomy.

I was going to make a very very very very bad joke about one of the 90s girls getting an eating disorder after watching Britney Spears, BUT DECIDED AGAINST IT because eating disorders are something you don’t joke about, BUT. HERE’S THE THING.

Here’s the thing. Being a tween-to-teen-age girl in the late 90s early 2000s was BULLSHIT. You had 16-year-old Britney Spears singing “Hit me baby one more time” in her Lolita schoolgirl miniskirt and crop top showing off her perfectly flat abs, and then you went to school and had abstinence-only sex ed mandated by the evangelical right wing who gave out purity rings and told you that only sluts had sex before marriage. And then there was the issue of being a fat girl trying to find jeans that met her school’s dress code the days of low-rise jeans and belly button rings.

I ended up adoring Linkin Park because their music gave voice to the rage that I had inside of me because of all that. I wore men’s pants from Hot Topic not only because I thought they were cool, but they actually fucking fit and they covered my ass crack. I wore black because I didn’t fit in to the ultra-skinny, ultra cool kid Abercrombie aesthetic. And THAT is what growing up in the 90s and coming of age in the 2000s was like.

“Nicki Hoffman is a nine going on ten year old girl living in Seattle, Washington just before the year 2000 (the turn of the millennium). She is six minutes older than her fraternal twin sister, Isabel, but one inch shorter. Nicki prefers grunge, ska music, rock, alternative, and skating; she is the "grunge" to Isabel's glitter. She does not like eating raw fish and sushi; her father teases that they can's spell "finicky" without Nicki. She likes sour candy--the more sour, the better. She's known to be shy, to the point Isabel points this out; she initially doesn't have other friends than Isabel. She's very anxious about the Y2K problem and the risks and worries that have been circulating, so Isabel and her create a list to take her mind off her worries of things to do before New Year's.Her favorite color is purple, her favorite animal is a dog (she adopts her puppy, Blossom, as a Hanukkah gift), her favorite band is No Doubt, and her favorite show is The Powerpuff Girls (her favorite character being Blossom). She likes to snack on Wild Berry Pop tarts. She does not like her middle name, Pearl.The family is interfaith and celebrates both Hanukkah and Christmas. “

It’s a sterilized and dumbed-down version of growing up in the 90s, one where they only real problem facing girls is the y2k bug. It’s about the aesthetic but not the experience. Honestly the girls of today deserve to see that their moms had it difficult, too, and that the pressure to grow up incredibly quickly and be beautiful and flawless and instantly become a woman is nothing new, now it’s just on TikTok instead of MTV.

It’s the trap of nostalgia. Just because you were younger and not as aware of the issues going on in the world doesn’t mean the world was better.

[stuckasmain]

I often think about how Hal is granted the humanity that Dave is so often denied. Both within the narrative and outside of it. 2001 has had a number of interpretations and articles over the years and I’ve noticed a pattern of seeing Hal as having more agency than he does while also diminishing Dave’s. This pattern I’ve also noticed among some fans. However, interestingly inside and outside the story this “giving/taking” of humanity has to do with projection.

Hal is personified by just about everyone who interacts with him. As humans we love to humanize the inanimate and inhuman, we love to recognize and prescribe traits things may not truly have. In the case of Hal this is amplified due to the fact that he can talk. If he couldn’t talk and it was simply keyboard input he’d still be personified as it’s simply human nature to do so. The computer is doing a good job, it dings and sounds happy so we’re more inclined to act like it is happy.

Hal was made to be spoken to like another person being, he was made to be curious and self learning and autonomous. He was, practically, made to be a human. He reproduces (though some prefer “mimic”) most functions of the human brain. The people he interacts with respond to his intelligence as well as his speech, they’re pleasantly surprised by his curiosity and ability to hold conversations. He was made to be comforting and talkable in that way but one can so easily forget Programing once speaking with him. What is coding and what is real? His learning is real, he is made to change so could he not have genuinely developed feelings? Not even Hal knows.

The humans he interacts with treat him as if he has a brain, not is the brain. When he acts up and things go array the hard and cold facts are never mentioned. There are no technical terms malfunction is illness, deactivation is a lobotomy- re-teaching him after deactivation is recovery. To them he is so very alive until they are reminded he’s not, the true rough and robotic edged voice goes so far as to startle Dave when he hears it.

He is afraid. Suddenly his emotions are no longer hypothetical. He is vulnerable, he is alive and he does not want to die for he does not know sleep. When he wakes he’s afraid again— not knowing what or where just that they’ll be together.

Interpretations, by some fans, media outlets and analysts often times tend to take one of two camps with no in between. Hal is either Woobified or villainized. If emotions -> than bad emotions also exist and he did back things on purpose OR if emotions -> he’s scared and polite so forget all else. Both of these ignore the nuance and ignore that, as human as he is at the end of the day Hal is still bound by the laws of his mechanical nature. He is not as free willed as one views him to be.

Dave is human, and a well trained one. He is made of flesh and blood and bone and yet expected to act is if he is not. He is automatic and regimented - the human members of the crew being so in sync with the ship they’re almost apart of it. I’ve talked ad nauseam about Dave’s control over his emotions, how as an Astronaut you need to be calm and objective almost at all times and he is particularly good at pushing his emotions down to finish the job in a high stress situation. As we learn more about him it’s clear Dave is already a repressed person do to his past, this compounds with the training and how simply he’s introverted.

Dave (and Frank by extension) are not actually robotic or less emotional than their computer counterpart, it’s just the glimpses we see of them are on the clock. Their days are 100% accounted for in theory. You’re not going to have a huge smile a 6am or casually talk while your dealing with a delicate piece of equipment. What is shown is a montage, a long time has passed and we’ve seen the work and the “boring” as that was deemed important for the story—one should infer their conversations, their hobbies, movie or tv show nights etc.

I think another aspect that plays into this “robotic” perception is that it is the 60s. While being set in the near future it is an amazing case of retrofuturism where things are futuristic but there’s still noticeable elements of the time it was made. Clothing, social society, artutectite etc. in the 60s even casual speak was much more formal sounding then it is now— Dave is actually quite casual “how ya goin’?” “ basically” yet we perceive it differently.

Dave is automatic while the computer is not, Hal gets to enjoy the spontaneity one would expect of humans. This is due to his ability to be everywhere and do everything while also being able to focus on something else entirely. Dave is just a man- he’s limited, his focus is narrow and his reach only extends as far as his arms. Despite being a man he is not allowed the expression of one, not on the clock or in a life threatening situation. Hal can. Hal can vocally express his concerns, his fears — because it is vocal there is more weight on it. Dave expresses in subtle ways, the non verbal. These subtle, little controlled freak outs-> this is a human element Hal cannot replicate, his expression must be verbal and overt. As automatic and calculated as Dave is he is not barred from human nature and expression.

In the end it is fear that humanizes him the most, just like Hal. At the end of the star gate it holds on the shot of him wide eyed and trembling in the pod. Yet this feeling too is cut short, right when we may see a proper moment for him to express these human feelings… he’s no longer human. Literally.

But when we see him again we see him far more expressive than before, not held back by training or necessity. It’s subdued but he is feeling; he’s worried, he’s happy, he’s confused and scared and absolutely enchanted. Except this near omnipotence also hinders him, gets him to suppress further- too busy focusing on everything else to address feelings within— everything is so much bigger so he doesn’t have to think about himself.

It’s sort of an inverse where the narrative itself grants Hal his humanity but some fans and analysts are the ones to take it from Dave. As the story itself never explicitly denies his membership of the human race, even as he is transformed he’s full of reminders of it. His expression was restricted but never fully gone, where Hal as much as he grows is far more restricted by programming. Both of their limits tie back to earth and Mission Control— yet weren’t made maliciously that’s the interesting part… despite safety measures the discovery still suffers because of circumstance.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

My Father Told Me

Author’s note: Zariel in Husbandry

Summary: He assesses Keed for the Bizzare time Loss his brother had. Then brings him to one of the Librarius Alpha legionaries he knows for mental assessment.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add anything else

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Zariel was in his Ultramarine Apothecary disguise with Keed came into the clinic. He not-watched as his brother signed in and got the check in paperwork completed.

He just so happened to be free to take Keed back with him to the room as he assessed his brothers condition. His physical condition was decent- but he was healing from something that had happened to him recently.

"You're well on your way from healing from a light concussion," Zariel tells Keed.

"... I don't remember getting into a scrap, or falling hard enough to get one." Keed says baffled, honest, and nervous at the same time.

Zariel keeps a professional demeanor on, but his brother is also an Alpha legionary and can read into even the slightest of tells and grows more worried.

"I've sent a message to Tarsol," Zariel says, "You have a check in with him in an hour."

"I see," Keed says with a slight wince. "Where?"

"The park near Main and cherry tree." Zariel says with a hum as he writes a few more things down.

"I'll head out once we are done here, sir." Keed replies.

Getting checked over by an Alpha legionary psyker is usually unpleasant. Getting very little mental privacy as they root around your brain is terribly unpleasant, but necessary, unfortunately, due to ... the loss of time he's experienced.

Zariel gives him a mostly clean bill of health, he's not supposed to go on patrol or missions until he's been cleared by a Chaplain and a Libarius. The Chaplain is going to take a while to get here. Ugh.

Alpha legionary Chaplains are very rare on Ancient Terra, then aren't all that common in any Future Era too. Very necessary for the running of the legion, like a specialists.

Keed gets to the specified park and flops down in the shade of the trees. The day is pleasant, sun with some clouds, enough wind to keep the heat from being unpleasant.

"Ah- hello there," A voice calls out and he cracks open an eye to look at the Salamander-looking fellow.

"Hi," Keed says, "I'm Kesto, what's your name?"

"I'm So'val," the Salamander responds, before using a seemingly normal sentence, but is a code phrase among Alpha legionaries.

Keed responds to the phrase correctly, and the pair of them have a pleasant getting to know each other conversation as the Librarian not-probes his brain to see what he can find in his head.

Once the happenstance meeting ends, So'val says, "It was nice meeting you, I hope we get to see each other again soon."

"That would be nice," Keed responds, "I like meeting new people and friends."

The Salamander nods before heading off. Keed waits for the other to be out of hearing range before swearing. He'd noticed that Tarsol had looked concerned. Fuck.

He gets a message from Zariel a few minutes, and winces, he's going to have to head to the nearest Alpha legion base to be checked and monitored.

He'd been fucked with psyhic-wise and that could mean that some of his Alpha training could activate, or twist, or he could have been embedded with a fucking bomb and they wouldn't know until they monitored him for a while and watched to see if anything was triggered.

He's not going to be able to be near Lana for months at this rate. He'd rather not be a potential threat to her, even if it sucks. He heads to the base and helps out with paperwork and training the younger brothers.

Keed wonders if there are any Primaris Marine Alpha legionaries or not. He knows that they are all hybrids, so it's likely that there are some with Alpharius and Omegon's geneseed within them.

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

Eddie's Character Arc This Season and Why I Have Issue With It:

Eddie Diaz has been going through some character arcs, and the way they're treated and the accompanying lobotomies transitions have me concerned. Here's why:

The mustache arc: We never had moments with Eddie alone with the mustache that gave us clues as an audience of his motivations for it, how it represented him hiding and denying himself joy. It means that the whole moment with the priest was, frankly a ridiculous amount of "tell" instead of "show", and it also means that when he shaved it off, instead of feeling incredible catharsis as an audience, we were like "okay then, cool for him, I suppose." That needed to be set up and executed WAY better

Additionally, making the mustache the punchline of multiple jokes instead of giving Eddie serious moments with people who love him to address it was a huge mistake and a disservice not just to him but to the other characters--the way Bobby interrupted Eddie's heart-to-heart to make a jab at the mustache? OOC for both of them, and such a slap in the face to Bobby's relationship and rapport with Eddie. In Eddie's shoes, after that, I wouldn't go to Bobby for advice again. This was so MCU-snappy-humor coded I wanted to throw up.

Can the writers please stop treating Eddie's Stoic Caretaker personality as if it's a fatal character flaw? It's who he is as a person, both for good reasons and bad, and it's one of the main things that makes him so endearing as a character. Does he take it too far and forget himself sometimes? For sure, but that doesn't mean he should shed the whole thing like old snake skin and become someone else--a more self-interested, constantly emoting, abandoning-his-friends kind of Eddie.

On a more personal note, I really hate the general idea of media making characters so self-interested, telling audiences that the way to be a better person is to stick your head up your own ass and wait for the sun to rise in there. It won't. And meanwhile it's very hard for us an audience to like the character, in the same way that in real life we don't like selfish, self-congratulatory people.

Eddie going on an arc where he finds the balance between being there for himself and being there for others? Awesome, as long as they don't keep leaning into this "funny, punch-line Eddie" that the writers have been leaning into that isn't like Eddie AT ALL. Can he be goofy? Yes, especially when he's doped up on Funny Brownies. But Eddie's brand of goofy is VERY different from what they've been trotting out lately, and while making him Mr. Funny Guy, they've also been demoting his personality from stoic and in control to this over-emotive mess. It actually reminds me of what they did to Sherlock (in BBC's Sherlock). A little character transition is great, a complete lobotomy? Like who is this man?

Anyway, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk, and I'd love your thoughts on this--what do you think?