#why certain characters were written in this way and the history of the publications and all that crazy jazz

[barricadescon]

BarricadesCon Panel Descriptions: Highlights of Track 1, Saturday, July 13

Reflecting on Directing Les Mis by Pieces Of Cait

Cait directed an amateur production of Les Mis at the end of last year, and would love to talk about how that went and share snippets from the show and behind the scenes. This will include talking about adapting Les Mis for the space and budget, approaches to certain scenes, dual casting lead roles, and probably raving about the lovely cast. 

2. What Horizon: Tragedies, Time Loops, and the Hopefulness of Les Amis by Percy

In this presentation, Percy will discuss the ideas of tragedy and hope with reference to Hugo’s original text and the ways in which rebellion has been changed in adaptation, as well as other works of inspiration for this staged play adaptation of Hugo’s work (namely Hadestown and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead). The presentation will detail choices made in the adaptation process, show clips from the staged reading, and touch on the different characters, setting, and overarching themes with which Percy engaged while creating the play. 

3. Cosette: A Novel — The (Fanmade) Sequel to Les Misérables by Imiserabili

This presentation is  a deep-dive into the 1995 fanfiction “Cosette” by Laura Kalpakian. It will include a short background on the author and the publication, a summary of the plot, an analysis of represented historical events in the work, character analyses and comparisons to the source material and other Les Mis adaptations, and memorable quotes.

4. Barricades as a Tactic: How Do They Work? by Lem

This session will explore the tactical and strategic uses of barricades, with an eye towards what to consider when writing both canon-era fanfiction and modern AUs. After all, the strategic goals towards which the barricades were used in canon-era urban warfare were often quite different from the strategic goals of similar-looking tactics in contemporary protest movements. Core components of the session will be a map-based analysis of July 1830, a comparison with June 1832 highlighting strategic goals and considerations canon-era characters would have, and an exploration of various parallels among contemporary protest tactics (which may or may not *look* like barricades).

5. Why is there a Roller Coaster in Les Mis? The Strange History of the Russian Mountains by Peyton Parker (Mellow)

In Les Miserables there is an actual canon scene where Fantine rides a roller coaster. How did a roller coaster end up in Paris in 1817? And why did this ride, one of the worlds first Roller Coasters, make a cameo in Les Mis? It’s “Les Mis Meets Defunctland.”

We’re going talk about the earliest origins of the Russian Mountains, the fascinating history behind how they came to France, their many connections to the political turmoil of the time period, what they felt like to ride, why they were shut down, how they fell into obscurity, and why Victor Hugo included them in Les Mis.

6. Obscure(-ish) Les Mis Adaptations To Watch by PureAnon

Les Mis has been adapted many times over the years, and this means there’s a lot of adaptations to enjoy. Because of this, a lot of adaptations are underviewed or underappreciated. This panel will discuss 1925, 1948, 1967, and 1995. These adaptations are all very different and are fascinating looks at how different countries and different time periods will adapt this story. Clips of each adaptation will be shown so the audience can get a taste of what each adaptation is like. 

7. Recovery: A Fanfic Live Read by Eli (Thecandlesticksfromlesmis)

A full cast will live read a Les Mis fanfic written specifically for the con.

8. Preliminary Gaieties by Barri Cade, Percy, and Rare

In keeping with personal tradition, Rare, Percy, and ShitpostingFromTheBarricade will bring you a second year of our dramatic reading of the “Preliminary Gayeties” chapter of the brick, following specified drinking game rules (including classics such as “brick quotes that appear commonly in fanfiction,” “pretentious classical references,” and “drink/eat when characters drink/eat”), and enjoying snacks mentioned in the chapter as they are mentioned. Everyone is invited to participate by reading, eating, and drinking along with this activity!

[titleleaf]

any thoughts on laszlo and zsofia’s relationship in the brutalist? that ending scene felt very odd to me

lmaooo the thing I have been 100% dreading talking about because my thoughts are basically "it's really weird and really uncomfortable".

(cut for in-depth spoilers for The Brutalist 2024, and accompanying discussion of sexual assault, antisemitism, genocide, etc.)

The final scene is one of the big areas where I think the film's ambiguity is most intentional but also where it's most uneasy for the viewer. The narrative Zsófia composes around László's work is strongly informed by her own life and experiences -- because every viewer's will be, but also because she was traumatized again and again during the Margaret Lee Van Buren Center's construction, in ways that were intimately linked to László's employment in its creation. (Including likely being sexually assaulted during the fucking party to commemorate the project breaking ground!) Against her will, by dint of who she's related to and the work her uncle and aunt do, she's going to be defined in relation to that project for the rest of her life. It comes off to me like she's trying to smooth both the sometimes-difficult relationship she had with her uncle and aunt and their shared painful and unresolvable history (as Jews, as Holocaust survivors, as family members, and as uprooted foreigners abroad) into something that's even mildly easier to get a handle on, something that means something. Her politics are part of what make that speech uncomfortable, but not all of it. I also think to an extent Zsófia's takeaway is the one that a lot of viewers could leave the film without questioning -- that the Center building is only ever about one thing, and that it can't ever have been about anything else for him. I don't think she means any of it maliciously but presenting a triumphal statement about the one thing his works mean (which is coincidentally in line with her own feelings and sensibilities -- László and Erzsébet do not feel the same way about Israel that Zsófia and her husband do, and nothing suggests that has changed by 1980) limits the whole span of his work and career into a keynote speech you can read off a prompter in the time allotted to you.

Based on his facial droop at the end László appears to have had a stroke at some point and during the 1980 sequence we never see him speak. Whether he can't or won't, and why, isn't clear -- I don't see any reason to assume that Zsófia's delivering this speech against his will but I also don't see any reason to assume her words reflect his own thoughts and feelings. For me on top of the character's stance on Israel-as-liberation being at odds with László's and Erzsébet's, this scene is uncomfortable because it feels like she's taking the initiative both to publicize her aunt and uncle's experiences and to assign their works their significance when neither can speak for themselves. (I felt similarly really uncomfortable with Erzsébet's disclosure earlier in the film, which again is clearly not coming from a position of malice toward him and rather from a position of love and protection, but nonetheless gives me the biggest heebie-jeebies. We never see László's disclosure to Erzsébet of his own assault, we never hear it in his own words. This feels like it's on purpose, and also, I find it so viscerally uncomfortable, oh my god.) Zsófia and László are narrative foils in a lot of ways, and the different stages they're at in their lives feed into the different ways they cope or don't cope with overlapping experiences.

At a certain point (sometimes when you're still alive, sometimes after you're dead) you're no longer the one who's driving the conversation about your own work. You're no longer the one who's creating a narrative, or declining to create one. László's own account of his work (the memoir we're told he's written only when it's cited in Zsófia's speech) becomes biographical material, something for another person, however well intentioned, to comb over for clues to the ultimate cipher of What The Art Definitively Means. And some of this is just the way telling stories about art and artists works, it's something I also engage in and something that can't be avoided, it's something that happens even when the artist is fictional. Just look at the people pointing out "hey, this fictional guy diverges from his historical counterparts in xyz ways" or how the biographical points the film touches on misrepresent real men and women. There's plenty to criticize in this film but I think some viewers react to the lingering discomfort of something being intentionally ambiguous on film by deciding it's actually totally unambiguous, actually, whether it's [clear-cut thing they really like] or [clear-cut thing they really hate]. This movie left me feeling drained and wiped out even as it left me excited to talk about the stuff the film's doing around power and art and the state -- I don't think the film's ending should be taken at face value either as triumphal or "wow, Zsófia is suuuuch a bitch" but I do think it's pretty uncomfortable and depressing whichever way you slice it.

[lingshanhermit]

When Confucius and Shakyamuni Meet Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir

By Lingshan Hermit

I am not a perfect person, but I am an extreme perfectionist. As such, I hold both myself and others to extraordinarily high expectations and demands. Sometimes this creates tension in my relationships with those around me. As an extreme perfectionist, I have little tolerance for others' foolishness, even less tolerance for my own lack of effort, and least of all can I tolerate wasting time. My WeChat public account tells me that in 2024, I wrote 346,000 characters, averaging nearly a thousand characters per day. This comes close to meeting my personal standards. Over the past few years, I have been busy with dharma practice and writing. I've performed over 900 grand offering ceremonies and written hundreds of articles, which gives me some comfort that I haven't wasted my time. Because I've been so occupied with these matters, I rarely have time for other activities. So when someone asked me about my thoughts on that Hong Kong film, all I could tell them was that I hadn't seen it yet, though I had wanted to but couldn't find the time. A few days ago, I finally found a gap in my schedule to watch this highest-grossing film in Hong Kong's history. I quite liked this film—don't misunderstand, when I say I liked it, it doesn't mean I agree with the messages it conveys. I liked it because I could see in it the state of many practitioners, witness the collision between Eastern tradition and Western thinking, and observe what happens when Confucius and Shakyamuni encounter Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir.

Hello Brother represents the state of many practitioners. Although he has spent his entire life in a profession helping the deceased escape from hell, he has never truly understood the meaning behind these traditional rituals. He simply follows the traditional requirements blindly, without knowing their true significance. Because the patriarchs said and did things a certain way, he does the same, never questioning whether these words are correct or delving into their deeper meaning. Therefore, people like him are easily led astray by seemingly reasonable but false teachings, easily conquered by Dao Sheng's apparently logical arguments. This is because he has never established true faith.

I have met many people like Hello Brother. They don't truly understand Buddhist dharma, yet they practice it. Although they don't understand it, they don't know that they don't understand. Sometimes they even stubbornly defend tradition. They persist in tradition not because they are absolutely certain it is right, but because tradition has become part of them, become part of their "self," merged with their identity. In others' eyes, they are tradition, and tradition is them. Defending tradition means defending their face and dignity, which is why they persist.

On the surface, they appear to be traditional practitioners, but due to a lack of genuine practice and guidance, they haven't truly and thoroughly embraced Buddhist dharma in their hearts, nor can they resist the impact of Western civilization. Therefore, when encountering the alluring Western culture that promises immediate results, they are quickly drawn to it. There are many such people in both Chinese and Tibetan regions. Though they may outwardly appear to be disciples of the Buddha, wearing Buddhist robes, their hearts have long since become followers of Voltaire and Steve Jobs.

For thousands of years in the past, practitioners lived in seclusion from the mundane world, but circumstances have changed now. Today's monastics are no longer the isolated mountain dwellers of the past who were removed from worldly affairs. Mobile internet has become widespread even in remote monastery areas. Even if you're staying in a deep mountain monastery in Western Sichuan, you can still see the latest trending topics and receive mobile greeting messages. Compared to waking up at four in the morning to chant the monotonous Kangyur in the main hall all day, scrolling through TikTok and playing games is certainly more entertaining. Mobile internet has brought convenience and Buddhist teachings, but it has also brought the Devil and his daughters.

Compared to practitioners living in the mountains, those living in cities are exposed to even more new ideas and concepts. If they don't have firm right view, they will almost certainly be conquered by the demons. Many modern popular ideas can be traced back to Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir, and we are fed these Voltaire flakes and Beauvoir nutrition drinks through our phones every day. This is why many practitioners, though seemingly practicing, are simultaneously individualists and social Darwinists. This is probably because the fruits of spiritual practice don't come as quickly as becoming an individualist or social Darwinist.

The results of spiritual practice usually manifest in subtle ways; sometimes you can't even feel the so-called results at all. You practice dharma for many years but can neither fly nor become wealthy. When you have a cold, chanting sutras for several days seems less effective than taking a few pills of Molnupiravir. This can't help but make you doubt the efficacy of Buddhist dharma. Most people can't clearly feel the benefits brought by spiritual practice, but they can clearly experience the benefits and immediate pleasure brought by Western culture. Therefore, many people, while maintaining their Buddhist identity, have long since surrendered to Western civilization in their hearts—that has become their true refuge.

I know someone who immigrated to Australia. Once he told me about his faith in Buddhist dharma, speaking at length about it. I asked him, "If that's the case, why did you go to Australia?" He said it was because they have a better social security system there. If you believe that good medical care or social welfare systems are your true security, then your thinking is no different from that of ordinary people. Your entire value system is not Buddhist. It's like if you agree with Western medicine's claim that bone broth has no nutritional value, you would similarly believe that negative energy and dampness don't exist, and would consider Western lifestyle superior to Eastern. Likewise, you would have doubts about the existence of reincarnation and samsara. Because these concepts all come from the same source, they all belong to the same system. This system, since ancient Greek times, has only used that clumsy method to explore the world. They can only observe and analyze observable phenomena, and are completely helpless when it comes to intangible things like qi, so they can only dismiss it as ancient people's imagination.

There are many people like him. They practice Buddhism, recite Guru Rinpoche's prayers, while simultaneously seeking security from the Western system. For such people, praying for the guru's blessings is a joke. Unlike them, Brother Hello didn't immigrate to America or Canada; he stayed in Hong Kong. Although he didn't emigrate to Canada, it doesn't mean he has no doubts about the traditions passed down from the patriarchs. Therefore, when the traditional culture he inherited encountered Western civilization's opposition, although he appeared to be defending and counterattacking, because he didn't truly understand tradition nor verify its correctness, his defense appeared powerless and pale. So when his daughter Man-yue questioned him, "Didn't the patriarchs have mothers?" all he could do was repeatedly mutter those few phrases.

His son went even further. This man who grew up in 1980s Hong Kong received a completely Western education. He merely treated the family inheritance as a business venture. From beginning to end, he had no faith in these ancient rituals. He didn't believe these rituals could help the deceased, nor did he care whether they could. To him, it was just a way to make a living, no different from selling furniture at Wing On Department Store in Sheung Wan. Because of his education, he would feel that selling furniture at Wing On would be more respectable than his inherited profession. Therefore, he could convert to Catholicism for his son's extra school admission points, and then convert back later.

There are actually many such people now; I can see many of them in Buddhist circles. These people grew up in an environment completely opposite to Buddhist culture. They don't believe in Buddhist dharma or karma; they practice because their family members believe in Buddhism, because they inherited this profession. As for Dao Sheng, he represents those self-proclaimed clever secular people who treat everything as a business from start to finish. To make more money, he found a grand excuse for himself, telling Brother Hello that while the dead need to be saved from hell, the living need it even more.

To help the living escape hell, he could violate professional ethics by stealing ashes to give to the deceased's same-sex partner, could let Man-yue preside over the ritual to help Brother Hello escape hell, could break through all traditions—just to make clients feel he's a good person so they'll come back to him next time. The clients are pleased, but the effectiveness of saving souls from hell becomes quite questionable. While the feelings of the living certainly need to be respected, the focus of hell-breaking rituals is the deceased. You can't jeopardize the deceased's future just to make the living happy. Under such pretexts, you can do anything; all rules will be broken, all traditions will be destroyed, and eventually, all dharma lineages will cease to exist. It appears humanistic but is actually destroying the transmission. It seems considerate of others but is actually only for profit.

What Dao Sheng says seems reasonable but can only fool those who don't understand. I've met many people like him. They know basically nothing about Buddhist dharma; they just read a few books and question things based on their limited understanding. They think Buddhism shouldn't be this way or that way, that it should change. According to their thinking, Buddhism shouldn't have so many restrictions on monasticism; anyone should be able to become a monastic. They want to teach those who teach them dharma how to teach them dharma. Usually, I ignore such people because they're just seeking attention. What they need is education from 0 to 10,000. And I am an impatient person, so this task should be done by someone more patient.

If they had basic logic and intelligence, they should know that a tradition that has been passed down for thousands of years must have profound reasons. This is something verified by countless people who were smarter, more logical, and more critical than them, so it's not something that can be overturned by someone who has just read a few books. At Brother Hello's funeral, what Dao Sheng said to Brother Hello's colleagues was quite shallow, so shallow that I couldn't take it seriously. He insisted that hell-breaking was just a ritual, with the main purpose being to comfort the living. When an outsider is too much of an outsider, what they say will leave all insiders speechless. Because it's too easy to refute and has no value in refuting.

There are many people like him in Buddhism. They don't understand Buddhist dharma, don't believe in it, and don't cherish it. Buddhist dharma is just a tool for them to seek profit. Such people only want to please others, only want others to think well of them. They use Buddhist dharma to do favors, and for this, they can sacrifice any tradition. This is probably what is meant by "convenience leading to degradation."

Over the past century, the spread of Western education has given many people the illusion that they can judge everything. Because they have all received traditions from Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir, they tend to think many things in traditional culture are ancient people's imagination. For instance, Brother Hello kept saying women are impure, women have menstruation, the patriarchs don't like it. Most modern people won't like such concepts because they have been bound by Voltaire's ideas and believe these are discrimination against women.

I don't know if these are ancient people's imagination, but I have seen evil-doers' faces grow darker and darker, seen that when people who seriously violate samaya touch mandala jewels, they become covered in a layer of black ash. So if someone tells me that negative energy is just ancient people's imagination, I can only feel compassion for them. Brother Hello, as an inheritor of this profession, although he spent his whole life helping others escape hell, he also faced the impact of Western culture and felt his faith being challenged. It's just that in East Asian society, most people are bound by face; even if they have doubts, they will bury these doubts deep in their hearts for the sake of face. As a locally famous hell-breaking Taoist priest, he could only insist on the patriarchs' teachings, although he himself might not deeply believe them.

No one knows if he might think at midnight about whether what he does has any meaning, whether people still exist after death, whether what he does actually helps them or if it's really as Dao Sheng says—that hell-breaking is just to help the living get rid of their psychological knots. This is an issue that exists for all practitioners, but most people are unwilling to discuss this awkward question. Most practitioners facing various new things coming at them are not prepared. They don't know how to respond, don't know how to reconcile the conflicts between their practice, faith, and modern ideas.

When a freedom-loving individualist comes to a Buddhist community and sees the "Fifty Verses of Guru Devotion," sees various precepts, they will feel that Buddhist practice is full of restrictions on freedom. You have to share the teacher's leftover food with your dharma brothers and sisters because it has blessings; you have to wash the teacher's socks, endure their bad temper; if they tell you to quit your job and beg on the streets, you have no choice. You must admit these things conflict greatly with what you learned at Princeton University.

In the past hundred years, traditional culture has been shattered by modern Western civilization. Even practitioners and those who make a living from traditional culture are no longer firm in their beliefs. For many people, it's just their way of making a living. I understand why this situation has occurred. We face our phones every day, face girls dressed in anime style, face gene editing therapy and Trump Coin, face city trains speeding past on elevated bridges. Growing up in such an era, the scenes described in Buddhist sutras seem as unreal as dreams.

All along, I have believed that the root of most people's problems in modern society lies in their respecting what should be despised, while despising what should be respected, respecting what shouldn't be respected, while not respecting what should be respected. This is the root of many of our problems. From this perspective, this film is no different from those feel-good movies; it's also a feel-good movie, the only difference being that its feel-good nature is deeply hidden. It humiliated things we should respect in a special artistic way. Dao Sheng and Man-yue probably represent the modern Hong Kong younger generation's understanding of this. In their view, many traditional rules are outdated garbage. They believe the living are most important. This isn't just their view; it's the view of most modern people. The underlying logic of this view denies the existence of the deceased and also makes traditional rituals like hell-breaking lose their meaning, becoming mere cultural heritage devoid of substance.

In the letter left for Man-yue, Brother Hello told his daughter, "I didn't know those words were hurting you all along." These words revealed his true values. Although he had been engaged in hell-breaking work and maintaining tradition, deep in his heart he had always been a modern person, which is why he would feel those words hurt her. After more than 2000 years of fermentation and misinterpretation, East Asian culture has developed extremely unskillful education methods among ordinary people. East Asian parents are accustomed to educating their children with stern faces; they never praise their children and are extremely strict with them. I can't say this is wrong, but it easily pushes children to the devil's side. The devil loves those who lack love; they will appear beside them, providing them with abundant self-satisfaction. It doesn't matter if you make mistakes; they will make you feel they are the ones who truly love you. Basically, if you want to hear pleasant words, words that don't hurt you, you can only find them from deceivers. Only deceivers can provide you with full emotional value. The words of sages are never pleasant to hear.

Laozi said the sage is not benevolent and treats the people as straw dogs. Shakyamuni Buddha said women have five obstacles. Jesus said let him who is without sin cast the first stone. In today's world where individualism runs rampant, we have all been spoiled. We can't bear to hear any truth; any truth will make you feel offended and hurt your fragile heart. Even TV dramas like "As If in Hell" can make you feel greatly hurt. What you need to know is that any truth is unpleasant to hear, but unpleasant words are what you should hear.

In today's world where Western culture sweeps across the globe, traditional education methods have been severely questioned, and new-generation parents are taught not to be harsh with their children. Hong Kong, as one of the earliest regions to be baptized by British civilization, appears on the surface to perfectly combine the essence of East and West, maintaining the appearance of traditional culture, but many people have actually long abandoned tradition. Even traditional cultural inheritors like Brother Hello can fall into this trap.

Imagine one day when Confucius and Shakyamuni meet Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir. This is what happens to everyone in the film. Some are followers of Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir from the start, while others struggle between Confucius, Shakyamuni, and Voltaire. Because of what we have been taught, all our standards for measuring advancement come from Voltaire's legacy. Using Voltaire's cognition and standards, you certainly won't conclude that Chinese culture is advanced. Western society has been devoted to material civilization since the Renaissance, and today material civilization has reached unprecedented abundance. Millions of trucks and cargo ships deliver goods around the world daily to satisfy our greed. You can drive to the supermarket and buy a week's worth of food, open your phone to watch people dancing worldwide, and walk into the bathroom to find hot water waiting for you. Most people will like such a life and consider it advanced. Even followers of Shakyamuni won't refuse a hot shower. As they say, Confucianism and Buddhism never invented phonographs or chrome film, nor did they create shower heads and central air conditioning—so what have they been doing for thousands of years? As far as I know, they have been doing the most important things: studying how to solve our fundamental afflictions, researching the root of all human problems, examining the ultimate questions we must face. Therefore, they are doing what matters most. For us, the most important things are how to solve our suffering, how to transcend life and death, how to attain happiness. There are many less important matters, such as who becomes the U.S. president, how to conquer AIDS, how to make goods circulate quickly, or how to make shower water gentler. These are all less important matters. Studying these things not only fails to solve our problems but adds to them. Yet most people are addicted to these unimportant things. Of course, I never fantasize that the general public could understand these things. Most people can only see the convenience and happiness brought by Voltaire, Simone de Beauvoir, and Adam Smith, but cannot see the price they must pay for these conveniences. Therefore, people like Brother Hello, although still following and even defending tradition, have already surrendered in their hearts. I don't mean to blame him—he's just an ordinary person, and in this era, it's almost impossible not to be conquered by Western culture. Few people can see the problems brought by Western culture; even fewer can understand these issues, and fewer still would support Eastern culture while Western culture dominates the world. After all, that risks being seen as a spokesperson for backwardness and decay by the whole world. However, regardless, Voltaire and Simone de Beauvoir may bring you temporary happiness, but ultimately, it is an endless path of suffering because it is built upon a non-existent self.

Written by Lingshan Hermit on January 14, 2025

First published on January 20, 2025

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灵山居士：当孔子释迦牟尼遭遇伏尔泰和西蒙.波娃

我不是个完美的人，但却是个极端的完美主义者。作为极端的完美主义者，我对自他都有着超乎寻常的期待和要求。有时候这会让我和周围人的关系变得紧张。作为极端的完美主义者，我不太能容忍别人的愚蠢，更不能容忍自己不努力，而最不能容忍的则是空耗时光。微信公众号告诉我在2024年我写了34·6万字。平均每天接近一千字。这比较接近我对自己的要求。在过去的几年时间里，我一直在忙于修法和写作，我修了900多座大会供，写了几百篇文章，这让我稍觉宽慰，觉得自己并未虚度光阴。因为一直在忙于这些事情，我就很少有时间干别的，所以当某天有人问我对那部香港电影有什么看法的时候，我能告诉他的是我还没看，虽然我一直都想看，但是一直都没找出空闲的时间。前几天我偶尔找了个空档，去看了一下这部香港史上票房最高的电影。我很喜欢这部电影，不要误会，我说喜欢并不表示这部电影所传递的东西是我所赞成的。我喜欢这部电影是因为我能从电影里看到很多修行者的状态，能看到东方传统和西方思维的碰撞，能看到当孔子释迦牟尼遭遇伏尔泰和西蒙波娃所发生的事。Hello文哥代表了很多修行者的状态，虽然他一辈子都在从事为亡人破地狱这样的职业，但是他却并未搞清楚这些传统仪轨的含义，他只是稀里糊涂按照传统要求去做，却并不知道这些要求真正的含义。因为祖师爷是这么说这么做的，所以他也这么说这么做，他从没想过这些话对不对，也从未深究这些话的内涵，所以像他这样的人很容易被那些看似有道理的邪说带着走，很容易被道生那些貌似有理的话征服。因为他从未建立起过真正的信心。我见过很多像Hello文哥这样的人，他们并不真正了解佛法，但是他们却在修持佛法。虽然他们并不懂佛法，但是他们并不知道自己不懂。甚至在某些时候他们还会很坚持传统。他们会坚持传统，并不是因为他们��常确定那是对的，而是因为传统已经成为他们的一部分，已经是他们“自我”的一部分，已经和他们合二为一，在别人眼里他们就是传统，传统就是他们，维护传统就是维护他们的面子和尊严，所以他们才会坚持。从表面上看他们是传统的修行人，但是因为缺乏真正的修行和指导，他们内心深处并没有真正彻底信服佛法，也无法抵御西方文明的冲击。所以当遇到极具魅惑力能提供即时结果的西方文化，他们很快就被吸引过去了。这样的人在汉地藏地都有很多，表面上看他们还是佛陀的弟子，穿着佛陀的法衣，但是内心却早已经是伏尔泰和乔布斯的追随者。在过去的几千年里，修行者一直都是远离尘嚣，但是现在情况已然改变，现在的出家众早已不再是过去深山里不闻世事的人，移动互联网已经在很多边远地区的寺庙普及，即便你是待在川西的深山里也能看到最新热搜能收到移动的问候短信。相对于每天凌晨四点起来在大殿里念一整天枯燥的《甘珠尔》，刷抖音打游戏当然要好玩的多。移动互联网带来了便捷，带来了佛法开示，同时也带来了魔王和他的女儿们。比起生活在深山里的修行者，那些生活在城市里的修行人，他们所接受的新想法新观念只会更多，假如他们没有坚固的正见，他们几乎必然会被魔女们攻陷。现代很多流行思想的源头都可以追溯到伏尔泰和西蒙波娃，而我们每天都在通过手机被喂食这些伏尔泰麦片和波娃营养液，这就是为什么很多修行人虽然貌似在修行，但是他们同时又是个人主义者和社会达尔文主义者。这大概是因为修行的成果并不像当一个个人主义者或是社会达尔文主义者那样来的迅捷。修行的成果通常会显现的比较细微，有时候你甚至根本感觉不到所谓的成果。你修了很多年的法，但是既不能飞天也没有暴富，感冒了几天念经也不管用还没有吃几片玛巴洛沙韦管用。这不能不让你怀疑佛法的效力。大多数人并不能明显感受到修行所带来的好处，但是却能明显体验到西方文化所带来的好处和即时快乐，所以很多人虽然还保持着佛教徒的身份，但是在内心深处早已经拜服于西方文明，那才是他真正的依怙。我认识一个移民澳大利亚的人，有一回他跟我说他对佛法的信心，他说了一大堆。我问他既然如此你为何会去澳大利亚？他说因为那边有更好的社会保障体系。如果你觉得好的医疗或是社会福利系统才是你的保障，那么你的想法和大多数普通人并无不同。你的整个价值体系就不是佛教的。就像是如果你同意西医的说法认为骨头汤毫无营养，那你同样也会认为晦气和湿气是不存在的，会认为西式生活方式优于东方，同样的，对于是否存在转世轮回你也会存疑。因为这些观念都师出同门，都是出自同一体系。这一体系从古希腊时期开始就只会用那种笨笨的方法来探索世界，他们只能对可观测到的现象作观察分析，对于气这种无形的东西他们完全束手无策，所以只能把它归为古人的臆想。像他这样的人其实很多，他们一边做着佛教徒，一边念着莲师祈祷文，一边又想要西方体系的保障。这样的人祈祷上师加持就是个笑话。和他们不同的是，文哥没有移民美国加拿大，他还待在香港。虽然他没移民加拿大，但并不表示他对于来自祖师爷的传统毫不怀疑。所以，当他所继承的传统文化在遭遇西方文明阻击的时候，他虽然看起来是在坚守是在反击，但因为他并不真正明白传统也没有验证过传统的正确性，所以，他的坚守显得毫无力度又苍白无比。所以当他女儿文玥反问他“祖师爷没有妈吗？”的时候，他能做的就只是反复念叨那几句话。而他儿子比他更进一步，这个生长在八十年代香港��男人，他所接受的完全就是西式的教育，他只是把家族的传承当成一种生意在做，从头到尾他都对这些古老的仪式毫无信心，他并不相信这些仪式能帮助到亡人，他也并不关心这些仪式能不能帮助到亡人，对他而言，那只是他讨生活的一种方式，和在上环永安百货卖家具并无二致。因为他所受的教育，他会觉得比起他所继承的职业在永安百货卖家具会更有体面。所以，他可以为了儿子加分而去改信天主教。之后还能改回来。这样的人现在其实很多，我能在佛教圈看到很多这样的人。这些人生长在一种和佛教文化完全相反的环境里，他们不相信佛法，不相信因果，他们去修行是因为家里人都信佛，是因为他继承了这个职业。而道生则是那种自以为聪明的世俗人，他自始至终都是把这件事当成生意在做，为了能赚更多的钱，他给自己找了个伟大的借口，他对文哥说亡人需要破地狱，活人更需要破地狱。为了帮活人破地狱，他可以不顾职业道德偷骨灰给死者的同性爱人，可以让文玥主持帮文哥破地狱的仪式，可以突破所有的传统，只是为了让客��感觉他是个好人，下次再来找他。客户是被讨好了，但是破地狱的效果却相当堪忧。活人的感受当然需要被尊重，但是破地狱的重点是亡人，你不能为了让活人高兴而罔顾亡人的前途。在这样的借口之下，你可以去做任何事，所有的规矩都会被打破，所有的传统都会被破坏，最后所有的道统都将不复存在。看似人性化实质却是在破坏传承。看似为他人着想其实只是为了利益。道生所说的那些话貌似有理，却只能哄哄那些不懂的人。我见过很多像他这样的人，他们对佛法基本上是一无所知，他们只是看了几本书，就以自己的那点认知去质疑。认为佛教不应该这样不应该那样，应该做出改变。按照他们的想法，佛教不应该对出家有那么多限制，应该什么样的人都可以出家。他们想要教那些教他们佛法的人如何教他们佛法。通常这样的人我都不予理睬。因为他们是在寻找存在感。他们需要的是从0到10000的普及。而我是个缺乏耐心的人，所以这件事应该由更有耐心的人去做。假如他们有基本的逻辑和智商，就应该知道，一个传承了几千年的传统必然有它深刻的道理，这是无数比他更聪明更有逻辑更有批判性的人所验证过的东西，所以不是看了几本书的人就能推翻的。在文哥的葬礼上，道生对文哥那些同行所说的话相当浅薄，浅薄到我都无法认真对待。他坚持破地狱只是一个仪式，最重要的目的是安抚活人。当一个外行太外行的时候，他说出来的话会让所有的内行都无语。因为太容易驳斥而毫无驳斥的价值。佛教里有很多像他这样的人，他们不懂佛法，也不相信佛法，更不珍惜佛法，佛法只是他们谋利的工具，这样的人他们只想讨好别人，只想让别人觉得自己好，他们拿佛法做人情，为此他们可以牺牲任何传统。所谓方便出下流，大概就是这个意思。

近一个世纪以来，西式教育的普及让很多人产生了一种自己能判断所有事的错觉，因为所接受的都是来自伏尔泰和西蒙波娃的传统，所以他们会觉得传统文化里很多东西都是古人的臆想。譬如文哥一直在说的女人污秽，女人有月经，祖师爷不喜欢。大多数现代人不会喜欢这样的观念，因为他们早已被伏尔泰的理念捆绑，认为这些都是对女性的歧视。我不知道这些是不是古人的臆想，但我见过作恶的人脸色越来越黑，见过严重违反三昧耶的人所触碰的曼扎宝石都会蒙上一层黑色的灰，所以如果有人告诉我晦气只是古人的臆想，我只会悲悯他。文哥作为这个行业的传承人，虽然他一辈子都在为人破地狱，但他同样面对西方文化的冲击，同样也感受到自己信仰受到冲击。只是在东亚社会里大多数人拘于面子，即便是有疑问，为了面子他们也会把这些疑问深埋于心。作为当地著名的破地狱道士，他只能坚持祖师爷的说法，虽然他自己也未必深信。没有人知道他会不会在午夜梦回时想一下自己这么做到底有没有意义，想一下人死了到底还有没有存在，想一下自己所做的对他们到底有没有作用还是真的像道生说的那样破地狱只是为了帮活着的人摆脱心结。这同样是存在于所有修行者身上的问题，只是大多数人不愿去讨论这个尴尬的问题而已。大多数修行者面对着各种扑面而来的新事物，他们并没有准备好。他们不知道如何应对，不知道如何理顺自己的修行信仰和现代理念之间的冲突。当一个向往自由的个人主义者来到佛教团体看到《事师五十颂》，看到各种戒律，他会觉得佛教修持里充满了各种不自由。你要去和师兄弟们分享老师吃剩的食物，因为那样有加持；你要去给老师洗袜子，要忍受他的暴脾气；如果他让你辞掉工作沿街乞讨，你也别无选择。你必须承认这些和你在普林斯顿大学学到的东西存在着很大的冲突。在过去的一百年里，传统文化已经被现代西方文明冲击的支离破碎。即便是那些修行者和以传统文化为生的人也都不再坚定，对很多人而言，那只是他们谋生的方式。我理解为何会出现这样的情况，我们每天都对着手机，对着二次元打扮女生，对着基因编辑疗法和川普币，对着高架桥上飞驰而过的城市列车，生长在这样的时代，佛经里所描述的场景都像是梦一样虚幻。

一直以来，我都认为，现代社会多数人所遭遇的问题根源在于他们尊敬那些该鄙视的，却鄙视那些该尊敬的，尊重那些不应该尊重的，却不尊重那些应该尊重的，这是我们很多问题的根源。从这个意义上来说，这部电影和那些爽片并无差别，它同样是爽片，区别只在于它是那种隐藏的很深的爽。他把那些我们应该尊重的东西以特殊的文艺方式羞辱了一番。道生和文玥大概代表了现代香港年轻一代对此的认知。在他们看来，很多传统的规矩都是过时的垃圾，他们认为活着的人才最重要，这不只是他们的想法，这也是大多数现代人的想法。这种想法的底层逻辑否定了死者的存在，也让破地狱这种传统仪式失去了存在的意义，成为了徒具形式的文化遗产。在留给文玥的信里，文哥对女儿说：“我不知道那些话一直都在伤害你。”这些话暴露了他真实的价值观，虽然他一直在从事破地狱的工作，一直在维护传统，但在内心深处他一直都是个现代人，所以他才会觉得那些话伤害了她。东亚文化经过2000多年的发酵和曲解，在普通人身上展现出了极不善巧的教育方式，东亚父母们都习惯于板着脸教育孩子，他们从不赞美孩子，对孩子极为严格。我不能说这是��的。但是这很容易把孩子推到魔鬼那边。魔鬼最喜欢那些缺爱的人，他们会出现在他们身边，为他们提供充裕的自我满足感，你犯了错也无所谓，他会让你觉得他才是爱你的。基本上，如果你想听好听的话，不伤害你的话，只有去找骗子，只有骗子能提供你满满的情绪价值。圣人的话都不太好听。老子说圣人不仁以百姓为刍狗，释迦牟尼佛说女人是五漏之身，耶稣说你们中间谁是没有罪的谁就可以去砸她。在个人主义泛滥的今天，我们每个人都被惯坏了，我们听不得任何真话，任何真话都会让你感觉被冒犯，都会伤害你的玻璃心。连《宛如阿修罗》这样的电视剧都能让你感受到巨大的伤害。你要知道的是，任何真话都不好听，但是不好听的话才是你该听的。

在西方文化席卷全球的今天，传统的教育方式受到了严厉的质疑，新生代的父母被教导不可以对孩子疾声厉色。香港作为最早被英国文明洗礼的地区，从表面上看他完美结合了西方和东方的精髓，保持着传统文化的表象，但是很多人其实都早已弃离了传统。 连文哥这样的传统文化继承者都会踩进这个坑。

想像有一天当孔子释迦牟尼遇到伏尔泰和西蒙波娃。这就是发生在电影里每个人身上的事。有人从一开始就是伏尔泰西蒙波娃的信徒，有人则挣扎在孔子释迦牟尼和伏尔泰之间。因为我们一直被教导的内容，我们所有衡量先进与否的标准来自伏尔泰的传承，用伏尔泰的认知和伏尔泰的标准，你当然不会得出中国文化先进的结论。西方社会从文艺复兴时期开始就致力于物质文明，发展至今物质文明已经达到前所未有的丰富，每天有数百万辆卡车货轮把货物送到世界各地以满足我们的贪欲，你开车去超市就能买到一个礼拜的食物，打开手机就能看到全世界的人跳舞，走进浴室就有热水等着你。大多数人会喜欢这样的生活，会觉得这样的生活很先进。即便是释迦牟尼的追随者，也不会拒绝热水澡。正如他们所言，儒家佛教未曾发明过唱片机和克罗姆胶卷，也没有做出花洒和中央空调，所以他们几千年都做了些什么？就我所知，他们在做最重要的事，在研究如何解决我们的根本烦恼，研究人类所有问题的根源，研究我们最终要面对的问题，所以，他们是在做最重要的事。对我们而言，最重要的事是如何解决我们的痛苦，如何超越生死，如何得到快乐。而不那么重要的事有很多，譬如谁去当美国总统，怎么才能攻克艾滋病，如何让商品快速流通如何让花洒出水柔和。这些都是不那么重要的事。研究这些不但解决不了我们的问题，还会增加我们的问题。但是大多数人都沉迷在这些不重要的事情上面。当然，我从不幻想社会大众能理解这些，大多数人只能看到伏尔泰、西蒙波娃、亚当·斯密们所带给他们的便利和快乐，而看不到为了这些便利所要付出的代价。所以，像文哥这样的人，虽然还在遵循传统，甚至还在坚守传统，但是内心也早就已经沦陷。我没有指责他的意思，他只是个普通人，生在这个时代，想不被西方文化征服几乎不可能。没有几个人能看出西方文化所带来的问题，甚至都没有几个人能听懂这些，更没几个人会在西方文化统御全世界的时候还能力挺东方文化。毕竟，那是要冒着被全世界视为落后腐朽代言人的危险。但是，无论如何，伏尔泰和西蒙波娃会带给你一时的快乐，但是最终，那是一条无尽的痛苦之路，因为它是建立在一个不存在的自我之上。

灵山居士写于2025年1月14日，首发于2025年1月20日

[silverstarfics]

Today’s prompt was ‘I’m proud of you’ and I could have written pure fluff. I had planned to write pure fluff. But somehow this happened? 

(Warning: a character gets outed against their will so skip this one if you think that’s something which might upset you. Here, have a virtual hug instead <3)

AO3 link

@thunder-pride

All of them have had their fair share of unwanted paparazzi coverage - certain people significantly more so than others – to the point where Gordon joked that it was an official Tracy coming-of-age tradition, earning a horrified look from Alan and a stern lecture from Scott. So, really, this sort of thing shouldn’t have been a surprise. And yet.

It wasn’t even as if Gordon was secretive about his sexuality. It was common knowledge amongst friends and family; he’d just never outright stated it in an interview for public dissection. He flirted with anyone who took his fancy and painted a little flag on his baldric during pride month. So, really, from his perspective, getting outed by the press wasn’t a big deal, because how could he have been outed if he had never been in the closet to begin with?

He was mostly upset on behalf of his poor date who had suddenly faced reporters at his front door and had been forced to disconnect his phone when it rang off the hook for several hours straight. Or, you know, not-so-straight, which was kind of the issue in the first place. Gordon didn’t give a shit what the press thought – or what anyone thought of him save for his family – but he drew the line at them harassing someone he’d come to care for. It wasn’t as if it was even a serious relationship – mostly just casual hook-ups which had led to getting dinner together when Gordon next had some downtime – so the poor guy had definitely not signed up for this.

“It’s none of their goddamn business,” Scott declared, a livewire of pure fury. He was angrier than Gordon himself, ranting about privacy and boundaries and the audacity. Several emails had been sent to a very expensive firm of lawyers and if the reporter who had initially broken the story valued her life, then she should probably start running for the hills and become a recluse for the rest of her life.

“I know,” Gordon repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

They were in one of the spare offices up in the Roundhouse and he was lounged upside down on a blue couch. The blood rushing to his head did nothing to cure the faintly queasy sense of discomfort which had accompanied the cold pit in his stomach.

It was like he’d said already – if he’d ever been a closet to begin with then it had been made of frickin’ glass, so he hadn’t technically been outed… So why did he feel so weird about the entire thing? It was sort of violating to have everyone discussing his personal life. The tabloids had been pawing through his entire dating history for the past two days. He sort of wanted to be sick.

“I just…” For the first time, he let a hint of unease creep into his voice. He closed his eyes, sensing Scott’s footsteps come to a halt. “I hate the way they’re talking about this like it’s a dirty secret. It’s who I am. I went on a date with a guy. Big deal. Why are they talking about it as if they caught me drug dealing? And it’s- God, I don’t even know. I don’t care who knows, but I care that they’re spinning the story into this whole reveal. It’s supposed to be my choice, you know? I’m meant to be the one who says, hey, by the way, this is me.”

“It’s not everybody knowing which bothers you, it’s the loss of autonomy.”

“Exactly.”

Gordon felt the couch dip as Scott took a seat beside him. When he opened his eyes, his brother was silhouetted against the sinking sun, dark hair highlighted with gold light, jaw still set with indignation on Gordon’s behalf. For a moment, he looked so much like their father that Gordon lost the ability to breathe. He wondered briefly how Jeff would have dealt with the situation. Probably in much the same way as Scott had – with a bloodthirsty legal team.

“Sit up before you make yourself sick,” Scott instructed him, leaning back against the cushions with a weary sigh. There were dark circles beneath his eyes again, tension keeping his shoulders rigid. He scrubbed his hands down his face, repressing a yawn. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours fending off the press whilst setting their own PR team on the case, despatching TI security to protect the poor, unfortunate date and checking in with Gordon at the same time. He probably didn’t even realise just how grateful his younger brother was for all of it.

“Thanks.”

Scott reached forward, snagged Gordon’s shirt, and hauled him the right way up. “Come again?”

“Just… thanks.” Gordon shrugged, tucking his hands under his thighs to keep from fidgeting. He stared at the sunrays falling across the carpet to avoid meeting Scott’s gaze. “For all of this. I know you’ve always got my back, but you’re, like, genuinely angry on my behalf right now and it’s just… nice. So, thanks. I have got a favour to ask though.”

Scott switched his phone onto silent as it vibrated again. “What type of favour?”

“Let me do an interview. Just one. It’ll be an exclusive scoop, so I want it to be with the right person, which is sort of where you come in because I have no idea how to arrange that. We’ve got an entire team for this kinda thing, right?”

It could have been a trick of the light, but Scott’s smile looked impossibly fond. “I’ll handle it. Penelope has some contacts too.”

“Cool.” Gordon exhaled slowly. His head was spinning slightly, although it was difficult to tell whether that was a result of sitting upside down for so long or a delayed reaction to having his sexuality used as a tabloid headline. “Cool, cool, cool. Also, um… actually, there’s one other thing. We have scholarships, don’t we? Like, there’s one set up in Mom’s name. Is there one in Dad’s? I have a vague memory of that.”

“There’s…” Scott took a moment to steady his voice. “John and I set one up in his name after- Yes, there’s a Jeff Tracy scholarship.” He draped an arm along the back of the couch and let Gordon fall heavily against his side. “You’ve got an idea then, I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” Gordon lifted his feet onto the edge of the couch and picked at the loose thread in his shorts. His hands were trembling slightly, but he couldn’t figure out why, only knew that he was more grateful for Scott’s presence than he could put into words. “Can we set another one up? For LGBT+ kids? Not in my name, it feels kinda weird doing that while I’m alive. But yeah. Is that a thing we can do?”

Scott lifted his arm from the cushions to pull him closer. “Definitely. It’ll take a few days, but I can get it approved by Friday at the latest.”

He fumbled for his phone, trying to stifle a yawn, and Gordon swatted his wrist.

Scott shot him an offended look. “What was that for?”

“It can wait until morning. We both need a break. You’ve been up the entire night.”

“So have you.”

“Exactly.” Gordon clambered off the couch. “C’mon, let’s grab some food and crash for a few hours. Like, a lot of hours.” He caught Scott’s hands and tried to pull him upright. “Scotty.”

Scott reluctantly slid his phone into his pocket. He was clearly itching to check those unread messages and emails, but for now his younger brother was still his top priority and Gordon was planning to make the most of that for as long as he could. It was rare for him to be able to get Scott to eat a proper meal and actually sleep for once. The same fierce love which had led Scott to verbally tear several people to shreds whilst simultaneously typing out an email with his other hand ran both ways even if the dumbass couldn’t always see that.

Virgil had saved two plates for them, both stashed in the fridge with a note warning Alan not to touch on pain of death. Gordon shoved one in the microwave and propped himself against the counter to wait while Scott sat on a bar stool and tried not to fall asleep. Unusually, they ate in silence – Scott responding to emails and Gordon lost in his own head.

“Hey,” Scott prompted.

Gordon blinked, suddenly realising that his empty plate was gone. He pushed his knuckles against his eyes to rid them of the tired blur. The world seemed very big all of a sudden. People were talking about him – not his achievements but his identity – and it made his skin crawl. He imagined that this was the closest he would ever come to understanding how John felt about social events.

“Gordon,” Scott called softly, rapping his knuckles against his brother’s head. “C’mon, bud. Bedtime. Don’t make me carry you.”

Gordon slid off his perch with a tired laugh. “Carry me? I’m not ten anymore.”

“And?”

“And you wouldn’t let that stop you.”

“Exactly.”

Scott tugged him into a warm hug. Gordon let his head fall against his brother’s shoulder and finally felt the tension leak from his muscles. The world was passing judgement and if he were honest with himself then that was scary as hell, but Scott was still here, defending him from bullies as if they were kids again. He buried his face in Scott’s shoulder and breathed.

“I’m really proud of you,” Scott murmured. “I’m so sorry this happened, but I’m proud of you.”

Gordon lifted his head with a watery smile. “Permission to make a Pride joke?”

Scott gave him a light shove towards the stairs with a laugh. “Go to bed, squid.”

[ectonurites]

No hate meant towards him at all, but ngl I really kinda didn’t think Tim and Bernard would make it this far as a couple or like, last this long? I’m not even sure Meghan Fitzmartin thought they would, because I remember an interview or something where she was asked why she chose Bernard and rather than it being something about his character or relationship with Tim, she said it was because he was from the time period in comics she wanted to evoke, iirc. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Ah yes, so first of all I do know exactly which interview you're talking about, I had gone and transcribed the section you're referencing myself a while back! I'm not gonna copy & paste all of that, but here is a link to the post where I did it so you can see her exact phrasing.

One thing I do want to note is that Bernard's relationship to Tim was at least kind of part of her reasoning—specifically that Bernard was a friend of Tim's who existed outside of the hero life: "[...] it really was important for it to be like, ya know, not in a superhero space but like in a- in a very Tim personal space. Like, this is who Tim Drake is and this is a person who knows Tim Drake."

Also, funnily enough your paraphrasing ("because he was from the time period in comics she wanted to evoke") actually kind of... sounds more like it's based on a line in the commentary I made where I was explaining how I interpreted what she said ("A seemingly big factor in why Bernard was chosen was to evoke feelings of that specific time") rather than her actual words ("I, um, I really sort of wanted to get back to that particular emotional space for Tim.") Maybe we just make similar word choices though lmao.

But anyways: I did specifically link the version of that post where I had made that additional commentary talking through my thoughts on the reasoning behind picking Bernard—tldr being that imo the story of Sum of Our Parts was about 'Tim figuring out his identity' above 'Tim finding the ultimate romance', so picking Bernard as a supporting character from Tim's old solo run to solidify and support the theme [rather than an extensive history with Tim being the deciding factor] made plenty of sense for the story being told and worked effectively.

Now, that post was written in 2021 so obviously things are in a different place now—but I do say something there that I wanna bring up, because I think it captures what my opinion on the future of the relationship had been back when it was new:

"From here on they could either further develop the relationship to be something with a lot of romance, or maybe Bernard just serves his purpose as the guy Tim realizes he likes guys with and they part ways to go on to date other people, either thing could work and make sense depending on what stories future writers (either Fitzmartin if she gets to continue with Tim after Urban Legends #10, or anyone else who picks him up for content focused on him in the future) are trying to tell."

I was always in a 'this could go several different ways' camp! Kept an open mind, lmao. And I do think that like, from the ending point of Sum of Our Parts, that was probably the intent—while having one bit to continue the story in Urban Legends #10 was obviously secured by the time of publication for #6, the vague end note of #10 (which just states the fact that Tim would get content in 2022, not specifying what) definitely implies that beyond that/at that point in time things were less certain about his upcoming direction. Having things end in an open enough way where if Meghan didn't get to continue with Tim there would be a complete story, but that if things did get to continue with her she'd have a plan/path to go down, yk?

And I think it's clear now that they did end up going down the 'further developing it' path since Meghan stayed on as Tim's writer for a while (between Tim Drake: Robin and Dark Crisis: Young Justice). And frankly, despite the reasoning behind Bernard being chosen seeming more theme-related than anything else, I think it's also clear Meghan just had a fondness for him/that timeframe he came from, hence why she took the opportunity to explore things further with them when she was given it. Like, idk maybe this is just based on Vibes™ but I feel like Meghan's intent was always to keep going with the Tim/Bernard thing as long as she was the one writing Tim.

I do feel like if anyone else had ended up as Tim's primary writer after the Urban Legends story, things may have turned out differently and the relationship may not have lasted the way it has—but it's hard to truly say since that's not what happened.

Now that she's not currently slated for anything upcoming with Tim (at least not that I'm aware of, frankly Tim doesn't have much coming up at all aside from a general 'he'll likely be showing up in some capacity in batbooks' sentiment) I think the future of the two of them is a bit less steady. Not that I think they're immediately doomed or anything, but just that next time Tim gets solo content it could easily be from someone who doesn't want to deal with a civilian boyfriend element, who knows. But now that they actually do have some content under their belt in Tim Drake: Robin, it could be something someone else wants to pick up and explore even more, too. It's simply... hard to say!

But basically: I definitely understand being surprised they've lasted this long, because a part of me is surprised about that too/didn't expect it to last this long—but another part of me is less surprised based on some factors of the situation (namely just: who has been doing the majority of writing of Tim).

[mossworth]

I am fully convinced that so many major "puritanical" figures of myth and history--from Hippolytus Son of Theseus to John Harvey Kellogg--would not just be better explained but better understood if folks just took the time to consider that asexuality exists as more than just a Non-Sexuality. Treating it like a Non-Sexuality, like a Non-Thing, takes away the agency of preference and sense of self. It takes away the ability for its existence to be used as an explanation for human motivation. The same way love--and lust--are some of the oldest motivators for every possible human story ever written, asexuality-- a weak or lack of innate sexual attraction--has just as much power to motivate someone for or against certain actions as sexuality might. Why were these people so confused by, and confusing to, their greater public? Why were they so heart-set on certain ideals that seemed so natural to them, but unnatural to others? What in them motivated them to take up the mantle of lives that seemed so difficult to other people? Why do we seek out heat when we're cold? Or avoid food when we're not hungry? Sure, God is an answer. Purity. Chastity. But those are decisions and ideals, decisions that some people find quite hard to make, and others find quite easy. The whole story of Hippolytus is that he was so "pure" and, in an essay I wrote some years ago now, asexual that even the gods noticed. It was a part of him that was unbelievable to his peers, so they thought he was lying. They think: he must be protesting too loudly, denying all the things he must do because everyone wants to do those things. The high regard he had with Artemis in his story tells us, the reader, that he wasn't. She wouldn't be so easily fooled. He was just *like that*. And, damn, as a character, he's obnoxious and misogynistic about how easy it is to stay chaste, and how much he just doesn't understand why it's seemingly so hard for others. He's as blind to the individuality of his own preferences as the people who accuse him are to their own. I like to think I wasn't nearly so puritanical but so much of his story sounded a lot like when I thought I was a Good Christian Married To The Lord and No One Else Who Didn't Even Need A Purity Ring To Remind Me Of My Promise (when, it turned out, I was just aroace. Religious chastity is a good outlet for getting to stop asking why you don't date. I was, on all other accounts, a terrible Christian. Worse now because I'm gladly and gleefully not one at all, anymore.)

I dunno. I don't mean to derail your post. But I really do think we should consider the Maergarets of our past more often. It might explain some things.

There were probably some medieval asexuals that were absolutely insufferable on their moral high horse about it. Like "this modesty shit easy - I haven't lusted over any man ever in my life and only fuck my husband out of duty from God and only so that we have children. I am so much better than any of you hoes."

And some other local goodwife would get sick of this and go "well obviously you don't have time for cock, Maergaret, since you're always too fucking busy choking on your own vanity and pride!" and have a smackfight that progresses into a full-on two-woman brawl in the town square. People gather around to watch this until a clergyman shows up to remind everyone that not only is this kind of brawl between good christians definitely a sin, it's also a sin for everyone who's watching to place bets on who's going to win.

[suxdixx4god]

i don't create a kosher kitchen or avoid chametz for passover

i live an inclusive life i share most of my resources time and spaces w other people and they aren't kosher or know what chametz is

i'd rather just read about the passover story on passover and observe awareness of the story

i can keep kosher to a certain level but like unless i lived and existed in a jewish only community or just was alone all the time there's literally no way for me to successfully perform the tradition correctly. it's not possible.

and i don't think religion is worth changing things abt my life like being socially focused and working w the public and being out in shared spaces and environments all the time.

i can only observe it to the point where it can fit into my daily life if it doesn't i modify the practice or observance of it and if anyone dislikes that i dislike them

and i don't believe in Kareth. If Hashem is real and connected to a person, Hashem should exist with you if you break a rule or not.

like how many traditions and rules have been written using god as a front to make ppl obey it. if hashem is this other dimensionly being that exists outside the mundane physical earth realm i don't think hashem would actually give a fuck if you ate bread or drank a pepsi zero. some things i think ppl do just to feel alive or like they have something they can do with other people.

i like leaving fruit out for sukkot cause i super fuck w that holiday.

passover tho like, i can read about what happened and absorb the information. i don't get what my stomach today has to do with their situation back then, because it doesn't have anything to do w it. :|

i'm abt that symbolic sh!t like lighting candles, that's cool. but i'ma eat my fucking breadrolls and i'm not gonna endure kareth.

nobody is going to endure kareth. any religious text that says you'll be punished eternally for not being good enough at something or doing something right, that's abusive. and if it rlly does work that way i know how to throw hands and tussle if i wake up in the fiery depths of a fucked up shouldn't be real law.

i think god is a dramatic such a fucking dramatic entity. if someone told me i have to act a specific way or my life will be cursed and i will suffer endless consequences i would beat the fuck out of them.

but that's why i always fucked w Lilith more anyways 🤷🏻‍♀️

i don't even think hashem is the main character of judaism i just think they're the fucking loudest one

bro thinks so too that's why they always like "oh don't seek out other entities besides me i only want u 2 like me and listen 2 me 👉🏼👈🏼" girl so ur admitting there are other relevant entities in the conversation let's open the doors set some seats out and work together why u so scared 4

TLDR i think i'm slowly overtime developing a type of judaism that is congruent w being in shared spaces and in public 24/7 cause as much as i appreciate jewry um

i can't stop my life for a mid tradition and i'm not going to unless it serves a rlly significant purpose

i am witchly i believe a lot of the stories from ancient history's past have also been misinterpreted for centuries

i've done spells before where in exchange for one thing i abstained from a different thing and they have basically worked

i think in the particular situation where communities were trying to flee and escape and asked hashem for divine power to enable the journey, i think something metaphysical had to occur to get that wheel turning and get them free.

but i'm not trying to do anything metaphysical on passover i'm probably on my computer doing work and chilling.

like they had to do what they had to do to get what they needed done, done. and it worked. but thousands of years later i just don't get why i would have to repeat the ritual. we're not stuck in that situation anymore. we can relax now. ?? sheesh if i have to flee a king that's forcibly holding my family hostage i'll do whatever divine hexing bullsh!t i have to do in that scenario but on passover this year i am just chilling on my computer.

i ain't omitting chametz curse me idgaf

technically a rabbi might choose to exempt me because i have a digestive disease and also autism so changing the foods i've decided are safe to eat could cause a medical crisis for me

but even if that was not the case i just don't fuck w Kareth. people should uphold the traditions and values that they resonate with.

[howelljenkins]

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom. 

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing.  I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly. 

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold. 

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children). 

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!�� would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical. 

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

[insipid-drivel]

I think this is a great point, but there are certain circumstances where, in my own personal experience, clearly indicating, "Hello. I have this condition that This Character is portrayed with," is both valuable and a means of pulling in readers that either share that same condition, or have a sincere interest in it. My explanation for why is under the cut:

For me, it's Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID or "multiple personalities" - please do not use the last term, as it is very harmful and dismissive of a wider array of symptoms that we experience along with our alters). I am a person that has DID in a unique presentation called DDNOS-1B, and something I've learned in striking out since my diagnosis is that there are some communities, such as many members of the DID community, that will not engage with any authors or content that aren't clearly indicated that they were written by someone that has that condition, or has close personal experience with it through a loved one or friend that advised on the work.

I myself have lived openly with DID since I was diagnosed in my late 20s by my longtime psychiatrist. I've sought communities of other people with DID, but to be blunt, they don't really exist that much, or are overflowing with malingering kids and "Therian systems" that very much do not understand the damage they cause by entering our very, very limited spaces and communities. Most people with DID are often alone, or live entirely closeted except with a very, very precious handful of people they feel they can trust. There are larger communities and support groups (and more therapists, too) that support and positively represent schizophrenia than there are that do the same for DID. My best friend of over a decade is schizophrenic, and has discussed with me on multiple occasions how they've found more media like fanfiction that represents schizophrenia in a decent way more than he's ever found anything that tries to touch DID at all.

Most people with DID, that know they have DID, and that I have known that have DID, are completely and totally functionally exhausted and traumatized by the media and attempts to find community as soon as I get the chance to meet them. Most of them are, to a greater or lesser degree, traumatized by the harshness most writers/producers portray DID as being when, in fact, DID is not the uber-dangerous, spooky thing that Netflix's bullshit movie "Split" makes it out to be. Nevertheless, a large number of people with it live closeted because, like other stigmatized mental conditions, you're basically inviting pain into your life trying to pursue media that represents you in a world where nobody really gives a shit, because the DID is a plot element and A Problem This Brave Brave Character Is Overcoming and nothing more.

DID especially is villainized, and often co-opted by malingerers that think it's cool to feign the condition in the most stereotypical and harmful ways possible. There's a long history of serial killers that malinger as DID sufferers because "it's an easy excuse to get an insanity defense" in court. My own psychiatrist of over 10 years was formerly a court-appointed psychiatrist that assessed the validity of claims of disorders like DID and schizophrenia in violent felons that tried to get lighter sentences for themselves (Ted Bundy did this, as well as a host of other infamous serial killers).

Can you imagine what it's like to live with a diagnosis that the general public has only heard about in literal horror movies and true crime documentaries, and is always portrayed in the most villainous and infantilizing ways by popular media?

After a while, a lot of people like me give up and embrace the concept of, "No representation is better than this representation." There are more cries in spaces like tumblr for ending the flagrant overuse of the word "Narcissist" than there have ever been cries for showing basic human decency to people with DID. I've never seen a viral post about mental health in any space or platform that's been about DID/OSDD and its need for kinder and more honest representation. I've been in hospitals where I have asked lifelong health professionals, "Have you even heard of DID?" reply with a blithe, "Nope! What's that?"

Most fellow Systems I've met through indicating in some of my published writing that A Character has DID (right now, it's my Merlin character in an Odyssey/Celtic Mythology fic I've been publishing since last December) and that I myself am representing the condition because I have it too is one of the few ways to actually make contact with people that understand me, or get their engagement in my writing at all, because most people with DID inherently distrust anything that claims to "represent" us that isn't written or vetted by someone that has it, or someone that has legitimate personal or professional experience with it.

I've spoken with students that are studying psychology or just have an armchair fascination with the concept of DID, but don't even think to ask questions about things that I live with on a regular basis. I've never once had anyone ask me as simple a question as, "How do romantic relationships work for you in real life when you have multiple people in your brain?" (Answer: They don't. I gave up on the possibility of being loved a long time ago)

To be completely honest, I'm the only person that chooses to live openly with DID that I've ever encountered so far, and a lot of it is because so many of us out there live in absolute, pant-shitting terror of being identified and persecuted. I myself have lost friends and family members who learned of my DID and began to stipulate how my alters and I were and were not allowed to behave (based upon stereotypes they'd seen in the media/been taught by their religion and nothing to do with how I'd actually treated them before), which is an unreasonable and unfair demand to make of a System. I have lost partnerships with a person I loved for more than 20 years because he could not understand that insisting, "I'm dating you, not your alters," is not only a misguided and patently false statement, but one that also makes demands of me I can't maintain and whittles me down to a very 2-dimensional version of myself. I've had religious family members and friends give me ultimatums that I had to "get rid of" my alters that present as demonic, and not-so-subtly suggested I commit suicide to send my demonic alters "back to hell where they belong."

So, yeah. I myself will not read or watch works that are supposed to represent DID through a character or multiple characters unless I already know that an expert or someone with it has vetted the work first. I am not the only System that does it, either.

No, it's not fair to put that kind of a gate up around embracing potential forms of positive representation, but I've been traumatized too many times by taking things on faith and being burned for it. My alters have been traumatized by it, too.

No, not every content creator and author should have to advertise, "It's okay that [Character] has [Condition] because I do," but there are some conditions that, by their very nature, cause the people with them to fear and mistrust media that tries to represent them and wind up avoiding it completely rather than even giving the work a peek. Most of the time, it's done in a harmful way that perpetuates extremely negative stereotypes, or false facts that are made up and popularized by "influencers" on platforms like TikTok that are really just malingering and spreading false information that leads to more harmful interactions for people like us.

For some communities, sometimes the only way to get people to talk to you or engage with your creations is to signal that you're part of the community in some way. Because most of the content creators in this world have already done us so dirty that it's the only way to trust that some representation of us will actually be kind.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[cblgblog]

Endgame Steggy: Planned or an afterthought? D'ya think they would've changed Agent Carter if they'd known it was going to end the way it did? What d'you think it meant to Peggy in that moment to have that back, with everything that had happened?(Not sure how you feel about character studies??)

I’m a slut for character studies, first off.

I wouldn’t say planned, but definitely not afterthought either. I think it’s pretty well documented at this point that nobody expected Hayley to be as good as she was in the role, and consequently for Peggy to take off as she did as a character. I think they went into First Avenger with every intention of leaving her behind, more or less, but you can’t predict while writing a script who will play the parts, whether there will be chemistry or not, whether the public will like a thing or not.

Per Cap 2, I think they went into it with the intent of Staron being a thing. Peggy in the comics is, historically, the less significant one as far as being a partner to Steve. Winter Soldier was still (relatively) early in MCU history, especially when you consider that it was probably written a couple years before it came out. They were still figuring out, I think, what thy were doing, how much to stick to the source material, how much they could stray, etc.

Here's what I know for sure—or as much as you can know anything for sure in these matters: When they wrote Cap 2, they did not know yet what Cap 3 would be. There was a lot going on in Cap 2. They were sewing the seeds of Staron, probably thought they’d have more screen time to follow up on that in Cap 3. Obviously that didn’t happen,3 ended up being even more packed with Other Things than 2, so we get this weird, dangly thing that yeah, the Staron shippers have a right to be pissed off about.

I think they went in with the intent of Staron, but it got pushed aside by other plot threads, and yes, by public opinion, to an extent. I also think that blaming Steggy shippers for MCU writing choices is asinine, but that’s another conversation. There was always going to be a certain level of weirdness involved, no matter what they did, because of the related aspect. That just, there were always going to be people who found that weird regardless of how good the acting was, or how good the story was. EVC was great, she was never the issue. For whatever reason, like so many MCU women before her and after her, she wasn’t given the material she deserved. They potentially could’ve made Staron into a more popular ship, but they botched it/abandoned it. Those who thought the Carter relation was weird were only going to find it weirder that the kiss happened right after Peggy’s funeral, and with a line the writers themselves associated with Steggy.

So, they botched it. I also think they genuinely were more interested in the Steggy relationship, ultimately. That’s speculation, but this was a character from movie 1 that they probably had an attachment to already, and then that character becomes a bit more of a thing than anyone expected.

I don’t think Steve was meant to be the husband when they wrote those scenes in Cap 2. I do think that one or both writers probably always had that what if aspect in the back of their minds, what if we found a way to make this happen someday? Especially after Agent Carter got picked up, further validating the character.

Which brings me to the show. To my knowledge, Feige and Co. had very little to do with AC. M&M wrote the first ep, helped develop the show, but as I understand it, Marvel the movies and Marvel the TV shows were very much separate beasts at that time. Which is why  AoS and the Netflix shows were so thoroughly ignored for so long, and why Feige doesn’t ever want to count them as canon, because he didn’t run the show there. It’s not like it is now with Disney+, where the latest batch of shows is so heavily integrated into the films, and vice-versa.

So, I think the ABC people had minimal knowledge about MCU plans, first of all. They wouldn’t have known Steggy was endgame (pun intended) when they wrote the finale. I don’t think the MCU people knew it then either, even if they had had more input into the show. I also think you have to remember that the finale wasn’t written as a series finale. They wanted another season. They left doors open for another season, they just didn’t get one. So you can’t look at 2x10 as their definitive version of the end of that part in Peggy’s story, because it was never meant to be that, at all.

Would they have changed the ending if they knew what Endgame would do? Probably, but they also would’ve changed a whole lot of things about the finale if they’d known at the time it would be the finale.

What did It mean to Peggy to have Steve back after everything?

Everything. You can see it in her face in that last scene. It meant everything.

[inkedtae]

doe’s peak ⇾ ksj. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ gryffindor!seokjin x slytherin!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ e2l, hogwarts au, some fluff, a bit of angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  a series of reckless pranks leads to a dismissal from Hogwarts and a new house guest. two weeks of amity sessions ends on a happier note than expected. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 20.1k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ brief mention of a fire, brief mention of theft, blonde!seokjin, longhair/ponytail!seokjin, pureblood!seokjin, dom!seokjin, brat tamer!seokjin, halfblood(?)!reader, sub!reader, brat!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, hate sex, degradation, mutual masterbation, double penatration, exhibition, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, heavy humiliation kink, use of vibrating dildo, oral (m. and f. receiving), orgasm denial, bondage, begging, hair pulling, spanking, pussy slapping, manhandling, fingering, edging, cum eating, face fucking, deep-throating, throat-cockwarming (?), cum swapping (?), panty eating (?), a bit of anal, a lil ass and titty play, spit play, a lil food play, basically filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this was supposed to be a fluffy drabble...

･ﾟﾟ･｡ beta’d by ⇾ @kitsutaes​ (my luff~) & @moonmintrails​ (my soulmate~)

･ﾟﾟ･｡ le playlist

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

He smells of tough cedar and sweet cherries. It’s common for his scent to fill the room after a bath. You want to say you despise it but, in fact, you find it quite comforting. It always helps lull you to sleep. You fear that you might have grown too comfortable with it. The last two weeks of his very presence have been much of a bother, but it’s the little things, like the way he smells and the soft patters of his footsteps, that almost make you glad he’s around. You wonder how you’ll be able to fall asleep without him after tomorrow. 

Two weeks flew by. You’ve been praying for that reality since Headmistress McGonagall first suggested this arrangement. Both you and Seokjin have been excused from classes for fourteen days, issued off campus and into your home in the muggle world. Magic is prohibited, wands confiscated, but the two of you are still expected to keep up with your class readings and assignments should you both return to Hogwarts. 

“Spending intimate time with one another without the temptation of magic will put an end to all these shenanigans,” McGonagall insisted. 

Despite the reality of sharing your home and room with someone as insufferable as Kim Seokjin, you're thankful the headmistress didn’t opt for a more serious consequence. After all, you are still under investigation for the fire in the Gryffindor dormitories. Records reflect that it started in Seokjin’s room and witnesses place you at the scene of the crime. And the fact that you’ve admitted to being there, reclaiming letters Seokjin had stolen from you, doesn’t help your case. McGonagall promises to share the results of the investigation once your two weeks with Seokjin come to an end. 

A fire was never your intention. Truly, all you wanted was the year’s worth of letters from your family Seokjin kept intercepting. Before finding out he was behind it, you were convinced your family was upset with you. You’ve written to them consistently, telling them you miss them and wondering why they haven’t responded. You found stacks of letters, some opened and read, in his room. You had every intention of sneaking back in at night and levitating his bed into the lake while he’s sleeping as a means of retaliation. Though you were worried he’d found out about your family, about the truth, a fire never even crossed your mind. You’re almost certain you had blown all the candles out before leaving. 

Twirling the gold, snake headed pendant of your necklace between your fingers, you wonder if maybe you left one lit subconsciously. Maybe a part of you wanted to set his room on fire, wanted him to suffer as you did when you thought your family was on the cusp of disowning you. 

These are dangerous thoughts. You can’t be capable of such destruction. Yes, you might have charmed his broom to launch him into the lake, or dyed his hair blonde through a potion “mistake,” but to set his room on fire is cruel. No matter how badly you want him to keep your secret or how badly you want to get even, you know you would never turn to such an evil act.

With a deep breath, you flip the page of your History of Magic textbook, and attempt to refocus your attention on the Battle of Hogwarts. You try to drown out every sound he makes down the hall, every waft of his scent that trickles into your room. All is well until he decides to enter your shared room without a shirt. Only a simple red towel hangs around his thin waist. 

You can’t help but stare. Little droplets stream down his wide chest. Nipples hard; abs tight. You regret to recognize how heavenly he looks. A breathless sigh escapes you as he shakes a smaller towel through his long hair. More drops of water spatter about, but your attention narrows on his arms. Has he always been that muscular? 

A single scan over his tall frame soaks your panties. You curse him three times over, having just changed into them. You were clean and ready for bed before he came in looking like that. Damp hair in a loose braid, a soft, flowy nightgown on, face primped and moisturized. All that was left for you to do was some light reading of next week’s topic. Then he comes in, basically naked and wet, making your pussy clench at the sight. Can’t he do anything right? Why the hell didn’t he get dressed in the bathroom? 

“Why the hell didn’t you get dressed in the bathroom?”

Seokjin spares you a glance over his shoulder as he walks out to hang the small towel on the railing. You can’t help but drool over the flexing muscles of his back. Hate fills your chest at the awakened desire to run your tongue across the length of his shoulders. 

“I forgot to take my clothes,” he shrugs, making his way back into the room. He shuts the door and begins to rummage around the drawers Mama forced you to empty for him. 

You mutter a colourful insult under your breath as he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel. The thought of taking them back off doesn’t surprise you as much as the act of leaning off your bed to sneak a look at his dick. Heat rushes to your cheeks the moment you register your actions. What the hell has gotten into you? Shifting back in your seat, you press your thighs together to attempt to soothe the ache between your legs. 

What has come over you? You’ve seen shirtless guys before, been under a few of them too. Not to mention, this is Seokjin. The arrogant, conceded idiot who stole your letters all year and read them. You hate him, you know every part of you does. So why is the sight of him shirtless this captivating?

No, you mentally assert. It’s not Seokjin you’re attracted to; it’s the idea of a shirtless guy - any guy. You’ve been isolated in your house with a daft, alpaca looking pureblood and his pet sugar glider (which is against school rules but he manages to keep one anyways.) You just miss sex. All you have to do is get yourself off and all other thoughts of stupid, shirtless Seokjin will disappear. You decide that once he goes to sleep, you’ll, as quietly as you can, get yourself off under the covers. 

Your jaw almost drops when he doesn’t reach for a shirt or pants. Seokjin shuts the drawers and tosses the wet towel that was previously wrapped around his waist in the hamper. The nerve of this fucker. He prances around your room in only his underwear, acting like this is his house, not yours. You set your jaw and raise an unimpressed brow.

When his gaze meets yours, you can’t help but glare. He doesn’t entertain your annoyed antics as he usually does. With heavy eyes and a little yawn, he grumbles, “Shove over.”

You scoff. “Funny.”

“I mean it,” he sighs, flicking up the covers. “I’ve spent the last two weeks on the floor. I earned my time on this bed.”

A hiss escapes you as the cold air hits your smushed, exposed thighs. You snatch the sheets from his hands and cover yourself up again. “That’s ‘cause it’s my bed.” 

“Just move over.”

“No.”

Seokjin waves his hand, effortlessly pushing your body aside. With your wands confiscated, the most the two of you can do is wave little commands to practise magic. Before you can react with more than just a gasp, he hops into bed and makes himself comfortable. “Much better,” he smirks. 

You can feel his bare legs brush up against yours, but ignore the rise of goosebumps long enough to kick him away. “You’re a fiend, Kim Seokjin. A pureblooded, bottom feeding, prideful... jerk-ing fiend.” You may have stuttered through the last insult, catching yourself getting lost in his eyes, but you believe you’ve made your point clear. 

“Prideful jerking?” Seokjin questions with an amused smile. He quirks his head to the side and sighs. 

He opens his mouth to offer his opinion but you silence him with the slam of your book and a switch off the lights by the wave of your hand. You know he’s not leaving. He doesn’t even make an effort to move. There’s not much to do except ignore his entire existence and try to get some sleep. Accepting the fate of your night, you set your textbook on your night table and turn to your side with every intention of falling asleep. 

But then the bed dips. You raise a brow, thinking he might’ve come to his senses and decided to return to his place on the ground. Only, his side of the bed doesn’t feel lighter. The springs screech as he shifts until the quiet clutter of a soft object hits the hardwood floor. 

You hear him spit. Once, twice then the slick sound of slouched wetness fills the room. Breath hitching, you turn back to find him sitting up, back against the headboard and briefless. “Huge,” you whisper, too fixated on his size to even care about his quiet, arrogant chuckles. 

You knew Seokjin invented big dick energy, but to see his size, in the fucking dark, and still fear for your pussy is another story. Huge doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re sure giants don’t even have a cock as big as he does. It isn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen; it’s just quite simply the biggest cock to exist. 

“How’d you know I was into being watched?” He asks as he continues to pump himself. 

His gruff voice, drenched in lust, has you balling your nightgown. You sit up and pull your knees into your chest, squeezing your legs together. He must be insane, deranged, absolutely idiotic to think he can take up half your fucking bed and then whip out his monster of a cock and expect everything to be okay. 

Pussy clenching around emptiness, you reply, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Prideful jerking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

His hips buckle up into his hands and you can’t help but stare down at his cock again. You swallow thickly, hating the way you crave for his cock to fill that vacant space in your throat. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

You answer too quickly. The desperate desire in your tone, the crack of your voice has not been lost on him. He chuckles to himself and picks up the pace. You can only hover your trembling fingers over your lips, clutch onto your nightgown with your other hand and watch him get himself off with pride. 

His large hand wraps around yours, grabbing onto the hem of your nightgown as well. You stiffen. Gazing at him in the soft moonlight, you wonder if he’d make you take over the task of getting him off. You wonder if he’ll guide your hand over his cock and show you how to pace your pumps, or if he’ll have you cup his balls and massage them while he continues to bring himself closer to his orgasm. 

But, he doesn’t entertain any of those options. Seokjin, instead, rubs your knuckles and whispers, “I don’t just like being watched; I like watching too.” He then pries the bunched up hem out of your hands and pushes it up to your hips. “Panties off.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you hiss, breasts heaving from how horny this entire situation is making you. “I’m keeping them on.”

Seokjin raises a brow, as if offering one last chance for you to change your mind. When you simply hold his gaze, he nods and covers himself up again. You can tell he’s still going though, the lifts of the comforter being a dead give away. 

“What are you doing?”

“This is a two way street, Little Doe,” he taunts before dragging his tongue across your cheek. You shudder and melt into his frame as he continues, “You’re going to have to give a little to get some.”

A series of insults are on the tip of your tongue, but the stripe of saliva on your cheek is all you can focus on. You want him to do it again, the shame of that craving clear on your face. Seokjin can read right through the glare you then attempt to wear. He grunts quietly as that amused look colours his features. 

You can still hear the wet clicks of his pumps, the squeak of the springs when he rolls his hips in his hand. Gulping, you emptily gag on the ghostly imagination of his huge length squeezing into your throat.

He chuckles under his breath. The sound is all too cocky for your liking, jumpstarting your senses once more. 

“You’re a fucking prick,” you finally hiss.

“I know you want my dick.”

“You know that’s not what I said.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “You didn’t deny it though, did you?”

You want to curse him, hit him, suck him, screw him- no… A little ride wouldn’t hurt, though. A string of sparkling shivers slither up your spine at the thought of sitting on his cock. Nails in those broad shoulders, tits against his chest, ass smacking his thick thighs.

He smirks. He’s waiting. 

Nothing can hold back the pooling wetness of your core, and you refuse to deny it for much longer. Hooking your thumbs into your panties, you lift your hips and shimmy out of them. You’re about to toss them aside when Seokjin nudges your chin. He nods towards your mouth, silently ordering you to shove them in. 

“You can’t be serious,” you sigh, voice almost pleading. It’s not enough he’s having you follow orders, but to make you suck on your own soaked panties is just cruel. 

He only shrugs. You’re not even worth his words now. The humiliation is getting harder to ignore, your pussy gushing for it with every passing second. With a tiny huff, you shove your panties into your mouth. You taste dirty. You feel it too. But, he finally pulls the sheets back once more, letting you know you’ve earned the treat. A twinge of pride replaces the embarrassment. 

Pink tipped, oozing precum, his massive cock slightly curves. You can’t help the satisfied sigh that escapes you. Fingers latching on your pussy, you swirl your wetness around your clit. You’re about to shove two fingers in, eyes locked on his length to catch his warning glare, but he stops you. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses. 

You furrow your brows as if wordlessly asking how the fuck he thinks you can watch him and not be able to finger yourself. You need something in you. He ignores your stares, the little grunts you let out in protest and shifts your fingers back up to your clit. 

The curses you want to hurl at him get muffled into your panties. He knows this too well, that smirk on his lips only widening. And though you believe you can do whatever the fuck you want, you keep your fingers around your clit. You’ll take any amount of friction at this point. 

“Oh, you can spit that out now,” he shrugs. 

You pause. Wasn’t the point of the panties in your mouth to make sure you’re quiet? Seokjin ignores your confused looks, leaning his head back against the headboard. As you drop your panites out of your mouth, his true intentions finally settle upon you. It was never about silencing you, but about humiliating you. Every word he’s uttered since whipping his massive cock out has been an order, all of which you’ve eventually followed. 

You glare at him, finally meeting his eye as he lazily looks over at you. “Is everything a game to you?” 

Seokjin dips his head into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head up without much thought. His teeth graze your skin, warm tongue soon following to soothe those little bites he leaves behind. You whimper and shudder with every hot breath he fans over you.

How is he doing this so easily? Your fingers pick up their pace with every new jolt of pleasure his mouth brings. 

“Slow down,” he whispers while trailing wet kisses along your jawline.

Your mind wants to rebel and rub your clit with twice as much speed and force. However, your body yields to his commands, complying to his every order. You huff angrily, finding yourself defenseless against him. As a weak act of defiance, you rest your leg over his. 

He grins. His free hand rubs your inner thigh, making you regret your actions instantly. With every stroke up and down your leg, your pussy only gets wetter, needier for his hand. Your eyes flutter shut, body trembles as you begrudgingly submit your entire being to him. 

“Touch me,” you plead. 

Seokjin tightens his hold on your thigh. “And what do you call this, Little Doe?”

You whine, forcing your eyes open to meet his gaze. Noses brushing, breaths exchanging, your lips hover over one another. You force your hand off your clit and bite back a mewl from the lost contact. “Touch me,” you repeat, voice only just cracking. 

For once, his amused demeanour is nowhere to be found. Seokjin creases all movements. He pauses for a second, scanning your features, then drops his gaze between your legs. In deep thought, he bites his lip. You can’t help the cold vacancy around your pussy, hips slightly rolling up for attention. Seokjin takes your wrist and guides your wet hand to his cock. “Slowly,” he advises. 

Fingers hovering over his huge length, you nod. A squeal escapes you as you stroke him. Just from those gentle touches, you can feel how heavy he is. Hand trembling, you wrap your fingers around him and slowly pump. 

He sighs against your cheek. You hate how proud you feel, but the kisses he places near your lips distract you enough to melt into him. 

“Who knew you were such a good girl?”

“Shut up,” you snap, though your pace on his cock remains steady. 

Seokjin trails his fingers up your thigh, to your wetness. You moan upon feeling his fingers circle around your clit. “You’re even wetter than you look,” he whispers.

“I said, shut up.”

A sharp slap to your clit draws a yelp out of you. Though you glare at him, tightening your grip on his cock, he only continues with the smacks. Each one is harder than the last, forcing you to pull your legs to your chest once more. 

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours. “Be a good girl, Little Doe, and spread’em.”  

You pout and nudge back. Seokjin presses his lips together, holding back whatever laughter you’ve provoked, then pushes his mouth against yours. The fact that you don’t hesitate to kiss him back surprises you. Up until now, all you thought you wanted was a quick fuck. Now, you can’t imagine how you’ve resisted the urge to kiss him for so long. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, taking control almost immediately. You want to say you’re annoyed but you love the way it feels around yours too much to fight against him any longer.

Slowly, you spread your legs once more. He lands one last smack on your clit then soothes the blissful stinging away by circling his fingers around your pussy again. He’s moving his hand faster than yours, making you moan against his lips. 

Seokjin pulls away with a smirk as your moans suddenly tumble into the room instead of his mouth. He laughs while you glare. “Aw, come on, Little Doe,” he purrs. “Aren’t you having fun?”

You pout, biting back moans, and pick up the pace of your pumps around his cock. If he wants to play, you have no problem doing the same thing. His hips buckle into your hand. You’re smirking now... until his hand moves faster. You follow his lead, picking up your pace as he picks up his. 

Lowly growling, Seokjin clenches his jaw. “Fucking slut,” he grunts. 

“Fucking prick,” you shoot back. However, your insult loses umph with every whining dip in your voice.

That amused look in his eyes is no more. His gaze hardens into something more sinister as he seethes, “Cum.”

You gasp as your hips roll into his hand. “You cum,” you huff. 

“Cum!”

“Cum…” Your voice may be losing its strength and authority, but the look in your eyes remains as cold as ever. 

Seokjin grins. He must feel your hole clenching, must sense how you’ve been tightening around emptiness, needy for a release. Does he know how horny that rasp in his authoritative voice makes you too? Does he know you’ll most likely be dreaming about him tonight from how his scent has imprinted itself on you?

“You’re pathetic.”

You really fucking are. How quickly did you give into him again? Are you needy to cum or needy for him? Your eyes slightly roll back as your toes curl. You’re getting closer; he’s bringing you closer. Can you really be to blame for yielding so quickly, though? He disarms your confidence within a few words. It feels like you were only cussing him out seconds ago for ordering you to take your panties off. And yet, here you are, on the cusp of cumming because he told you to. 

Body quaking, you throw your head back and bite on your lip to keep from screaming his name. Your ograsm hits you hard and quick. Riling beside him, you’ve lost control of your hand around his cock. Your pumps hesitate, losing momentum and speed. Seokjin finds himself having to warp his free hand around yours to make sure he gets off as well. 

Your ears are ringing, blood rushing to your head as you gush some more around emptiness. You pretend you’re stuffed though. You imagine his cock deep in, the imprint of his girth bulging from your stomach as you cum. You’re angry with him, with yourself, with how good all this feels. In the midst of uttering a curse, you feel a warm, thick shot of his cum land across your face. Another load paints your breasts and stains your nightgown. 

Seokjin’s panting, grunting, trying his best to stay quiet as well. Your hands retract from each other within seconds of riding the other out. You shudder from the last leaks of your orgasm and pull your legs into yourself. All the while, he’s resting his head back and palming himself. As his eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but stare. He looks just as heavenly post-orgasm. A light layer of sweat glistens on his forehead, wet lips seeming kissable one more. 

His breathing regulates as he looks over at you. Nothing can fight off your frustration at the sight of that lazy smirk on his face. He points up to his own nose and says, “You got a little somethin- Ow!” 

You grunt a smirk after swatting his arm. “Clean it off,” you order between breaths. “Now.”

He raises a brow. “You wanted it so bad. You clean it off.”

“That’s not what I said I wanted.” 

Seokjin licks his lips to fight off a smile. “Did you or did you not tell me to cum?”

“By that stupid logic, you have a mess down there you need to clean too.” 

To your surprise, he nods. Seokjin shifts, repositioning himself so that he’s in front of you. His strong hands wrap around your ankles and pull them apart before yanking you towards him. 

You gasp and fall back into your pillow, looking up at him in astonishment. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning up my mess,” he shrugs. As he dips his head between your legs, he says with a wink, “I suggest you do the same.”

There’s barely enough time to breath, let alone clean his cum off you, before his tongue latches onto your pussy. He slurps up your cum with vigor, shaking his head between your thighs. Lapping up your juices, sucking on your clit, he seems to change his intention from cleaning up his mess to creating a new one. 

Your fingers tangle into his blonde hair, tugging on the long strands as he peeks up at you. Upon finding you’ve done nothing but relish in the sensation of his warm tongue, Seokjin pulls his mouth away from your pussy. You lift your hips up, whining and mewling quietly in hopes that he’d find you just cute enough to continue. 

Seokjin pokes his tongue between the gaps of his teeth. In silence, he waits. You know what he wants, but you can’t find it in you to follow another order. He’s somehow managed to melt you into agreeing to every command. You’d rather suck him off than scoop his cum off your face and swallow it. 

“Do it.”

“No.” 

He huffs. His entire chest puffs out, shoulders rolling back as he leers over you. That usually glint of amusement dissolves into annoyance. “Do it,” he whispers. Though his voice may be quiet, tone soft, his eyes are unforgiving. It’s clear this is your last chance.

You don’t care. “No.”

He’s hovering over you. All you did was blink and he’s hovering over you. Hot, short breaths fan over your face. His tip pokes your lower belly. You’re trembling. His tongue shoots out, swiping across your face. One of his hands shoots to your chin, thumb pushing it down to open your mouth. He gathers some spit with his cum then drops the load into your mouth. 

Your right eye twitches, only just rolling back from the taste. You swallow almost immediately and force yourself to ignore the recoiling disappointment of your heart at how easily you give in even after putting up a sad excuse of a fight. 

Seokjin repeats the process, licking up the cum across your cleavage now. He pulls down the neckline of your nightgown to make sure he gets every drop. Again, he spits it into your mouth. And, again, you swallow. 

You think it’s over now. He has licked up every drop of cum off your skin, after all. But, Seokjin isn’t satisfied until you’ve swallowed it all. He cups your breasts, pushing them up to tighten your gown and licks the cum off it easier. You swallow without hesitation when he spits it into your mouth. 

Both his hands come down on your breasts. You jolt, biting your lip to keep from crying out a moan. “Next time,” he starts, groping and massaging your tits. “I won’t be so leintant.”

With your hands over your head, you quietly moan, reveling in the sweet action. You nod to his pathetic warning, knowing that in the end you’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Yet, you can’t find the courage to tell him that. 

Seokjin ceases all soft massages and tears your gown. You gasp and grip onto his wrists while looking down at your now exposed breasts.

“What the hell?” You whine in a whisper. 

He only smirks before returning to his side of the bed again. Making himself comfortable, he replies, “Sleep well, Little Doe.”

You scoff. He must think you won’t take the gown off, even if it were torn. You can’t fall asleep now knowing he has the upper hand. Sitting up, you pull the night gown off and toss it aside. Seokjin, having one arm tucked under his head, watches you with an amused smile. His eyes devour every exposed inch of you. As you lie back down, you realize you’ve played right into his trap once more. He wanted you just as naked as him. 

“You make it too easy,” he chuckles. 

“You really are a prick.”

He quirks a brow. “Funny. I don’t see you putting it back on if I’m such a prick.” 

You don’t want it on. He knows that. You sure as hell know that. But admitting it would only make that festering anger in the pit of your stomach bubble into your chest. “Just go to sleep, Jin,” you mutter, turning away from him. 

You want to believe that your bed has never felt more uneven, uncomfortable, unwelcoming, but you know that’s not the case. You’ve never felt warmer than with Seokjin beside you. His body by yours has been a better comfort than the emptiness you usually find back there. Does he feel it too? Is that why he was adamant on you watching him, joining him, swallowing him? Or was it all just another power play? 

He shifts behind you. You stiffen, chewing on your lip. His hand, hesitant and shaky, snakes across your waist. It freezes against your stomach. You gulp and flutter your eyes shut as you rest your arm over his. It’s as though that’s all the confirmation he needs to pull you back into his chest. Steady breaths tickling the nape of your neck, you allow yourself to lean into him. 

You tell yourself it’s the exhaustion. But the truth lies behind you, cradling your body against his. Lacing your fingers between his, you whisper, “This never happened.” 

Seokjin presses a ghost of a kiss upon the nape of your neck. “Whatever you say, Little Doe.”

The clucks of the hens and spray of the tap cannot drown out his infuriating laughter. He sounds like a choked seal, squealing chuckles uncontrollably. It’s embarrassing. He should be kicked out on that basis alone. 

You watch him chat up Mama and one of your aunties by the kitchen island. He makes another one of those stupid puns and they eat it up. Mama throws her head back, laughing along with him. Auntie Hyel chuckles and shakes her head before joining the rest of your family, your four uncles and Baba, outside. It’s as if this dismissal from Hogwarts was not at all his fault. Mama treats him like the son she never had. Laughing at his jokes, feeding him leftover egg and beef from her kimbap rolls; it’s disgraceful. They should both be ashamed of themselves. Everyone living in this house who has even given into his charms should be ashamed of themselves.

You shudder at last night’s memories, knowing you’re one of those people in this house now.

“Morning, dear,” Mama smiles upon finally spotting you on the staircase. 

Seokjin turns to face you, that prideful smirk plastered on his all too handsome face. Yes, you realize the cruel oddities of reality. Someone as horrible as Seokjin gets graced with undeniable beauty and you, with your kind heart and good intentions, are offered mediocrity.

He leans his elbows back on the counter. “Little Doe.”

The nickname hits differently now. Phantom shivers trail your spine upon hearing echos from last night. He purred that name one too many times to sit the same again. It used to twist your insides with disgust. But now all you can feel are nervous bursts of desire, and a yearning for his touch and presence like no other. 

“Shut it, you gerbil,” you hiss as you make the final step down the stairs. 

Your eyes lock on his lips, ghostly sensations of last night’s session all too fresh to ignore. Is it wrong to want them on yours again? Yes. He’s filthy, you remind yourself. Filthy with pride and an ego just as big as his dick. A huff escapes you as your hatred for him resurfaces. It takes everything in you not to shove him off his seat and take it instead. You know better than to do that in front of Mama. She’d smack the both of you with that wooden spoon by her side within seconds. 

Mama tsks at your name-calling when you take your seat. You meet her warning stare with caution. As you mutter a half-hearted apology, she sets a fresh cup of tea before you. Much like this morning, you drink the tea in small sips. 

“Thanks, Mama,” you mumble against the rim of the cup. 

Seokjin stares at you and smiles, “Yeah, Mama, thanks.”

You clench your jaw, keeping your eyes trained on the bento lunch boxes Mama prepares for your last amity meeting with Seokjin and Professor Trelawney. Since the two of you have met with your professor, you’ve broken every rule set by her. Insults are hurled consistently, taunts are made, threats are promised. The only thing the two of you haven’t done is prank each other. It’s too risky and the both of you can’t tolerate another second cut off from your friends. 

“Do you two think you can keep the teasing to a minimum today?” Mama asks as she wraps each box. “The headmistress is dropping by after lunch to tell you if you’ll be returning to Hogwarts.”

You furrow your brows as you set the teacup down. Seokjin turns to face Mama with the same expression. “What do you mean? I thought that after the amity sessions, we’d be able to go back.”

Mama avoids your gaze as she tucks a set of chopsticks under the wrapped knot. “Well, the amity sessions are not the only thing the headmistress has been looking into, (Y/N). You still have that fire to answer for.”

“This again,” you roll your eyes. Mama glares at you. “Sorry, it’s just you know I didn’t start it. Even Jin knows I didn’t.”

Seokjin remains silent, looking down at his cup of coffee. Mama looks between you and him then raises a brow. “I think poor Jin’s been through enough,” she coos at him before rubbing his shoulder. 

This is unbelievable. You’ve never really talked to him about it, but you just knew that he couldn’t possibly think that little of you, especially after last night. You know what you said, what you indirectly made him promise, but your words can’t erase that memory. Or, at least, it hasn’t for you. And now Mama is coddling him from you. You’re apparently the monster in his life, the conniving serpent that has plagued him and set fire to his stupid dorm. 

Up until now, you’ve regretted snooping around in his room for your letters, regretted even setting foot in his common room. You know you didn’t start that fire, but you’d be happy if you did. It’s the least he deserves for cutting you off from your family and now stealing them right from under you. 

Tilting your head back, you chug whatever is left of your tea. It scorches your tongue, but nothing burns more than the betrayal in your heart. Hopping off your seat, you set the teacup in the sink to be washed by the sponges you’d charmed. Mama senses your shift in demeanour and follows you to the broom closet. 

“He misses his family too, you know,” she says as you grab your broom. “Don’t you remember what it was like to not have your family with you?”

You shut the closet, not bothering to grab Seokjin’s broom for him, and turn to face Mama. “You mean when he stole my letters? He’s the one that should be investigated. You know I didn’t start-”

Mama places her hands on your shoulders, silencing you immediately. To your surprise, she pulls you into her chest and hugs you tightly. “Please, (Y/N),” she whispers. 

You’re not sure what she’s asking of you but you nod anyways. To show her to really understand, the moment she pulls away from you, you open the closet once more and grab his broom as well. She smiles and places a sweet kiss upon your forehead. 

Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, Mama guides you back into the kitchen. “You two take care now,” she smiles. 

You hand Seokjin his broom. He doesn’t even have the decency to thank you. “You’re welcome,” you bitterly spit under your breath. 

He ignores you. 

Mama is halfway up the stairs when she calls out to the both of you to have a great day. You grab your lunch and backpack then make your way to the door. Mounting on your broom, you don’t bother to wait for him and commence your last flight to Witching Wits, a wizarding cafe in the small muggle town nearby. 

Gusts of the wind and the scent of asphalt fills the space between you and Seokjin as you enter the little town. Your brooms are charmed to cloak you in with your environment so you’re invisible to a muggle’s eye. Seokjin doesn’t bother to race you to the roof of the cafe as he usually does. He hasn’t even so much as tossed you a look of any kind. You slow down just to give him a reason to speed up, but he doesn’t take the bait. And when you finally reach the rooftop, and dismount off your brooms, he doesn’t tap the edge of his broom on the green bricked chimney. 

You raise a brow. A line of questioning already forms in your mind, but you decide against voicing it. You don’t care, and why should you? He was the only that brought you into this mess, made you dive into every impulse. This time you’re going to go against your desires and curiosity. Tapping rhythmically on the edge of the chimney, the bricks shift into stairs that descend into the cafe. You lead the way in, not bothering to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s behind you. You’ve had enough of him already. Besides, his footsteps are a clear sign that he’s following along just fine. 

Professor Trelawney is late… again. She hasn’t been on time since these sessions began. You’ve never hated moments alone with Seokjin more than you did today. Wordlessly, you place your broom on the rack by the entrance and find an empty table in the corner. 

The routine is simple enough and you hate to think you’ve grown comfortable with it. You sit across from each other. Notebooks out, quills in hand or laying by an empty page, and Marina, the morning shift’s waitress, jumping back and forth from the counter to your table because she can’t seem to remember that neither of you have ordered anything. 

“Actually,” Seokjin cuts in when you decline to see a menu. “I’ll have a butterbeer with a shot of espresso.”

Face scrunched in disgust, you push past his revolting order and say, “But you already had coffee at home.”

Home. Is it his home? He blinks at the word, furrowing his brows at you. He sure has made it into his home; charming your family, taking your bed, eating your food. 

“I want another,” he shrugs once that disarmed look in his eye disappears. “How about we pretend I never had one to begin with. Would that make you feel better?”

Fear flushes whatever expression previously took over your features. You arch a brow and ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin shrugs. He sits back and twirls his quill between his fingers, watching you carefully. 

You cross your legs, draping the short, flowy shirt of your white dress over your thigh. “It must’ve meant something, or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Does that same logic apply to actions?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to now. Pursing your lips, you bite back any insults that are begging to be thrown at him. Instead of giving into the subject he’s adamant on discussing, you bring up one he’s been avoiding since your arrival. “What was the point in stealing my letters?”

“I could ask you the same question about the fire.”

You huff. Why must he be this difficult? “You know I didn’t start it.”

His shoulders rise and fall again. Those shrugs are starting to really test your patience. On the cusp of tossing Mama’s advice out the window, Professor Trelawney's clunky footsteps echo down the brick staircase. Before she can make her way to your table, you lean in and whisper, “I hate you, I really do, but I’d never put you in that sort of danger, Jin. I’m not deranged.” With how much time you’ve spent thinking about his lips this morning, you might rethink that last claim, but you stay firm on your words. 

Seokjin tilts his head and quirks a brow at your last statement. You throw him a blank stare as Professor Trelawney makes her way towards your table. 

“I know,” he whispers. 

He knows. He knows and you’re still under investigation. Has he told McGonagall this? If he vouches for you then you can’t possibly lose your place at Hogwarts. You don’t have much time to ask him, however, as Professor Trelawney drops her heavy bag on the table. 

“Ah, Morning!” she smiles. Her eyes widen with delight behind those thick rimmed glasses. You hesitantly smile back, sneaking a glance at Seokjin. 

He replies with a quiet, “Good morning, Professor,” before meeting your gaze again. The usual cocky remark, arrogant approach, and amused looks are absent from his, dare you think, kind face. He seems so genuine in his stare that you almost regret asking him to forget about last night. You clearly haven’t. 

Marina returns with Seokjin’s order as Professor Trelawney takes a seat and pulls out her calming crystals. “Oh, is that a butterbeer with an espresso shot?” She asks with curious eyes. Before Marina can confirm, Professor Trelawney says, “I’ll have one too.” 

Seokjin throws you a cocky smirk. A silent “I told you so,” dances in his gaze. You roll your eyes and sit back in your seat. 

As Professor Trelawney continues to line up the crystals, she suggests starting these sessions as you always have. “Deep breath in then out and let the other know something you admire about them.”

You share an annoyed look with Seokjin, sighing deeply when he refuses to start... again. He always pulls the quiet card, knowing you’ll be the first to lose your patience and say something that gets mistaken as an effort to get the ball rolling. 

“Very good, Miss (L/N),” your professor smiles. “But this time add something you like about Mr. Kim.”

You don’t bother correcting her. Instead, you sit up straight and take a deep breath in. On the exhale you say, “I really admire the way you always test my patience.”

Seokjin glares. He inhales deeply then lets out, “I really admire the way you never let things go.”

Marina returns with Professor Trelawney’s order and they share a concerned look as you carry on with the exercise, saying, “I really admire how stupid you are.”

“I admire how annoying you are.”

“I admire your laziness.”

“I admire your cruelty.”

You furrow your brow, ball your fist and bite back the curses threatening to slip out. Cruelty? Didn’t he just say that he believed you’d never actively put him in any danger? Was he just saying anything to try and get you to bend to his every command again? Lips trembling, you reply, “I admire your dishonesty.”

Professor Trelawney takes a sip from her butterbeer, upper lip coated with foam, then lets out a shaky breath. “Well, that was a good start,” she tries her best to smile, setting her cup down. “Given that it’s our last day, let’s try doing this exercise right just once, hmm?”

Mama’s words trickle back to you. You want to make her proud, to continue your studies at Hogwarts, but he’s just so frustrating. And a part of you knows that even if you make an effort to show Professor Trelawney how you’ve progressed these last few days, it wouldn’t change a thing. The results of your investigation are still pending, no thanks to Seokjin.

“Now, let’s try using positives. Mr. Kim, why don’t you start us off this time?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you resist the urge to scoff. He’s been silent since the beginning for a reason. If you give into insults first, he has the excuse of defending himself when he shoots one back. And though you know this every well, it only makes you want to swear at him even more. 

Seokjin huffs, twirling his quill between his fingers. Breathing in deep, he says, “I admire your determination.”

Lies. 

Swallowing your curses, you reply, “I admire your resilience.” 

Seokjin pauses. He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing. Scanning your features, he seems to be searching for signs of deceit. Expressionless, you stare back. He must’ve interpreted your lack of emotion for sincerity as his gaze softens. Sitting up, he licks his lips to hide a little smile. “I admire your passion.”

When has he ever seen you so passionate? This really is a joke to him; you’re a joke to him. You open your mouth to call him out for his lies when the strangest look surfaces on his face. You’re not certain what it is, but you can tell that it lacks defense and hostility. He’s radiating warmth. Lips in a… kind smile, he awaits your reply. Could he… Could he really be serious?

“I admire your ability to charm a room.”

Perhaps he heard something too raw in your voice, his brows momentarily shooting up. Have you been too honest?

“I admire your honesty.”

You have been too honest. Now, you’ve never been more confused. Does he or does he not believe you? You only wish you can ask. 

Professor Trelawney giggles into her half empty cup. “Well done,” she smiles, more foam coating her upper lip. Neither you nor Seokjin make an effort to let her know, sharing a knowing smile. The professor doesn’t think too much of it, though. She simply assumes her efforts are finally sinking in. 

“Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday.”

You flip back to yesterday's page. The last two weeks have been a series of attempting to compliment each other and recording all the pranks the two of you have pulled during this school year alone. Only two more pages, out of twenty-five, remain. Each of you must state the prank, explain why you did it and why you regret doing it. You have yet to receive an apology for all the crap he’s done to you… you also have yet to issue one yourself. 

“We last stopped with you, Mr. Kim. What’s the next prank on your list?”

Seokjin chews on his lip. “Blonde hair,” he mutters, playfully glaring your way.

Professor Trelawney leans forward. She inspects his hair, asking, “That’s not natural?”

No. What seems to be natural, however, is how good any colour of hair seems to look on him. You had intentionally intended to dye his hair pink. But, when you “accidently” spilled a bit of potion all over his head, he only looked better. The colour didn’t even clash with his red uniform. So, you quickly threw some mint leaves in and spilled some more over his head. Teal looked better than the pink. As a last ditch effort, while Professor Slughorn made his way to you, you tossed some butterscotch strings in and poured it all over his head again. The blonde stuck, striking beauty from every angle. 

“That was not supposed to happen,” you confess with a smile playing on your lips. 

“You poured that disgusting potion on me three times. I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Well, at least something good came from trying to dye his hair. He may have looked good but the potion sure as hell didn’t feel that way. “You mixed up my schedule. I was late for astronomy six times,” you explain as a means of an excuse.

“That’s because you charmed your necklace to hiss at every girl I tried to date.”

You shrug. “Someone needed to warn them how slimy you are.” Professor Trelawney clears her throat. “Were,” you correct. “How slimy you were.”

The professor rubs her temples. “No,” she sighs. “Don’t you have something to say to Mr. Kim?”

You’ll be damned if you apologize first. He’s the one that started all this; he should be the one apologizing. And, if you’re satisfied enough with his groveling, you might consider issuing an apology for your actions as well. 

“For what it’s worth,” you start. Seokjin raises a brow. Professor Trelawney holds her breath. “My plan backfired. I only kept pouring the potion over you because you look great in every colour.” 

An exhausted sigh escapes your professor. She tries to remain positive however, smiling and nodding as she moves the conversation along. “And what about this necklace charming ordeal?”

“What about it?”

“Why did you charm the snakes on your necklace to hiss at his girlfriends?”

You pause. Why did you do that? You remember that it was a week before the Yule ball. Mitch, a fellow Slytherin, was in the middle of asking you something. You don’t exactly remember the details of that conversation. However, you do remember watching Seokjin over Mitch’s shoulder. He was being all too enchanting, courting Rina, who is possibly the kindest Hufflepuff you’d ever met. You remember watching her swoon and watching him notice. 

Your heart festers with a familiar rage. The charming spell comes to you in a hard wave once again, just as it did that day. 

“He reordered my notes,” you lie. 

“That was the excuse you used when you bought four hundred chocolate frogs in my name and released them into the Gryffindor common room,” Seokjin points out.

You avoid his narrowing gaze as both he and Professor Trelawney await the truth. Why did you do that? Why did you do that? The question circles around your head, excuses nowhere to be found. Nothing even really came of it. He ended up going to the ball with Rina anyways. And you went with Jimin since he’s your best friend and the only person you can tolerate being around for an entire night. Had you wanted Seokjin to take you instead? You internally cringe at the thought. 

“I don’t know,” you finally answer.

Silence falls over the table. You can’t meet their eyes, fearing they may see something you’re trying to bury deep within you. Professor Trelawney curls her lips in. Furrowing her brows, she asks, “Well, do you regret your actions?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps it’s the lack of hesitance in your reply, or the firmness in your tone. Either way, Professor Trelawney believes you. She carries along with the session. You and Seokjin go back and forth for the next couple of hours, crossing out every prank you finish addressing. 

Finally, your latest pranks remain. 

“How about we start with how you found out Seokjin had your letters?”

You swallow thickly. This happens to be the choppiest part of your story, according to the headmistress. “Someone,” she had said. “Someone told you?”

“Someone told you?” Professor Trelawney echoes when you repeat yourself to her. 

You nod. 

“Who?” Seokjin immediately questions. 

“Someone.”

“Mitch?”

How the fuck did he know that? Did Mitch tell anyone else? But if he made you promise not to say anything, then why would he go tell others? Setting your jaw, you repeat through gritted teeth, “Someone.” 

“Jimin?”

“No!”

“So, Mitch then?”

How does he keep doing that? You furrow your brows, exhaling sharply from your nose. What’s got him thinking it was Mitch to begin with? Had he maybe overheard Mitch telling you about it in the great hall? But, if that was the case, why didn’t he put in a better effort in hiding them? He just left them unattended in the first drawer of his night table, opened and vulnerable to any other prying eyes.  

Fear of someone else finding out about you and your family returns in sharp pains of your gut. You shift your crossed arms down to your stomach between shaky breaths. “Why are you certain it’s him?”

Seokjin smirks. “You had no problem denying that it was Jimin. Saying it’s not Mitch seems to be a struggle for you.”

It’s your fault for underestimating his intelligence. Yes, you constantly tell him he’s stupid, but you both know that’s not the case. And it’s the fact that you know how smart he is and that he knew better than to steal your personal property and invade your privacy only furthers your hatred towards him. Sighing, you reply, “It doesn’t matter who told me. What I would like to know is why you had to read them?”

All colour drains from his face. “I didn’t.”

You scoff, running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth. It’s vital that you keep your temper in check. You know that if you cause a scene now, you’d only look even guiltier. “Why were the letters opened then?”

“Look, I didn’t read them,” he huffs.

The atmosphere only darkens around your table, thickening with each trembling breath the two of you take. Professor Trelawney hisses at the sight of your auras and begins to flail her hands about, cleansing them from all that negative energy. You know things are starting to get out of control when an entire room of magical creatures look towards your table with concern and confusion. 

Glancing at Seokjin, you can’t help but glare. Everything he’s done, everything he’s said before this point has contradicted itself. He says he believes you, but won’t vouch for you. He says he never read your letters, but opened them anyways. He says the right things before bed, looks the right way, touches you in the right places, but then can’t meet your gaze the next morning. In all fairness, you had told him to forget about last night in so many words. However, his withdrawal from certain conversations is not lost on you. And it is for this reason that you cannot stomach to look at him any longer. 

“I need some air,” you suddenly mutter, cutting Professor Trelawney off. Lost so deep in thought, you hadn’t even realized that she was talking. 

“Alrigh-”

The screech of your chair cuts her off once more. The sad look on her face fills your heart with guilt. You hesitantly rest a hand on her shoulder and mumble, “Thank you for cleansing my aura. I feel a bit better with all that negativity gone.” 

Professor Trelawney smiles up at you. She holds onto your elbow and nods. “Of course, dear. You enjoy your lunch now.”

Forcing a smile, you pull your hand away from your professor. The intimacy is getting more and more uncomfortable. The most feeling you’ve put into anyone else was last night, and that’s not a fact you’re proud to admit. 

In seconds, you’re abandoning all feelings and thoughts. You turn your ink lid close tight and toss it into your bag with all your other things. In your peripherals, you can see Seokjin rushing to do the same. If he thinks he’s going to ruin your only moment alone with excuses, he’s sadly mistaken. Grabbing your lunch, you make your way to the broom rack and take the first familiar broom you see. Up the green brick steps you go, and under the wind you fly away from Witching Wits cafe; away from Kim Seokjin. 

The flight to Doe’s Peak is long, but worth the time. You land atop the highest hill, amongst the tallest grass. You’ve tossed glances behind you all throughout the flight, making sure Seokjin wasn’t following you. Now that you’ve made it though, alone with only the wind’s mocking melodies for company, you partly wish he had followed you. 

Dismounting off your broom, you let it fall by your feet. You’ve snuck away to this hilltop since the first amity session. You needed a breather then too after a heated argument about whether or not you taught Professor Flitwick’s frogs to follow Seokjin around and sing ominous notes every time he entered a room. You did, but no one needed to know that. You let your words get the best of you then too. 

Pulling out a white, red striped sheet from your bag, you shake it out and lay it on the floor. After one too many trips here, you’ve learned to come prepared. Actually, before these amity sessions, you haven’t flown up here in awhile. You used to always run away to this hilltop since it had the best view of the entire muggle town on one side and the country roads on the other. 

A large forest separates the peak from the countryside. As you sit yourself down on the thin blanket and unwrap your lunch, you remember tricking both the country and townspeople that a beast lurked these parts. It was before you realized you had magic. You came on a hiking trip with your family and fell in love with the scenery. You wanted to keep it all to yourself, so you attempted to roar into the forest. You were only seven; how were you supposed to know that you’d sound more like a bear than you intended to? By some twist of fate or another, you got what you wanted: an eyeful of scenery for your viewing only. 

You face the town now, watching the muggles bustle around in the distance. With a mouthful of kimbap, you pull your portable green radio out of your bag and flick it to life. A reply of the last quidditch game sounds. Slytherin against Gryffindor. Hearing the game all over again, you can’t help but sigh. You should’ve been there, batting bludgers towards Seokjin. He’s a seeker, but that’s never stopped you from swinging your bat towards him before. 

“Slytherin scores again! Gryffindor’s only chance to win now lies with the golden snit-”

You switch the radio off with a wave of your hand. Another second of this rerun and you might just chuck the radio down the hill. 

The wooden sign at the edge of the hilltop creaks from the forces of the wind. Shoving the last piece of kimbap into your mouth, you glance up at it. The hill was named Theodore’s Peak, but the other letters had fallen off long before you were born. Now, despite the discolored outline of the previous letters, the sign reads Doe’s Peak. 

It’s a bit ironic, you think as you scarf down the last little bits of egg in your lunch box. The hill belongs to you and your patronus is a doe. Now, if only Seokjin could let that go. 

Ah, Seokjin. Why can’t you go a single moment without his name on the tip of your tongue? Is he really that infuriating, that intoxicating that he needs to be entrenched in your every thought? Full of anger and frustration, you look back out at the town and inhale deeply. On the exhale, you scream at the top of your lungs. Screwing your eyes shut tight, you let every drop of rage out in a long scream. 

When you’re done, you shut your bento box, wrap it up tight and push it aside. You, then, mentally vow to go the rest of this lunch not thinking about Kim Seokjin while reaching into your bag to search for your peach. If this is to be your last few moments as a witch, the results of your investigation still pending, then you’ll spend them admiring your favourite place, alon-

A snap of a branch chills your blood. No one dares hike through the woods. You slowly turn your head down to the forest. Squinting, you notice a figure trying, and failing, to hide behind a tree trunk. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to swallow your anger. But then he laughs. 

“Get lost, gerbil face!” You shout. 

“What?”

“GET LOST!”

“COME UP?”

He’s doing this on purpose. Before you can yell curses, he flies up to where you are, dismounting by your broom. You roll your eyes, finally grabbing hold of your peach in your bag and pulling it out. Your bag tips over, but you pay it no mind. You’re all too consumed by Seokjin and his returning cocky smirk. 

“Get lost,” you repeat before taking a big bite out of your fruit. You don’t bother to spare a glance up at him.

Seokjin takes this as an invitation to sit. His eyes flicker from your bag to you. “You took my broom.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “So, you hid down there and watched me eat?” You ask around your food. 

“I’m not some creep.”

“You did follow me up here.”

He lets out a flustered sigh, looking out into the town. “I heard you yelling. Forgive me for wanting to make sure you were okay.” Tone drenched in sarcasm, he avoids your confused gaze. 

You open your mouth to call bullshit, but pause. Though you’d hate to admit it, that does sound like something he’d do. He’s a douchebag, but an honourable one. No matter how much he hates you, he’d never let you face a dangerous situation alone. Or, at least, you hope he wouldn’t. So, instead of insulting him or calling him a liar, you take another bite of your peach.  

“You come up here a lot?” He asks. 

You ignore him. 

He hums quietly. Then, reaches his hand back. “Is this why?”

Mid eye roll, mid chew, you freeze. He holds your dark green dildo in his hand, examining it in the bright afternoon sun like it’s some rock he found laying around. You know it’s big, having selected it on it’s size alone, but it looks small in his hand. You drop your peach, choke on the bites you try to swallow and lunge to grab that toy out of his hand. The only reason you’ve kept it in your bag was to keep it out of his sight. 

Seokjin laughs as he holds it high out of your reach. You scamper around over his lap like a little dog in desperate need for a treat. “Down, girl,” he teases with a smirk. 

Your arousal instantly pools between your legs at the reference. Though riddled with humiliation, you can’t fight the angry desire coursing through your veins. One of your peach juice stained hands suddenly wraps around his neck. You gently squeeze, ignoring the shudder of pleasure that runs down your spine at the gulp of his adam’s apple. 

Eyes locking, he raises a brow. Is that a challenge? Does he not think you can squeeze any harder? Despite being fueled by rage, you only just tighten your grip around his neck. 

He scoffs. 

You add your other hand, threatening, “I’ll do it.”

He smirks. “I dare you.”

Without much hesitance, your grip tightens. Seokjin moans. A gasp escapes you, turning his pleased groans into laughter. He just needs one hand to push both yours off him. Then your throat is caught in his grasp. He squeezes without warning, smirking down at you as he whispers, “That’s how you choke a brat.”

Chest heaving, straggled moans pour out of you. Seokjin must’ve thought the buttoned dress was too constricting around your breasts. He raises his brows as he looks down at your cleavage and grazes the buttons. You take this as a silent request to continue. Against your better judgement and the anger that wants to tear him apart, you nod. 

He wastes no time on anymore reassurances. Button after button is unclasped. Your bra becomes more and more exposed. His grip tightens as the sleeves fall off your shoulder. He reaches behind you, hovering his lips over yours, and loosens your bra. Exchanging his breath for yours, he purrs, “Take it off.”

“You want it off so bad; you take it off.” 

Echoing his words from last night, with your own variation of course, is possibly the deadliest thing you could do. Seokjin pulls your bra down, the straps falling off your shoulder too, and slaps one of your breasts. 

You hiss, glaring at him. He takes the look as another challenge, smacking your other breast much harder than the last. 

“Jin!” 

His gaze lacks remorse. With another couple of slaps on each breast, he seethes, “Take the bra off.”

You huff through your nose. He tightens his grip. There’s only so much of this you can resist. Licking your lips, you push the sleeves of your dress off to finally remove your bra. Though your top half is exposed, the cool, late spring breeze hardening your nipples, your bottom half is still concealed under the skirt of your dress. 

Seokjin releases your throat with a shove. You fall back on your elbows with a squeal. There hasn’t been a moment, a word hissed, a breath exchanged that you haven’t glared at him for. Sitting up, you have every intention of shoving him back. However, the moment you push yourself up, your lips find his. You want to say that you fought as hard as he did to be the one to have the upper hand, but you know you can’t. Not even a half-hearted effort was put into being the one to leer over the other. You surrendered within seconds, laying back down on the sheet as his frame hovered over yours. 

He breaks the kiss and stretches his head back. You follow the silent command, instantly latching your wet lips onto his soft skin. You kiss, suck, lick at the sensitive flesh of his neck as he trails a hand down to your pussy. A little chuckle escapes him when he finds that you’re pantiless. 

“Were you hoping I’d find you?” he asks. You bite down on his collarbone, earning yourself a smack on you pussy. “No panties and a fucking toy,” he whispers. “If you wanted me this badly, you should’ve just said so.”

Why does he have to waste such precious time running his mouth? You’re both needy for a fuck. Why won’t he just let that be it? There doesn’t have to be some sort of secret meaning hidden within every kiss received or touch offered. 

Pulling your face out of the crook of his neck, you part your lips to tell him to just shut up and fuck you, when he adds, “That’s why you scared Rina away, right? And the others too?” 

You flinch upon hearing her name. 

Seokjin smirks. He cups your pussy and hums a quiet moan at the wet heat it radiates. “I really didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

You’re so ashamed, you can’t even meet his gaze to glare at him. Burying your face back into the crook of his neck, your clutch onto his broad shoulders and seethe, “Shut up.”

He pets your clit one stroke at a time. Eyes rolling back, you lean into his frame and hold on tight. You know he’s being gentle now, but if you learned anything from last night, it’s that Seokjin’s mood changes with the wind. His free hand wraps around you, further pressing your body into his. Only when your bare breasts are smushed against his covered chest do you realize that he’s still fully clothed. He’s never looked better in a white shirt and some jeans but you’d just wish he’d stop with all these games and strip enough to fuck you already. 

Cupping your pussy again, he asks, “Do you want my cock, Little Doe?” You roll your hips into his hand and eagerly nod. Seokjin tightens his hold on your heat, drawing a little grunt out of you. “Then, answer the question, you dirty slut.”

“Yes, I want you,” you sigh, answering the second question. Though you know that’s not what he wanted you to reply to, you hope your lack of hesitance to confess other truths would be enough to end this line of questioning all together. 

It’s not. 

That hand he has on the small of your back, cradling you close to his frame, shoots up to your hair. He tugs on it, pulling your face out from the crook of his neck. You cry out in surprise. Shame rises from your gut at the realization that you love this rough act more than you should. Craning your neck more than necessary, he whispers against your lips, “Just be a good fucking girl for once, you pathetic brat, and tell me the truth.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. You might have to admit your most shameful secret, but you refuse to look him in the eye while doing it. “Fine,” you huff. Voice trembling, you admit, “I was jealous.” 

Seokjin places a soft kiss on your chin, a stark contrast to the rough grip he has on both your pussy and hair. “Good,” he mutters against your jawline. “Now, look me in the eye and say it again.”

A new rush of arousal pools into his hand. You feel him smirk against your skin. He knows all too well about your infatuation to be humiliated not to draw out every second of it. 

You slowly open your eyes to meet his amused ones. “I was jealous,” you repeat with a shudder. The words sound even more pathetic the second time around. The little cracks in your voice don’t soothe the sting of that fact. “I hate you.”

Seokjin smiles. “Don’t ruin all your progress now, Little Doe. You were doing so well.”

“Fuckin-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. You don’t even have the strength within you to not give into him. What more do you have to stand for? Your pride? He’s clearly trampled all over it. Your hatred? You’re slowly starting to question the legitimacy of that feeling because kissing him has made you feel refreshed with giddy desire. And feeling him has ignited every nerve on fire. It feels similar to hate, you know it does. It twists your guts and crushes your heart. It weighs down on your chest and shatters any belief in any other possibility but him. When he kisses you, when he holds you, when he plays with you like this, all you can believe in is him.

The harsh grip on your scalp softens and softens until it’s no more. His hand releases your hair and trails around to your chin. He holds you by your jaw as he lays you down on the sheet. After another soft kiss, he removes his hand from your pussy and reaches for that long, smooth curved dildo instead. Much to his amusement, a little giggle escapes you. Your defenses have fallen sometime between the first use of slut and that second kiss. You should be ashamed by the fact that you’re visibly eager to be ruined by him but you aren’t. In fact, you relish in the fact that you’re excited for him to see you so vulnerable, so submissive. And he seems to enjoy that too.

Seokjin leers over you with a little smile. He pulls your jaw open and shoves the toy into your mouth. You hold his gaze while swirling your tongue around the heavy object. He pushes your hair back, admiring the way you gag every time he shoves the toy further into your mouth without warning. Tears only just prick your eyes when he finally pulls it out

“Was that too much?”

You shake your head. 

He nods and moves the toy down. You spread your legs wider in anticipation. The two of you watch as he runs the side of the dildo between your folds before pushing it in. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you rest your head back down on the ground. Your pussy’s already clenching around it. His other hand wanders around your torso, slapping and groping your breasts. With your arms up over your head, you roll your hips up into his hand, desperate to make him move the dildo or, at the very least, turn it on. 

“You want me to move it?” 

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Suck my dick.”

Your eyes widen, glancing between him and his crotch. “The whole thing?” The moment the question leaves your lips, you internally cringe. The whole thing, you mockingly think. Why the fuck would he want half his dick sucked? 

Seokjin chuckles. “If you think you can take it, yeah.” He nods down to his belt and says, “The whole thing.”

You gulp. Though the task is daunting, you can’t ignore how empty your throat feels. Chewing on your lip, you undo his pants and push it down to his knees with his underwear as well. His huge cock springs out, smacking you in the face. 

“Ah~,” you gasp. 

He only chuckles, positioning the tip in your already open mouth. Maybe he’s getting impatient, or maybe he just likes the fact that the moment his dick seems to appear, your jaw drops. Either way, you start sucking on his tip, swallowing his precum, and he watches you, a pleased smirk plastered on his face.

Propping up on your elbows, you level your face with his hips. It’s a bit easier to suck him off now, but you don’t dare get carried away. Already your jaw aches from his weight alone. Sucking and slurping, you lose yourself in your task to even realize that the toy’s moving inside you. 

It’s not enough. It’s not the same. With his cock in your mouth, his girth and a quarter of his length down your throat, you just know that nothing can compare to this. That dildo, the one you’ve been using for a couple of years now, the one that has made you squirt more times than you can count, only seems like a poor excuse for a toy now. 

You bring your hand up to his cock, pulling him out of your mouth for a breather. Quiet moans escape you, but it’s mainly due to the way he tastes. Jerking him off, you look up at him, pout your lips and ask, “Turn it on?”

Bringing his brows together, Seokjin licks his lips. “It turns on?”

You nod. He starts to shake his head at your request, but you open your mouth once more and smack his tip on your tongue. He pauses. You do it again and again, moaning erotically in hopes that the image would be pronogrpahic enough for him to finally agree. 

For once, your plan works. 

Seokjin mutters, “Turn it on then.” 

You squeal in delight, waving a hand down towards your crotch to get the dildo started. It hums loudly, vibrating harshly against your walls as you set it to the highest intensity. He raises a brow down at the toy. 

Worried he’d catch onto your actions, you quickly return to your ordered task. You deep-throat as much of him as you can without much of a warning and pump the rest of his cock at a quick, harsh pace. All the while, you're holding his gaze. However, even with the sight of tears streaming down your face and a mouthful of dick, Seokjin remains sharp and focused. 

The moment you turned that vibrator on, he ceased all movements. Holding it still in your pussy, he watches you devour his cock to overcompensate for the fact that you indirectly disobey him. But judging by the cocky look in his eyes, you’re starting to think this is exactly what he thought would happen. 

Realization hits you, mid-slurp, and you stop all movements. Warming his cock in your throat, you glare up at him through your blurry vision. This entire time you’ve been playing right into his hand. And why are you even taken aback by this discovery? You know you love it. He knows you love it. Why are you finding that so hard to admit yourself?

You’re about to pull him out but he holds onto the back of your head and pushes you back down on him. Gags vibrate around his cock at the same rate the toy buzzes in you. It’s uncontrollable and all he does is grunt and growl, throwing his head back. Seokjin knows he’s pushing your limits right now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Only when you grip onto his thigh does he let you go. 

Wet and slobbery, you swallow mouthfuls of oxygen even while his tip rests on your tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were the toy in this situation, not whatever’s vibrating in your pussy right now. 

Seokjin takes the dildo out of you while gently nudging you to lay back down. “You’ll be a good girl now? You won’t try anything else?”

You scoff. “How is it fair that you get to play around all you want?”

Holding your gaze, he presses the edge of the toy against your clit. You instantly cry out and roll your hips into it. He then pulls it away and watches you whine and huff in frustration. 

“That’s why.” 

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you roll your eyes. “I can do that too.”

“You already did,” he points out, referring to your little attempt to try to distract him from the fact that you turned it on to any intensity you wanted. “Do I need to remind you how that turned out for you?”

Then it hits you. He wasn’t playing around; he was punishing you. A string of curses loops in your mind at how stupid you’ve been. You should’ve tried to humiliate him back, degrade him just as well as he had degraded you. You shouldn’t have inflated his ego like this. You shouldn’t have disregarded the one thing that has kept him in your life for this long; your pride. 

Crossing your arms under your breasts, consequently pushing them together, you reply, “Do I need to remind you that you’re just as horny as I am?” Seokjin circles around your head so that he is leering right above you. You have to lean your head back to talk to him as you continue. “I know how hard you are, Jin. I know how badl-”

Seokjin cuts you off by smearing his tip over your lips. You fall silent. Staring up at him, you try to resist the urge to lick your lips. You do, however, open your mouth wide without being asked to. Though you tell yourself that you’re doing this because you want to, though you know deep down that everything you do is for him. 

He spares no time with words. The moment you open your mouth, he leans forward and pushes his cock down your throat. His weighty balls fall against your forehead and large hands reach for your breasts to mount himself. He doesn’t move; he simply sits over your head while your throat keeps his cock warm.

He doesn’t fit. It doesn’t stop him from squeezing himself in. Your throat burns. The gags and tears don’t bother him. Your hands on his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, doesn’t faze him. The fact that he doesn’t fit isn’t an issue in his mind. He probably won’t fit in your pussy, but you both know that won’t stop him either. 

As you choke on him, throat constricting, swallowing his length upon command, he grabs the vibrating dildo somewhere by your head and presses it against your clit once more. You can’t even moan with his cock this far down your throat. Your hips spasm, though, and legs tremble. You roll into the toy, squirming under his body. 

“You really need a mouthful of dick to follow orders?” He asks over your gags and the buzzes of the vibrator. Slowly, he starts to pull out of you.

You want to say the first sound to escape you the moment he’s out is a gasp for fresh air, but you can’t. You moan instead. You moan his name. The denial will never die, so long as the truth is this obvious. Every breath you spend on him rather than yourself only further proves that fact. 

He stays hovering behind your head, cock perched against your cheek, as he continues to get you off from this angle. Little chuckles fill the space between you with every desperate, broken moan of his name that pours out of you. Your panting, your throat’s aching, and yet all you can think, all you can say is “Jin, Jin, Jin.”

Pussy clenching, hips buckling, your orgasm nears. Looking up at him, you find his attention is locked on your crotch. A little smile tugs on your lips with that familiar sense of pride blushing in your chest. Captivating him like this turns you on too much to be able to soundly admit. Something about making him happy, making him lose himself over you makes you proud. Maybe you just like the attention, you tell yourself while wrapping your hand around his cock. 

Curious and dark, his eyes snap back to yours. Moaning against his length, you stare up at him innocently. What’s the use of fighting your need for him… when he’s controlling that vibrator? As long as he’s in control, you know you’re going to have to give into every order blindly, especially if you want to cum. You tell yourself that you’ll do what he says because you haven’t had a good fucking in a while then push any opposing arguments to the side. 

Seokjin smiks. “Close, Little Doe?” 

So very close. You can’t hide the quaking of your legs. You’re just glad he’s not sitting near your pussy or he’d be able to see how much it quivers for him. Sucking harshly on his tip, you nod and hum, “Mhm.”

Your gasps are breathless, moans desperate as you feel your orgasm threaten to take over. Shutting your eyes, you throw your head back and-

“No!”

His obnoxious laugh meets your ears. You cry out curses as you sit yourself up and turn to look at him. Face blotched with tears, spit and precum, you glare at him. “You fucker!”

He only laughs harder. Having had enough of his games, you reach for the vibrator. You don’t need him; you can do it yourself… if he’ll let you, that is. Seokjin holds the toy out of reach once more when you attempt to grab it out of his hands. 

“I was so close!” You whine, clutching onto the collar of his shirt. 

Mocking your whines, he grabs onto your ass to keep you still. Your eyes then widen, the tip of his erection poking at your stomach. With the two of you now on your knees, battling for the upper hand, the desire to have him in you only intensifies. Your dress pools around your knees as you straighten your posture. The act of hooking a leg around his waist to jump on his cock is all too tempting. The fast murmurs of the vibrator is long forgotten now that all your mind can think about is how easy it would be to take what you want. That’s what he has been doing this whole time anyways, right?

Eyes dark and drenched in dominance, he smiles. He really thinks he’s won, that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. From a single glance, you know he believes you’ll do anything for him. And maybe if he hadn’t edged you that hard, you would’ve played right into his hand again. But, he got drunk off this control and it’s about time you reclaim it. 

You may be naked, but you’re about to uncover every single one of his cocky glances and sly smirks. Destruction is your goal. 

Softening your gaze, you pout your lips and press them to his chin. Seokjin stiffens. His grin falls. He brings his brows together and watches you carefully. You arch your back to push your ass further into his hand. Mewling against his jawline, you release his shirt and slither a hand to his neck. 

Seokjin scoffs and lowers his hand, dropping the vibrator. Both his hands cup the underside of your ass, lifting you up and spreading your legs enough to position his cock between your folds. Biting back a smirk, you slither your other hand through his long, pulled back hair and exaggerate an innocent whine. He eats it up, rolling his hips into yours. 

The little bit of friction against your clit only derails you for a second as your breath hitches. He’s getting too comfortable with this feigned submissive state you’re displaying. When he starts to massage your cheeks, you know you’ve got him hooked. He’s too vulnerable to predict your next move.

As his eyes flutter close and he leans in for a kiss, you grab onto his throat. His eyes shoot open, but it’s too late. You pull his head back by the grip on his hair and dig your nails into his neck. Bearing your teeth, you graze and nibble on his jawline. He spanks you as a means of retaliation, but the gasp that escapes you only adds to your anger. 

“You really thought you could get away with that?” You question while tightening your grip on his throat. Seokjin gulps. You giggle when you feel his adam’s apple bob under your palm. “You should’ve let me cum, you pathetic slut.”

Using his words against him only seems to humour the situation. He laughs, trying to look at you despite the fact that you’re holding his head back. “Let me go before I lose my patience, Little Doe,” he rasps. 

You’re the one that has a hold on him. He can’t tell you what to do. How does he even have the guts to taunt you when you’ve got him in such a degrading position. You clench your jaw and grunt. 

“I won’t tell you again.” The humor in his tone has disappeared. 

Huffing, you raise a brow. If you need to assure your dominance over him, then that’s exactly what you’ll do. Gathering your saliva, you spit over his lips. He flinches. “Lie the fuck down,” you order. 

Seokjin darts his tongue out and licks his lips. Sighing, he whispers, “I’ll tell you what. If you can lay me down yourself, without using magic, I’ll apologize for everything.”

That tool. He must think the least of you if he’s willing to bargain this much. You’re about to tell him to shut up and do as you say, but then he smirks. He really believes you can’t do it. Anger doesn’t fully encompass your feelings towards him, and neither does rage at this point. You’re livid. Heart pumping a vicious dose of spite and pride, you release his throat and attempt to shove him down by his shoulders.  

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even pretend to be affected. You should’ve known better than you push him by his strongest point. His shoulders are massive; of course, they’d keep him up. Your next attempt focuses on his chest as you try to shove him down from there. Seokjin chuckles, biting his lip to keep the rest of his laughter in. 

“Just give up,” you shout while trying to climb over him. The hope of your body weight being enough of a factor to bring him down, backfires. Now you’re the one locked in his grip. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, breasts in his face. 

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he smiles. 

You let go of his hair. Both hands grip onto his shoulders as you watch his messy hair come undone. A few strands fall over his eyes. From this angle, with his long hair everywhere and chin leaning into your breasts, he looks harmless, perhaps even enchanting. He’s beautiful. That’s a fact you can never deny. It’s been true the moment you saw him all those years ago and it’s true now. But that amount of dominance is all your pride is willing to accept at this point. 

Pushing those soft strands of hair out of his face, you whisper, “Lay down, Jin.”

Seokjin shakes his head, nuzzling his face between your breasts. Your breath hitches as he makes himself comfortable by kissing and biting just under each tit; your most sensitive areas. Eyes fluttering shut, head falling back, you let yourself get lost in the gentle pleasure for a moment. But then, his teeth graze your skin a little bit harder than necessary. 

Your eyes snap open, hands rushing through his hair to pull his head back. Glaring down at him, you’re about to scold him for thinking he can take over you like that and not expect to be punished. Little do you know, he’s thinking the same exact thing. 

Before you can even part your lips, Seokjin’s patience has disappeared. He lays you down with ease, making quick work of pinning your hands over your head. You grunt and roll your hips against his stomach as a means to push him off, or so you tell yourself. Seokjin only plays into it as he rolls his body back into you. He chuckles when he feels your pussy quiver from the slightest bit of friction. You're too needy to put up more of a fight for your control back. And while that fact has already come and gone for Seokjin, you’re still making your peace with it. 

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re this cute,” he purrs. “Or I would’ve pounded that attitude out of you the first time you acted out.”

It’s condescending, absolutely degrading, yet you’re gushing for more. Pussy throbbing, you whine and attempt to pull your wrists out of his hold. You don’t make much progress. Seokjin smirks down at you. He leans in for a kiss and the temptation to give in returns. It trickles into your heart in quiet whispers. However,  your pride is louder, slithering into your soul in booming echoes. So as his lips near yours, instead of puckering, you spit. 

He flinches. “I was so close to forgiving you, Little Doe.”

“I haven’t apologized.”

“Yet.” 

You part your lips to tell him to go to hell, when suddenly you're turned over. Face smushed into the ground, body flat but ass up and hands held behind you, you’re entirely at his mercy. A soft cloth, you can only guess was the wrap of your lunch box, finds its way around your wrists, binding them tightly. 

“Ji- Ah~”

The smack of his hand coming down on your ass echoes in the vacant space. With your face towards the cityscape, you can see a few people look around for the source. If a single person glances up at the peak, they’d find your naked body completely submissive to Seokjin’s clothed one. The risk causes your arousal to tickle down your thigh.

Whether or not Seokjin is aware of the fact that he’s calling the attention of an audience doesn’t matter much to you. And even if it did and you wanted to ask him about it, you wouldn’t have the chance. After another spank, Seokjin pushes your asscheeks up and apart to bury his tongue in your pussy. You circle your hips at the warm sensation of his mouth against your heat. Moans and curses mixed with praises pour out of you as he sips on every wet drop of yours. He groans at the taste, completely entrenched in your needy pussy to pull away. 

“Oh, yes, there, you fucker,” you moan as his tongue swipes between your folds. Another spank meets your ass at the insult. You cry out a moan, but don’t care enough to stop. “That’s cute,” you whine. Though your words may be condescending, your tone betrays your intentions. You sound more broken and needy than ever. Each word sounds more like a plea rather than an insult.

Seokjin rather heard the former. He laps up a good amount of your wetness, then brings his glistening lips up to your asshole. After spitting the wet mixture over your hole, he reaches for the abandoned, still buzzing vibrator. 

“Ever use this in your ass?” He asks while swirling the spit mixed juices around your hole with the tip of the vibrator. 

You shudder a whine, fisting your hands to keep yourself focused. “No,” you sigh. “The most I’ve put in is two fingers.”

Seokjin chuckles as he pushes the tip in a good inch or two. You squeal loudly and screw your eyes shut from the buzzing, blissfully burning sensation of the vibrator’s stretch. “Well, after today you can say you’ve put in a bit more than that.”

As he massages your cheeks, tongue relatching onto your heat, you realize you really are just a toy to him, a little play thing, a set of holes to entertain him. And you should hate him for that, hate him for stealing your things, for reading your secrets, for making you love him all these years, but you don’t. You can’t hate someone as wonderfully prideful as you. You can’t despise his hardheaded tendencies or the fact that he must always be right. Because, though these traits may get you in some trouble, they’re possibly your favourite things about yourself. You love the challenge of proving yourself, and you know he does too. And of all the stupid men you’ve been with, Seokjin’s the only one that understands how to pleasure you, to provoke you beyond repair. 

The more you think about everything you’ve done to him out of spite and everything he’s done to you in return, the more you crave his cock. Pushing back against his lips, you hiss, “When the fuck are you planning to fuck me?”

He sits back and lets his hand take over his tongue’s work. Two fingers rub between your folds and tease your entrance as he replies, “Think you can take the whole thing, Little Doe?” 

Just when you were thinking you actually love the guy, he goes and throws your words back in your face. You’re starting to wonder if you’re insane for wanting him even more now. “Why don’t you stick it in and find out, you fucking thief,” you reply between quiet moans. 

His grip on your ass softens and he takes his fingers out at the reference. Though your heart’s telling you to drop it and charm him once more, your pride encourages you to continue. “Maybe this pussy might fuck some honour back in you. Maybe you’ll learn not to take what isn’t yours.”

That harsh hold returns. Both his hands grab onto your ass in a deadly grip as he darkly chuckles and asks, “What makes you think I’m the one being taught a lesson? Aren’t you the one tied up?”

His questions are irreverent, you tell yourself. With that vibrator in your ass and your pussy empty of his touch, all you can think about is how badly you need to be filled. “You annoying little shit,” you hiss over your shoulder. “Just fuck me already.” 

He smacks your pussy, making you cry out his name like the slut you know you are for him. “Watch your mouth, whore,” he warns. His voice is heavy with lust and dominance. You can’t help but push your hips back towards him from his tone alone. “Or, I swear, I’ll make you sorry you ever talked to me seven years ago.”

“You fucker! You spoke to me first!” 

“Are you serious right now? I’m threatening to fuck the shit out of you and you want to argue about who spoke to who first?” 

You huff a shaky breath. “You’re avoiding the topic because you know you’re wrong.”

“You just love lying, don’t you?”

How the fuck are you the liar? Fighting against the restraints, you explain over your shoulder, “I was minding my own business in my compartment and your dumbass-”

Seokjin shoves the half-eaten peach in your mouth, cutting you off. You bite into it to get a piece out so the rest could fall, but you end up hitting the pit. Chin sticky with peach juice, you scream into the fruit and try to glare at him over your shoulder. Seokjin simply pushes your face into the ground, leans over your flattened body and purrs, “I’ve heard enough from you, slut. Lying, screaming. You even think you can boss me around.” He chuckles a bit at his last sentence before continuing, “You’re going to apologize to me, (Y/N).” 

“Never!” You scream into the peach. However, all he hears is a two syllable grunt. 

No matter. The fact that you spoke back is enough to spur him on. He let’s go of your head and sits back up. You go to lift your head off the ground, but he pulls your hips up before you have the chance. He positions his cock between your folds then aligns it with your entrance. You only have the opportunity to suck in half a breath before he’s pushing himself in. 

You were right before to assume he wouldn’t fit. His girth alone is thick enough to make you cry into the fruit with every bit he further attempts to slide in. The stretch is so sweet, so harsh. You’re obsessed with how fucking big he is and how well he makes room for himself between your walls. Peach juice and drool runs down your chin, your neck, and stains the sheet. A mewling, sticky mess already and he’s not even halfway in. You need to stop losing yourself over him though, if you intend on keeping your apologies to yourself.

However, the vibrator partly lodged in your ass is not helping your attempt to stay still and sane. And every inch he continues to push in has you rolling eyes. Is it humiliating to admit you want this everyday, every night, every moment of your life? Is it disgraceful to wish he was yours always? Is it unreasonable to want to be his one and only? Him, him, him. All you want, all you crave is more him. 

He finally bottoms out. Maybe you’re whipped for his dick, or too horny to think straight, but you can almost certainly swear on both your lives that the imprint of his cock is bulging from your stomach. You can feel it against the floor. The realization makes you shudder and whimper into the fruit. 

“Tightest fucking cunt,” he whispers to himself. He then suddenly leans over your body, his stomach nudging the vibrator in a bit more, and kisses up your spine. A bundle of shivering nerves follow his trail up to the curve of your ear. “You know,” he starts in a whisper. “You look a lot like a little annoyed kitten when you’re angry.” 

You scratch at his stomach from your constrained position and groan into the peach. 

“See?” He darkly chuckles. “I live to see your nose twitch and eyes go dark whenever I piss you off. You just look so cute, Little Doe.” Hips pulling back, he continues, “I just can’t resist.”

“Fuck you.”

The clap of skin on skin is enough of a reply. Your eyes roll back and jaw clenches, teeth clattering against the peach pit. He starts slow, breathing heavily in your ear, making you clench around his cock for more. But then, he straightens his posture and holds onto your hands to build some momentum. With his heavy balls smacking against your clit as he speeds up, the most you can do is muffle your moans and whines into the fruit and pray you’ll mentally survive this. 

It’s all too good to be true. His length hits all the right places and then some, bringing grateful tears in your eyes that you’re thankful he can’t see. If he knew you were slowly becoming a sobbing mess for his cock too, then he’d never let you live it down. 

Seokjin then lets go of your hands, leaving you grabbing at the air, and shifts his hold to your ass. Using the meat of your cheeks, he pulls you forward and back to meet him halfway. He groans your name with every smack of his hips against your ass. You’re dripping off his tongue, entrenched in his very being by the way he chants your name. And though you’re the one tied and gagged like a suckling pig, utterly submitting to him and his dominance, the fact that he’s high off you is enough validation of power for you to enjoy his cock guilt-free. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You whine back without much thought. Only when he pounds into you three more times does your mind catch up to his word. Beautiful? Did he just call you beautiful? Was that supposed to be demeaning? Because, even if it wasn’t, you seem to be getting closer and closer to your high. 

You grunt a broken question into the fruit. Seokjin pushes in deep and leans over your body once more. Placing a soft kiss to your cheek, he takes out the mulled peach and asks, “What was that, Little Doe?”

“Do you mean it?”

The question trickles out of you in cracked cries of pleasure. And though you may sound weak and dick-hungry, the question is still strong enough to stun him. Soon, however, his senses find him once more. Circling his hips into your ass, cock swirling your juices deep within you and rubbing against your needy walls, he repeats in a dark whisper, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And as you moan his name in affirmation, he continues his thrusts in and out of you. The pace is slower than before, but the force is just as brutal. 

Seokjin takes a bite from the peach. In fact, it’s the same bite you took, only he avoids the pit. He then sticks half the piece out of his mouth, holding it out for you. You meet his lips halfway, taking a bite off while kissing him. The juices smear down both your faces, but you’re all too consumed with the filthy act of exchanging saliva to care. 

Pulling away, Seokjin holds your chin until you finish chewing and swallowing the piece. “Why couldn’t you swallow my cum like that last night?” He playfully asks. 

“I didn’t know-” You cut yourself off, the realization of your words catching up to your mind just in time. 

He raises a brow, ramming his hips even harder into you. “Didn’t know what, Little Doe?”

You shake your head. 

Seokjin drops the peach and grabs your hair. “Tell me.”

“No,” you mewl. 

“Tell me or I won’t let you cum.” 

The threat is enough to give you pause, but not nearly enough to make you confess. Then, he stills his hips mid thrusts and ups the stakes. “Tell me, Little Doe, and I’ll tell you the truth about the letters.”

The letters. The offer is more than tempting, but how can you be sure it's real? You swallow thickly, trying to sneak a good look at him in your peripherals. From the glances you’re able to get, you can tell that he’s serious. Gulping every fear and nag of your pride, you push your ego aside and confess, “I didn’t know I was in love with you then.” 

Seokjin pauses for a moment. He releases your hair then sighs. Have you said too much? Before you can really think about it, he presses a wet kiss to your cheek and continues with his movements into you. “I love you too, my little slut,” he purrs before returning to his previous position behind you. 

His little slut. You’re all his. However, you don’t have much time to relish over this newfound information as he takes up a speed you’ve never experienced before. He’s harsh and his cock viciously rams in and out of you while pushing the vibrating dildo further into your ass. You cry out a broken sob and nuzzle your tear and peach juice stained face into the sheet.

Your pussy tightens around his cock as you edge your orgasm. “C-Can I?” You ask, fearful he’ll deny you the truth if you don’t, or so you try to convince your ego that. 

“Of course, Little Doe,” he grunts. “I’m no liar.”

You want to dive into his words, the meanings behind them and why he chose now, of all the times, to tell you that. But, with your orgasm taking over, all you can focus on is trying to breathe. Eyes rolling back and twitching, mouth hung open, ears like sirens with their ringing, and pussy gushing, you reach your peak. Crying out his name, you cum all over his cock. 

Seokjin is relentless. He does not still his hips for a split second. In and out, he dives. He’s adamant on riding you through this and reaching his own high as well. “Tell me again,” he orders. “Tell me how you feel again, baby.”

Destruction is your goal, but you never thought to be at the receiving end of it. Your mind feels foggy, heart racing and pussy aching with that sweet relief of releasing all you have for him.  And though you might have thought that that second time you confess your feelings to him might break you, you find that it gives you strength instead. 

“I love you,” you breathlessly cry. 

You just finish the confession when he pulls in deep and shoots ropes of his cum into you. The tears in your eyes have no bounds. The stimulation is proving to be too much as you squirm in place. Seokjin quietly shushes you while grinding into your pussy to sprout every last drop into you. 

“Please, please,” you tremble. “It’s too mu-ch, Jin.”

Seokjin pulls the dildo out of your ass, and turns it off before tossing it near your head. With his cock still deep in you, he unbinds your hands. You bring your hands to either side of your head, sighing at the relief of the strain. Then, finally, he slowly pulls out of you. You let out a staggered whimper and close your eyes to try to contain yourself from crying out once more. You’re sure at this point that a few people must’ve seen you. You’re in the broad daylight, laying on the highest hill and screaming at the top of your lungs. Surely, you’ve caught a handful of attention. 

Once he’s fully out of you, Seokjin flips you over on your back. You avoid his gaze and bring your knees into your chest. He smiles and holds onto your ankles.

“I’m not sure if I want to clean you up or not,” he thinks out loud. You're too light headed to answer, but the hard look in your eyes when you finally meet his gaze is enough to make him laugh. “Guess I’m gonna leave you to walk around with my cum all day, Little Doe.”

“That’s not fair,” you sigh. 

Seokjin tuts. “Don’t whine,” he orders while pressing soft kisses upon your knees. He then pulls his briefs and pants up. And just like that, he’s fully dressed. The only indication that something dirty occurred is the dripping stain of peach juice on his white shirt. 

A part of you can’t bring itself to care if his cum stays in you or not. He’s fucked you beyond comprehension and you still have yet to regain your senses. His eyes flash with worry when you don’t fight him on his decision. 

“Are you okay?”

You only nod, all too fucked out to use words. 

“Need help sitting up?”

He interprets the half-hearted glare you shoot him as the yes you intended. He holds his hands out for you and you take them without a second thought. A smile graces his features as he pulls you off the ground. You tuck your legs under you when you finally sit back up. Your dress crumples under you and you can’t even be bothered to pull it out. 

Seokjin, barely even heaving, watches you try to compose yourself. “How are you not as tired as I am?” You question between pants. 

“Because I’m better than- Ow!”

You swat his shoulder and glare at him. “Finish that sentence and you won’t get any tonight,” you threaten before turning your attention back to your dress. You pull it out from under your and try to turn it inside in. 

Seokjin scoffs, flipping the dress over so you can finish your task easier. “You really think you’ll be able to go again tonight too?” 

Licking your lips, you hold his gaze and pull your dress back on. “If the truth doesn’t destroy you,” you start, buttoning up your dress, “Then, you can have me every night.”

He slowly nods along to your words. Curling a strand of his hair behind his ear, he sighs and finally confesses, “I did steal the letters.”

Your heart shatters into your gut. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to hold back your tears. Yes, you’ve accused him of it over and over again, but every time he denied it, you believed him. Never did you really believe he was this capable of being cruel.

The trembling sigh that escapes you makes him turn his body fully towards you. “I didn’t take them from you though,” he quickly adds. 

“My owl is an extension of me, asswipe,” you seethe, voice almost breaking. 

Seokjin shakes his head and corrects his statement, “No, I mean I didn’t take them from you at all. I caught someone reading them in the restricted section.” 

You scoff, looking off into the town with a shake of your head. This is unbelievable. Does he honestly think he can copy your someone claim and get away with it? “Someone?”

He raises a brow at you. “What? Suddenly that sounds stupid? That’s all you’ve been telling McGonagall.”

You snap your eyes back to him and shout, “That’s the truth! Someone told-”

“I know it was Mitch,” he cuts off.

“How can you be so sure? It could’ve-”

“Because that’s who I found with your letters.” 

You freeze. No. No! Mitch is a Slytherin, a friend. Why the hell would he steal your letters and then tell you about it? And if he did read them, then he knows the truth about you. So why hasn’t his demeanour around you changed? Why hasn’t he told anyone else? 

“I thought you were going to tell me the truth.”

“(Y/N), I swear this is the entirety of it. I took them from him the moment I recognized your handwriting,” he explains. Seokjin shifts closer to you and pushes your hair out of your face. “He told me that if I told you what he did, then he'd tell the school about your blood status.” 

Nothing can stop the tears pooling in your eyes. You try to blink them back, but that only provokes a few to fall. Seokjin goes to wipe them only to have you push his hand away. “So you know?” You whisper in hopes that it will mask the cracks in your voice. 

It doesn’t. 

“No one cares that you’re muggle born, (Y/N),” he sighs. 

“So why didn’t you tell McGonagall the truth then? Why’d you hide it for this long if no one will care? We both know there’s a good chunk of each house that will hunt me down if they knew.” 

He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew it would hurt you. You’re just scared you’d lose your power over everyone. Being half blood gains you just as much respect as being a muggle born.”

Your tears act on their own accord now, falling freely down your face. This time when Seokjin goes to wipe them away, you don’t reject him. He cups your face and says, “And if anyone does try to hurt you because of that-”

“You’ll make their life a living hell?” You mockingly finish. 

Seokjin smirks. “No, my girlfriend will,” he chuckles, genuine eyes boring into yours. “She’s really beautiful and she’s not afraid to take what’s hers. And she’s actually really scary. I’m really terrified of what she’ll do next sometimes.” 

You fight off the urge to smile as much as you can while he speaks. “You better be talking about me or I swear, Jin, I’ll-”

“See? She’s already making threats and I’m complimenting her,” he laughs. 

A little giggle tumbles out of your lips. As you finally let yourself smile, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you mutter into his shoulder. 

Seokjin is quick to hold onto your waist. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. “You know you’ll be okay, Little Doe.” 

The nickname has never made you smile as much as this before. And though your ego is still larger than him, your pride finally takes the back seat. Swallowing thickly, you pull away from him and mumble, “I’m sorry.” 

“Hmm?”

You huff through your nose and only just raise your voice, “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin knits his brows and leans in, “What?”

“For fuck’s sake, you alpaca, I said I’m sorry!” 

“Oh, you were serious?” He asks with a playful smirk. 

You internally curse yourself for being so in love with an idiot and shake your head. Your nose twitches a bit and Seokjin can’t help but throw his head back as he laughs. “I don’t know why I try,” you mutter to yourself.

Seokjin grabs onto your wrist and pulls you into his lap. You give in without another word and let him cradle you close to his chest. “You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he mutters against your hair. “I know you didn’t mean to start that fire.”

You snap your head up at him. “Really?” 

“I told McGonagall the same thing but she kept asking if I knew who else would do that, so I just stopped trying.” 

He really tried. This whole time you were convinced he thought the worse of you, that he didn’t care if you ever returned to Hogwarts, but he really was trying to help you. How long has he known he’s been in love with you too? Wrapping your arms around him, you reach up for another gentle kiss. The act of kissing him seems so natural now, so right and real. The way your lips move against each other isn’t like something you’ve felt before. You want this always; you want him always. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” 

You pull away from Seokjin with a start. His eyes dart to something behind you as his hands quickly move to hide the dark green dildo behind him. Quickly crawling out of his lap, you jump to your feet and stand an arm's length away from Seokjin. He follows your lead, standing up as you press your thighs together.

Your mixed cum threatens to fall with every passed second you remain standing. Cursing yourself for not making him clean it up, you try to stay calm. As long as it doesn’t drip pass the hem of your dress, you know you’ll be fine

Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Trelawney hover just over the edge of the hill as they look between the two of you. How long have they been watching you? How much did they hear? Oh fuck, you think, how much did they see?

You remain perfectly still as both of them land and dismount. “We’ve been looking everywhere for the two of you. Your lunch break finished twenty minutes ago,” Professor Trelawney sighs. “I was worried you were hurt.”

“We’re fine,” you reply. 

“Just fine,” Seokjin echoes. 

McGonagall flickers her attention between the two of you. “What were you so busy doing that you lost track of time?” She questions. 

Swallowing thickly, you mutter, “That’s a good question.”

“Really good question.”

Turning to Seokjin, you quietly ask, “Are you going to do that the entire time?”

“What? I’m not allowed to talk?”

“Not if you’re gonna act like a parrot.”

“Ahem…” 

Silence falls over the both of you the moment McGonagall clears her throat. Once she has regained your attention, her gaze falls on something to your right. All eyes follow your line of sight to find your lace bra by your lunch box. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep your jaw from dropping in sheer embarrassment.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Since last night,” Seokjin replies with almost no prompting. 

You swat his arm, shooting him a pointed look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Oh,” McGonagall hums. She then turns to Professor Trelawney and says, “You were right. They are getting along. Well, this won’t be so hard to say then.”

You hold your breath. Here it is. The results of your investigation. All questions about your future as a witch in training will finally come to an end. Seokjin shifts closer to you and his hand finds yours. You turn to meet his gaze as he squeezes your hand. 

“Mr. Kim Seokjin,” the headmistress starts, “Congratulations. You will be returning to Hogwarts first thing tomorrow morning.”

However, Seokjin doesn’t move. He doesn’t even so much as let out a shaky breath. He simply continues to hold your hand and stare at McGonagall. You attempt to squeeze his hand to let him know you’re okay, but he still doesn’t budge. 

McGonagall quirks her head at him, asking, “Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes,” he finally states. When the headmistress nods for him to continue, he exhales deeply and says, “I won’t let you expel her for something she didn’t do.”

A smirk plays on her lips. “That’s very noble of you, Mr. Kim. But Miss (L/N) is not being expelled for something she didn’t do.”

“(Y/N) didn’t start the fire.”

“Quite so,” McGonagall agrees. Your eyes widen and for a moment you don’t think you’re breathing at all. “That’s why she will be returning with you in the morning.” 

A child-like laughter you’ve never heard before escapes you at the announcement. “Really?” You ask, and when both professors smile and nod, you jump into Seokjin’s arms. He wraps his arms around you instantly, lifting you off the ground. 

However, in the haste of his movements, Seokjin drops the one thing redeeming your pride before your professors. Upon impact, the dildo hums to life and all smiles are suddenly gone. Both you and Seokjin rush to turn it off with a wave of your hand, but it only seems to intensify the vibrations. Finally, McGonagall pulls out her wand and silences the toy. 

You can’t even bear to look at her, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. Seokjin opens his mouth to explain but the headmistress shakes her head, “The less we know the better.” 

After a beat of silence, she hands each of you your wands and expresses her excitement to see you in the halls once more. And as she summons her broom up into her hand, Seokjin asks the headmistress, “So was it an accident then?”

“No, I’m afraid someone intended to hurt you,” she sighs, “The both of you actually.”

You share a concerned look with Seokjin. “Who?”

“Someone,” she smirks as she mounts onto your broom. “We look forward to having you back at Hogwarts.” 

The two of you thank both of your professors before they fly back to the cafe. 

Seokjin wraps his arm lazily around your waist and pulls you into his chest. He smiles down at you before cupping your face and softly pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, relishing in your secured position at school. 

“I knew it,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes and fight off a smile. “You did not. You were shaking when you thought I wasn’t coming back,” you tease.

He grabs a handful of your ass. Raising a brow, he mutters, “Says the one on the verge of tears.”

“I don’t cry.”

Seokjin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He clears his throat, nods, then says, “I know, Little Doe.”

Your breath somewhat hitches. Did he just try to save your pride? “Wow, you really are in love with me,” you mumble. 

You didn’t expect your words to ignite the egoistic part of him, but suddenly his expression hardens and his pride is on the line. “Never said in love.”

“Why are you lying?”

“You’re the liar.”

“Do you wanna go over…”

Your bickering lasts for either of you to even remember what set you off to begin with. And though your words knock each other’s pride only to build it again, and the pranks have not ceased to exist, you both know that nothing can change what you found, the love you found in each other on the tip of Doe’s Peak.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[snicketstrange]

Rereading The Chapter 14 (The End)

I believed that in ASOUE's universe, chapter 14 was apparently written some time after the rest of the book. But I abandoned that idea. Lemony wrote to the editor that chapter 14 could be found at the end of the same manuscript.

We then have the epigraph of Le Voyage. It's an excerpt that portrays the moment of death, and perhaps the acceptance of death. But I don't think this means that Lemony is completely certain of the Baudelaires' death. I think it means he's pretty sure he won't write about the Baudelaires anymore. I think the right question is "why did Lemony decide to stop writing at this point in the story?" "Why did he plan to write more and then stop writing?" I think Lemony didn't promise to write the entire story of the Baudelaires. He promised to write the story of the conflict between the Baudelaires and Olaf. So when he was sure of Olaf's death, and that was only with the additional information he had probably had access to through Beatrice Jr, Lemony realized that the research might be over. The certainty of Olaf's death was the event he determined when the narrative came to an end. So, it makes us wonder what kind of promise Lemony made. Apparently he promised that he would clarify the facts surrounding the charges the Baudelaires went through, as well as the contexts in which these events took place. That's why it was so important to get this information out to the general public. Because it involved the honor of the Baudelaire family. Furthermore, this explains why he could not rely solely on the account given by the Baudelaires themselves: after all, they were being accused of being lying criminals. Lemony needed to clear their name, proving, so to speak, that the facts reported by the Baudelaires were real, and it was not enough just to record what he read in the island book.

I think this is the most sensible explanation, and as a theorist I will defend it. But as a fan willing to come up with slightly bizarre ideas, I feel like imagining Lemony realizing that his own death was close to happening. It would be interesting to imagine that Lemony's research took so long that he was an elderly man when he was publishing The End. And the reason Lemony finished his work at this point would be his physical limitations. That would explain shocking secret #13: "he's finished." And more than that: it would even explain the title of the book: "The End of Lemony Snicket". And furthermore, this would explain Lemony's dedication to Beatrice in chapter 14. After quoting the words of Charles B., in which the poet compares the hour of death with the setting off of a ship, Lemony claims that both he and Beatrice are like boats sailing at night, but especially her. Both were on a dark and lonely journey, but she was already dead. "

Beatrice's last words recorded in the book were really emotional to me when I first read them, and they still are today. Especially after I watched the Netflix series, it's now possible to imagine a very specific face when I picture Beatrice. And it's possible to think of a specific soundtrack when I read this.

About the baby's name, on my Headcanon Violet is the name of Mrs. W, who was presumed dead around the same time as Lemony. And in my Headcanon, just as Lemony didn't really die, she didn't either. I still like to think that she was the mystery woman on TGG, and that's the real reason Quigley used the name Violet in the message he sent to submarine Q.

I think this is the first time I stop to think that the Baudelaires ate crab. This is unclean food for those who practice Judaism as a religion, isn't it? I even thought the roast lamb was a reference to the Passover celebration, but they wouldn't do that by eating crab. Or is it that in a book in which Daniel Handler implicitly criticizes religion, he did so on purpose? I think it's unlikely, but still possible. But, albeit unintentionally, the Baudelaires rejected the religious customs of their ancestors in a book in which religious customs are questioned and this is significant.

"The baby had heard about danger, too, mostly from the register of crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind from which the Baudelaires read out loud each evening, although they had not told the infant the whole story. She did not know all of the Baudelaires' secrets, and indeed there were some she would never know."

The above excerpt is important as it reveals that Lemony has information about Beatrice Jr's future as he was writing this chapter. This explains how Lemony knows what happened in this chapter: Beatrice Jr told him. Lemony did meet her, and he realized that the Baudelaires hadn't told her the whole story.

A detail that has always pleased me in this book is to notice that after 1 year, Sunny stopped babbling words and has a more conventional and extensive vocabulary. I find this compatible with the fact that 1 year has passed and it's also compatible with her character development arc. One of asoue's themes is "how some children are forced to mature too quickly because of tragedy". Sunny, for example, needed to learn how to cook and convince herself that she loved doing it and that she was good at it in a few days. And all this before she learned to speak English properly. She needed to help with a birth long before she fully understood issues related to human procreation. But in chapter 14, she finally had the opportunity to develop without tragedies forcing her to skip important steps in life.

"Do we take this?" Violet asked, holding up the book from which she had read out loud.

"I don't think so," Klaus said. "Perhaps another castaway will arrive, and continue the history."

"In any case," Sunny said, "they'll have something to read."

Please realize how important this dialogue is. Daniel Handler placed this dialogue here to make sure the reader understood the source of information Lemony had access to: the island book. The children wrote about their own story in that book, including their thoughts, feelings, and private conversations. The children shared some details about ancient events, about when Sunny wasn't even born. In the book, Lemony found details about some events that took place on the island before the arrival of the three Baudelaires.

"I want to make sure these life jackets I've designed will fit properly."

Well... It's good to know that, even though the boat sank, the Baudelaires had lifeboats. Their chances of survival really increased a lot. And knowing that Beatrice Jr managed to survive a shipwreck, it's quite possible that they did too.

The Baudelaires watched her approach, wondering what the next chapter in this infant's life would be, and indeed that is difficult to say. There are some who say that the Baudelaires rejoined V.F.D. and are engaged in brave errands to this day, perhaps under different names to avoid being captured. There are others who say that they perished at sea, although rumors of one's death crop up are often revealed to be untrue. But in any case, as my investigation is over, we have indeed reached the last chapter of the Baudelaires' story, even if the Baudelaires had not.

Lemony just reports here what he heard. Although Daniel Handler intentionally wishes the ending to be left open, and I will respect his decision, I will speak my opinion. They didn't die at sea, though. Note that Lemony directly relates the baby's future to the future of the three Baudelaires. The way Lemony wrote here suggests that the baby's future is as uncertain as the future of her adoptive parents. But we TBL readers know the truth about Beatrice Jr.'s future. Beatrice is alive! So the most likely situation is that her parents are also alive. ( And who knows other characters that we thought had died there on TBB... could it be that at least one of them could also have survived?)

But the question is: if Lemony knows the baby survived, why did he hide this information from the reader? Certainly to protect his niece. Lemony didn't lie, just omitted some details.

The baby paused, and looked at the back of the boat, where the nameplate had been affixed. She had no way of knowing this, of course, but the nameplate had been nailed to the back of the boat by a person standing on the very spot she was standing—at least as far as my research has shown.

Lemony once again dismantled specific knowledge through research, which could only have been done through information provided by others. Beatrice Jr needed to tell Lemony exactly where she was at that moment and Lemony needed to compare that with the information Beatrice Sr and Bertrand wrote in the island book. And then, on visiting the site, Lemony was able to ascertain the most likely position for those descriptions. While Lemony is a bit mistaken, the research process must have been like that.

Finally, she uttered a word. The Baudelaire orphans gasped when they heard it, but they could not say for sure whether she was reading the word out loud or merely stating her own name, and indeed they never learned this. Perhaps this last word was the baby's first secret, joining the secrets the Baudelaires were keeping from the baby, and all the other secrets immersed in the world. Perhaps it is better not to know what was meant by this word, as some things are better left in the great unknown. There are some words, of course, that are better left unsaid—but not, I believe, the word uttered by my niece, a word which here means that the story is over. Beatrice.

Oh... How I love this ending. That's when I felt my head explode for the first time in my life, and I'm still picking up the pieces.

[potteresque-ire]

I’ve got several asks about BJYX supertopic’s recent battle for the top CP ranking. I’ve meant to answer them the way they’re asked, but the answer gets long. Dear Anons ~ please forgive me for splitting the answers into multiple posts!

As with everything I’ve said about CPs, they’re mostly my limited observations—unlike history and news, it’s impossible to find articles about any of this that pass journalistic standards. Therefore, please consider the following to be my personal impressions and ramblings, and as usual, everyone please feel free to point out mistakes and add your own thoughts!

Everyone probably knows already, but the new drama that has brought waves to the Weibo’s CP ranking list is Word of Honour (山河令, which I will abbreviate to WoH), and the CP pairing is known as Lang Lang Ding (浪浪釘, LLD). I haven’t watched this drama yet but as a Wuxia (and slash) fan, it is on my to-watch list. Nonetheless, I’ve been watching the developments surrounding the popularity of the drama and the CPs, and I think I can make the posts long enough just with these observations alone. (I’m incredibly long winded :D )

For the CP competition, I think it’s important to point this out: the LLD supertopic is a mixed character-CP and real-person-CP supertopic, unlike the YiZhan supertopics (BJYX, ZSWW, LSFY) that are real-person-CP only. This means comparing LLD and the YiZhan supertopics is really …  comparing apples and oranges, especially when WoH is still airing (and therefore providing fresh candies for the character CP with every new episode). I therefore wish this kind of popularity competition doesn’t take root in the international fandom; it’s … a bit silly to me, really. It makes little sense.

That said, however, I understand why c-turtles are fighting so hard for the #1 CP spot. C-ent (as is true with many other aspects in the country), numbers and ranking are everything. That 20(?), 40(?) minutes during which BJYX supertopic fell to #2 the first time already made “news” headlines that claimed that WoH had surpassed The Untamed (TU)—an even stranger comparison, if one thinks about it. BJYX, technically speaking, doesn’t have anything to do with TU. It’s a GG/DD real person CP.

But it doesn’t matter—numbers are numbers, and they talk to c-ent watchers, the commercial interests looking for their most promising future investments. The perceived power of c-turtles hinges on them and by power, I mean both fan power and spending power, which are almost synonymous terms in c-ent. Many of you have probably seen those charts that rank the popularity of c-ent entertainers by how much goods, in monetary value, they’re able to sell. How much do the c-turtles contribute to these monetary values? Are they, as a collection of fans, worth keeping, worth wooing?

The notion that only the fan’s spending power means something may cause unease in many i-turtles—and it is, indeed, a very cold-hearted assessment, as it implies that fans are little more than living wallets to be emptied. My observations have been that such a notion doesn’t bother c-turtles for the most part and, IMHO, they’re being realistic for their sociopolitical environment. They also respond to this notion accordingly—while it is difficult to tease out the exact percentage of turtles among Gg and Dd’s active fans (fans that make major purchases goods and merchandises), c-turtles have previously demonstrated their ability to contribute a substantial fraction (in the 10s of percent) of money spent on Gg and Dd. As these splits are only very occasionally visible to the public, the CP ranking likely serves as a constant reminder of c-turtles enormous fan/spending power — without which, Gg and Dd’s popularity will also take a hit.

In that sense, c-turtles are fighting for their right-to-exist. Remember when I talked about the “traditional” thinking that CPFs < solos, and that one CPF = one (loyal) solo lost? This means c-turtles must be able to demonstrate their ability to offer something that the solos cannot, and more importantly, that their offer will not come in any other name. If c-turtles proved last year that they wouldn’t change their name to solos, then this year they’re set to prove they’ll not change their name to LLDs or other CPFs. 

If the latter sounds a bit like a battlecry, it may be exactly that. Ever since the announcements of the long line of upcoming Dangai’s, ample inflammatory posts have been made on the platform to get c-turtles to “defect” to the new dramas, or predict that as soon as another pair of random, beautiful men start to throw candies on screen, c-turtles will promptly forget about Gg and Dd and join the fun. The latter, especially, can be quite insulting to read, as one can imagine. However, with c-turtles being a loosely connected group of millions, despite their apparent firm stance that they shall stay turtle, their underlying nerves that these “insults” may turn out to be true can also be felt — the worry that c-turtledom will haemorrhage when the next popular Dangai with enticing M/M CPs (character or real person) come along. 

WoH, as the first drama that fits the criteria, is therefore a test— a test that many c-turtles likely view they must pass with flying colours to prove their point, to stand with their heads held high among those who do not care about BJYXSZD (not necessarily solos—many solos, BTW, have actually helped the turtles out this time); to show that turtles are not only every bit as loyal as other Gg and Dd fans, they’re not so … cheap as to take any random “industrial saccharine” (工業糖精; referring to ZQSG-free candies created solely to lure in fans) and walk away.

The reform of the BJYX supertopic (which now allows candy analysis and explains the sudden appearance of many old candies), the flood of BTS videos from almost every Zhan Jie previously involved with the YiZhan CPs, the temporary retaking of the top 3 CP spots by BJYX+ZSWW+LSFY ... can therefore be viewed as a rally of c-turtles. The message is: we’re not going anywhere. We’ve got enough candies that no other (M/M) CPs can hope to match in quantity, in quality.

(And the parade is indeed impressive.) (The reform also didn’t come out of thin air; there have been discussions about the supertopic’s candy sharing rules before.)

Some c-turtles have rightfully been concerned about how such a parade of candies can affect Gg and Dd. They point out that some candies should still remain 閱後即焚 (“burn after reading”, instant return to hiding after release like certain BTS videos); that at some point, c-turtles have to let go of their obsession of staying on top of the CP rankings. TU is already almost 2 years old, and being a little lower on the CP ranking list will take the heat off the YiZhan fandoms in the long run, incite less outside forces trying to fan the flames between the shrimps and the motors and the turtles.

The rules and guidelines of c-turtledom therefore remain a work in progress, and c-turtles, the millions of them, are still learning as they go.

Personally, I have faith in what will come. I also haven’t been too concerned about the candy parade, because most information is already out there for those who’re determined to find them — on Bilibili, Douyin, Zhihu etc. I spent some time talking about the Gg Assistant fic not with the goal of eliciting pain or panic, but rather, as a demonstration of why it has been the tradition of CPFs—not only the turtles—to play things very cautiously, with 閱後即焚 and 圈地自萌 (“to play within the circle”; ie, keep all information and candies within CPFs) being the default rules even after removing the “queer factor” from the discussion. Real person CPs have fate as one of their writers and so, unlike character CPs, their candies can have unintended, unpredictable consequences. As the YiZhan fandoms have now grown big enough that their candies can no longer be realistically well-contained, it may not be such a bad idea for especially the sensitive candies to return under the “jurisdiction” of the BJYX supertopic, so to speak. c-turtles can then gain better control of their comes-and-goes. Their narratives.

(CPN below.)

About narratives. @rainbowsky have previously written a thoughtful piece on the possible reasons the YiZhan fandoms have been allowed to thrive, and I’d like to add the following hypothesis—it may be a way to take pre-emptive control of the Gg/Dd narrative in preparation for the scenario where their relationship is exposed without their consent. Some i-turtles, I think, may have already gained a sense of how ruthless, cruel and above all, quick the c-ent rumour mill can be. If Gg and Dd get outed by a third party, chances are they won’t have time at all to create a fresh narrative, and the one that come out of the rumour mill will likely be … very ugly, containing every worst misconception people have against homosexual relationships. Whereas now, c-turtles already have a narrative at hand—the canon-fanon that, while c-turtles may not agree on every detail, is largely agreed upon on the important milestones. The supporting materials are also ready: the videos, the images, the voice and arrow guides on them.  

For me, another interesting question is whether this c-turtle rally and parade of candies are truly necessary in the end.

I’m curious about what will happen to the LLD supertopic when WoH completes its airing. There’s really no precedence for this kind of a mixed character + real person M/M CP supertopic setup — the history of Dangai is short, of popular Dangai’s, even shorter.

Guardian (鎮魂), the first successful Dangai aired exactly a year before TU (in the summer of 2018), never had a dedicated CP supertopic (please holler if I got this wrong! I know there’re Guardian fans here ~ hello! *waves*). Discussions of Guardian’s CPs were found within the drama’s supertopic (剧版镇魂); the real-person-CP also never had its own name; its discussions were hidden under the character CP (巍瀾) tag.

Then came TU. Its real person CP (BJYX) split away from its character CP (WangXian) long before the airing for the drama—the birthdate of the BJYX supertopic was 2018/04/28 (TU’s airing date: 2019/06/27).

After TU, two Dangai dramas have already aired before WoH that seemed to have largely passed the attention of i-fandom: The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty (成化十四年) and Winter Begonia (鬢邊不是海棠紅). Winter Begonia, in particular, was well received. Their character CPs never really took off, however, being conceived and perceived as more brotherhood than romance. Age also played a factor for Winter Begonia—Yun Zheng (尹正), known to many turtles as Dd’s motorcycle buddy, is 34, and Huang Xiaoming (黃曉明) is 43. The associated real person CPs also never became popular as a result; Huang Xiaoming’s famous marriage to a beautiful actress also meant that a real person CP was likely to be off the table for Winter Begonia from the start.

The best reference I can think of then, when it comes to speculating the fate of LLD, is therefore the fates of the CP supertopics of 2020’s summer hit, Love and Redemption (琉璃). I’ve talked about its character CP before; essentially, just days after the drama was done airing, the (het) character CP (初遇夫婦) was broken up and in a manner largely criticised as unnecessarily cruel to CP fans. Its supertopic closed immediately afterwards. The supertopic for the real-person-CP (冰橙汁) got to live, however, and is still active today.

The commercial forces behind WoH will likely break the character CP as soon as the drama is done airing; popular het and non-het character CPs in the recent years have gone through similar fates. What does this mean to LLD then? Does it mean the supertopic will be shutdown, since the drama itself already has its own supertopic? But what will happen then to its real-person CP, which has been incorporated within the LLD supertopic? Will the real-person CP be broken at the same time as the character CP to allow for immediate “purification” of real person CP fans into solo fans, to avoid future “headaches” like BYYX—a bound between the actors that cannot be severed—or 227 that, in the eyes of many passerbys, remains an issue of solo vs cpfs?

Only time will tell, and I very sincerely hope it’ll get a happy ending. Fans are made to love, and it saddens me every time to see them being severed from their loves, or pitted against each other especially when it’s clear it’s the social media platforms, the commercial interests behind the scenes — not just the production/media companies but the YXHs, the water armies — who will reap the benefits in the end. Personally, I feel no joy in seeing anyone’s favourites getting torn down, even if they aren’t my own. Gg and Dd’s safety — and the safety of every upstanding, hardworking c-ent entertainer like them — doesn’t hinge so much on their CP or solo or drama ranking, but whether their fans can refrain from bringing their conflicts into the public eye, from “occupying social resources”—ie, deflecting the public’s attention from the “core socialist values” the government intends it to focus on.

Fandom is big enough for us all.

[jungkxook]

Love that you ignore messages about the fact you create explicit pornography about people without their consent <3 since there will never be valid justification, maybe you should reconsider creating and distributing porn about real life people, whether they are celebrity or not, they deserve to be respected.

Do you ever feel guilty for consuming/producing porn about real ppl (Jungkook) without his consent?

i assume both asks i got were from you. i don’t suspect you want to hear any sort of rebuttal to this as an argument but, for the sake of it, and to clarify why i write smut, here goes it:

in general when it comes to fic writing, i don’t actually perceive the bts members or any idol as the characters that i write. for me, i’ve disassociated them so much from the writing that they become a placeholder, with their actual physical attributes and names attached to said character but a personality that i create and establish that is entirely different and that i don’t associate with them at all for obvious reasons (#1 being that i don’t know them personally).

that being said, i can see why and how that would come across as distasteful to some but, at the same time, smut has a massive history of being on the internet and being favoured and enjoyed by a vast majority. erotic novels and erotic content in general has skyrocketed to mainstream popularity in the last few years too (some examples being, whether you consider them good or bad, 50 shades, 365 days, a court of thorn and roses by sarah j. maas targeted towards young adults). i only mention that because i think it’s unfair to a certain degree to blame and/or shame people who write/read smut, when smut at its base core is a way for people to explore their sexuality.

i also think it’s normal for someone to be physically attracted to a celebrity if it’s expressed in a harmless way. i think it’s especially important for young people to explore the topic of sex and physical attraction (when they’re ready and at their own time) when sex has always been seen as a taboo in the public eye. experiencing sexual thoughts is normal, and at the same time it’s perfectly normal not to experience anything sexual at all - but i feel like for some people it may be helpful to explore that topic first through written smut before experiencing it in the real world. and while, yes, smut can be very exaggerated and not at all like real sex, there are some aspects of it that someone might read and apply to a real life situation.

but that’s a longwinded rant that you probably won’t read. if the smut is being written on a site that bts and any other group aren’t on and they aren’t being explicitly tagged in that content and have no chance of seeing it (and if that content is tagged accordingly as smut/hidden under a read more/marked as nsfw), i don’t see the harm in having it exist.

[stagandsteer]

Complete transcript of the Wonderland interview, by Catherine Santino, below the cut :)

In 1993, the year in which Freeform’s new thriller series Cruel Summer opens, actor Froy Gutierrez was yet to be born. Chat rooms and beepers, just two of the symbols of 90’s culture featured in the show, were absent in Gutierrez's own childhood. Instead, the 22 year old grew up among the endless, glowing feeds of social media — and the inevitable pressures that they create.

“There’s a kind of self-awareness that comes from growing up with the internet, which everyone in our cast did,” Gutierrez, who stars in the upcoming series, tells me over Zoom — his boyish charm tangible across the screen. “We’re all technically Gen Z or like, older Gen Z. And so you have to unburden yourself from curating a persona online.”

Due to the dizzying evolution of technology in the past two decades, Gutierrez and I had drastically different experiences with the internet growing up — even though he’s only seven years my junior. I fondly remember a time without the prevalence of social media, while Gutierrez was born into an era where internet presence was not only common, but expected.

Like most of Gutierrez’s peers, the actor was active on social media from a young age, but his presence has quietened over the years — even with 1.7 million instagram followers. “If there’s a general consensus on the internet of a certain readership or viewership, you know about it, because people tweet about it directly to you,'' he says. “There’s a kind of lumping in of the character you’re playing with who you are, that people do. I don’t know if it’s intentional. It’s probably just a human thing, but that happens. And it can be hard not to internalize what you read about yourself, you know? Words have power.”

In 2017, Gutierrez appeared on supernatural MTV drama Teen Wolf, a show with a massive internet fandom. Suddenly, fan theories and commentaries about his character, Nolan Holloway, came in droves, something that the young actor wasn’t necessarily prepared for. “I was still a teenager,” he says. “Around that time, you're an adult, but you’re still figuring things out. So I learned where to set my boundaries because I didn’t know where they were beforehand.”

When Cruel Summer came around, Gutierrez assumed he would be portraying the “desirable young male” he was used to auditioning for. “The first time I read the character, it definitely felt like an archetype. When I auditioned for it, I walked in and was very much myself, and Michelle Purple and Jessica Biel responded very well to it.” However, after he got the role and production ramped up, he was pleasantly surprised. “It didn’t really hit me that they were wanting to take him in such a unique direction until I showed up for wardrobe one day to do my first fitting for the pilot,” Gutierrez recalls. “I looked at the mood board for Jamie and it was like, young Heath Ledger, Keanu Reeves and Kurt Cobain. And I was like ‘Oh shit, I need to step my game up,’” he laughs. “I couldn’t get by doing the same thing that I’ve always done when it comes to characters like that.”

Cruel Summer takes place over the course of three years — ‘93, ‘94, and ‘95 — showing splices of each year in every episode. Produced by Jessica Biel, Tia Napolitano, and Michelle Purple, it centres around the kidnapping of a teenage girl and the fallout of the crime in her community in Skylin, Texas. Gutierrez plays Jamie Henson, the boyfriend of the missing girl, Kate. In her absence, a quiet nerd named Jeanette suddenly rises the social ranks and assumes Kate’s place — including dating Jamie. When Kate returns, Jeanette is suspected to be involved in her disappearance, throwing Jamie into some seriously challenging circumstances. His character could easily be a one-dimensional archetype — and truthfully, I expected him to be — but Cruel Summer took the opportunity to explore toxic masculinity and its widespread impact.

We see Jamie caught in the middle of conflict, unsure how to respond to a traumatic event that certainly no teenager expects to be faced with. He’s not a hero, but he’s not a villain either. It’s unclear whether we’re supposed to root for Jamie or not, which makes him that much more interesting to watch. “He talks a lot about his desire to protect the people around him, regardless of whether or not they asked him to protect them,” Gutierrez says of his character. “He kind of superimposes his own idea of what the people around him need. In order to maintain the peace of the people around him, he kind of robs the people around him of their agency. It’s just a really fascinating character to play in that way.”

Gutierrez has also been able to explore the ethics of true crime in a time when the genre is exploding in popularity. Though Cruel Summer is fictional, it questions the effect that public opinion can have on criminal cases — and perhaps more importantly — the well-being of the people involved. “When it comes to the investigation of a crime, you have to weigh the good it can bring into the world versus the bad it can bring. Or making one person seem suspect, or airing the dirty laundry of a private citizen for the viewership of loads of people.”

Despite his eloquent reflections on Jamie throughout our conversation, it’s clear that Gutierrez doesn’t take himself too seriously. He speaks into the camera like we’re old friends on FaceTime, and when my dog unexpectedly jumps into my frame, he gushes excitedly and asks what her name is. He’s able to laugh at himself one minute and share poignant truths the next. It’s refreshing, much like Cruel Summer.

Another likely contributor to the show’s authenticity? The fact that the cast was kept in the dark when it came to overarching plot points. Instead of knowing the show’s trajectory ahead of time, the actors would receive scripts for the next episode while they were filming — and they were subject to change. “We didn’t know where it was going,” Gutierrez says. “And we were told, “‘This might happen here, or this might happen there.’ And it would shift around.”

Without foresight into their character’s arc, the actors have no choice but to focus only on where they were in that moment — a difficult task when a single episode spans three very different years. Gutierrez faced an even greater challenge, as, unlike the two female leads, his character didn’t undergo any drastic physical transformations over the three years.

“I didn’t really compartmentalise the character,” he explains. “I kind of thought of the different years as different phases in my own life. The first year, ‘93, was a complete absence of any regret. You’re still very young, I was just thinking of like, a complete golden retriever,” he laughs. “A 16-year old boy who just wants the best and isn’t aware. ‘94 is me right before I made the decision to go to therapy, where I was making all these bad decisions and I didn’t know why. And then ‘95 was a whole desire to wrestle with those things and really look at yourself in the mirror and take accountability.”

Gutierrez didn’t only infuse personal experience into his behind-the-scenes work — some aspects made it onto the screen. The actor, whose father is Mexican, grew up spending time between Mexico and Texas and is a native Spanish speaker. Because Cruel Summer is set in Texas, Gutierrez suggested creating a similar background for Jamie.

“I was talking with Tia Napolitano, the show-runner, and I was like, ‘Hey, you know what would be really cool? What if the character is half-Mexican, too?’” Gutierrez says. “And she's like, ‘Oh, yeah, let’s write it in the script.’ And I got to write a couple lines in Spanish, which is really cool. [Jamie] could have been this mould of a cool, likeable jock. And then he ended up being this very nuanced human being, which is awesome.”

Though he is learning to appreciate all parts of his heritage, Gutierrez hasn’t always embraced his identity. “I remember feeling like I might have been not American enough for America, and not Mexican enough for Mexico,” he says. “And I remember having a bit of time in which I had an accent in both languages. Even my name — in Mexico I always went by ‘Froylan’, which is my full name. And then in the U.S., I went by Froy, because I thought it would be easier for other people to say.”

He continues: “I identify as Latino, but I”m also very wary of auditioning for Latino roles because I’m aware I don’t look like a typical Latino person. I don’t want to be someone that you can just sub in for that role, when I’m really white and blonde. And so whenever I do get a role like this, one where he’s not written to be any particular direction and we’re able to collaborate, I’m able to inject some of myself in there. So it’s been really cool to embrace all sides of my history.”

But of course, as is true for Gutierrez, Jamie’s cultural background is only a small part of who he is. Cruel Summer is committed to portraying him as a nuanced character that breaks the moulds of masculinity while tackling complex inner conflict. “Living in his shoes and walking in them, a big question that came up for me was, ‘What is the difference between guilt and shame? [Jamie]’s coping mechanism was terrible and unhealthy, and caused more pain for the people around him. But at the same time, the shame that he internalized made it worse for him. One thing I really learned, is that shame is about yourself and beating yourself up. And guilt is about taking accountability and apologising, moving forward without expecting the relationship to come back. It's just about trying to heal what happened and then moving on, on the terms that the other person sets. It’s not about you, and I think that’s what the character learns throughout the show.”

[horizon-verizon]

@miloisthebestdog, in the comments.

First, I am talking about the books for the most part. If I am referring to the show, I will say it.

You either are making a bad faith argument on purpose or just...like that. Who said that Aegon (II) shouldn't behead people actively trying to crown different kings? Was that the argument I was making? If you truly think so, go back and reread very carefully.

IF your issue is not terrible reading comprehension (which for your sake, I hope it is), then you are purposefully trying to redirect the issue at hand so you can defend the real thing being bashed here.

The real thing being bashed here is the double standards made for Rhaenyra versus Aegon (II)'s actions not as their characters themselves or their specific characters but how men vs women's actions are interpreted and told as inherently different when they perform exactly the same actions for the sole purpose of protecting their own seats of power. Rhaenyra and Aegon represent a bigger fish, a criticism to be made of readers (probably like you) AS WELL AS the patriarchal Westerosi society that makes a man's violent actions as "necessary" and even "natural", but when a woman does something similar--even to those who have to be eliminated like slavers, rapists, etc.--she's painted as "evil". These double standards reveal a clear preference for male leaders in many forms as long as they aren't disabled or have a certain look or have people actively plotting against them; women, though, will receive every sort of insult, criticism, etc for even attempting to just keep power that has been taken from her, even power granted--by all rights--legally, as Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir and that is how succession in Westeros works.

I must also remind you that the only "law(s)" are what monarchs declare. In general, no matter the station or rank of the noble house (royals are nobles, just the highest ranking ones and the ones usually making the final decisions for the entire state), the only person who makes official and legitimate decisions for the next leader of the house is the actual house leader...who also happens to be Viserys I of House Targaryen. He made a decision for his own house as well as the state, so Rhaenyra would also have been the head of House Targaryen. And for years we see he made no change or indication of hesitation enough for others to notice. To decide who will be the next lord/lady/monarch is entirely the current lord/lady/monarch's privilege and right--even after they die and others plot against the heir, that heir has the strongest claim....and why? Because they were the declared heir. That's how it works. Viserys absolutely knew rhaenyra had children who were not her gay, mainly absent husband's and we have a written moment where Viserys--again, head of the house and final authority--say to Jacaersdy that he will become the next monarch after Rhaeyra since they boy happened to be her oldest. Corlys as well would have known and accepted these 3 V boys. We can preach all we like about how bastards cannot inherit, but we go back in both real and Westerosi history--if you don't know, brush yourself up on it or look through my post HERE, HERE, HERE where I again provide a list and context--bastards certainly did inherit or they were eventually respected either through conquest or displays of strength and skill. this tells us two things: people have always had the choice and ability to accept/not accept bastards and they do so according to their own desires, will, and advantage AND bastardy is not a real thing but a legal thing made up to suit the current people's interests in whatever creative way they can take advantage of when it comes to public opinion about bastards through Faith's bogus narratives about it or else. While the boys are not Laenor's, they are very much "Velaryon" ALL by need & affection from Viserys and Corlys and their response to the societal uber restrictions on female autonomy/succession rights AND the problem of Laenor simply being unable to impregnate Rhaenyra. The same woman, who, unlike Aegon II, only slept with a total of 2 men we know of in the original story and 4 men in the show for her entire life. Her kids, can ride dragons and just have better moral characters & competencies than any of Alicent's children (Heleana is too socially restricted bc she is a woman on top of her seemingly just being one of those people happy to be there and being a mom, book or show. She is not "bad" but she certainly has not been "bred" or at least nudged to rule).

So if you wish to try to argue with me about "oh, what about the lords?! What about Westerosi law! Rhaenyra's sons are bastards! Rhaenyra is a slut and endangered Westeros/House Targaryen", Don't say I haven't told you what is up here. Up to you to read the links, not my problem.

Aegon II did NOTHING for the realm but execute the smallfolk who were claiming for rights (Gaemon Palehair’s court) and wasting the crown money to build ridiculous and goofy ass golden statues of his brothers AMIDST THE WAR.

No arguments here. I'm assuming that you're responding to this POST. I remain annoyed that people find Rhaenyra to be the absolute worst thing that could have happened for Westeros because she had no plans of doing as Daenerys would have wanted to do for the smallfolk, and then we have most Targ men (and Westerosi lords, aristocratic patriarchy, hello?!) do fuck all for these people, yet are unquestioned as to the "right" to the throne.