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brandimolitor · 2 years

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For the last decade I swore up and down I’d never own a house. I convinced myself owning a home was a giant scam by big banks to keep us trapped in debt for 30 years.

Over the course of the last month I’ve been exploring buying houses.

In Michigan. A state I said I’d never live in for more than a year (I’m going on 6 years).

Owning a home might very well be a scam (what do I know, really) and Michigan might not be the best state to live in, but here I am.

I’m coming out, y’all — I might be a homeowner in the midwest. Maybe. I kinda-almost-sorta have my fingers crossed behind my back when I say this.

Because, I might change my mind again, too.

For the longest time, though, I didn’t think I had permission to change my mind.

I mean, “What would people think?!”

I tended to be a person that was fairly alternative when it came to lifestyle. Including living situations and places. I subscribed to “being different.” I had this idea that being unique was some sort of specialness. Owning a home in the Midwest doesn’t really fit that “brand” of person. Like, seriously, if you know my personality well enough, most people think I belong in Portland, Austin, Asheville, Boulder, and ya know, here I soon might be an official Michigander.

Am I “selling out” if I choose to stay?

Nah. I just feel a little differently right now. I’m not stuck in a box sealed up with concrete.

I remember the first time I learned one of my beloved spiritual mentor yogi’s who was just the most amazing woman I ever laid eyes on in the world of goddess-like-essence, smoked cigarettes and ate bacon.

Uhhhh what? Women like you aren’t supposed to….

Ya feel me? What we think about ourselves we project outward.

“I forced myself to fit into this tiny ass box so you have to, too. Get in that tiny box I designed for you, ya little rascal. Don’t ruin this perfect image I have for you.”

Some simple examples, but…

We live in a society where dogma rules. We say we are this or that and then feel this pressure to subscribe to whatever that organized thought says we must believe. It tells us how to act, be, think, do. Some find comfort in this. They think "if I do this, as I’m told, then this will happen.”

But, life is messy. Very messy. And complex! And filled with subtleties.

We do things we swear we’d never do. We find ourselves in situations like the people we judged, when we claimed “I could never do that.”

Like the client I had who was at the top of his game financially that everyone looked up to, who make a big business mistake and ended up bankrupt and lost his house and all of his relationships.

He changed his mind about the need for money.

Our dominant culture makes us think we have to follow a strict set of orders in order to, what? Be loved? Be safe? Make it to heaven?

When we find ourselves outside of these rigid barriers of “being good and right” we tend to feel shame, guilt, regret… we want to hide.

We sadly start to shun the growth within us, because what’s truly emerging in these moments is compassion, understanding, gratitude and empathy.

I learned the reason I’m able to hold so much space for others in their struggles is because I’ve been through some shit. I really get the pain and humanness on this journey we are calling life. If I didn’t fumble so much and learn the hard way at times and find myself time and time again doing things I said I’d never do “because hey, someone ‘like me’ would ‘never do that’ then I wouldn’t understand why people do the things they do and understand the complex and nuanced feelings and experiences around all of it. It makes me really good at what I do. In turn, I’m grateful for the pain and trials. Only because I was able to rise from them all (and continue to) in the space of compassion and not more judgement on myself and others.

Pema Chodron, a well-known Buddhist monk shares:

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded, it’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.”

When we embrace feminine-based leadership, there’s room for compassion and integration of the full-range of humanness. The rigidness and hierarchy of patriarchy, dogma and constructed systems leave little room for curiosity, integration, connection and compassion.

We hold these standards and these rigid beliefs to feel more secure in our perceived sense of hierarchy in this world.

Closer to god, maybe.

But people don’t work well in the world of absolutes.

The flow of life resists absolutes. Human beings at their core, when connected to the flow of nature, naturally resist having to make black and white declarations — like how society tells us we must subscribe.

Over time, the mind cons itself. It robs the spirit of experiencing true humanity and it becomes more rigid. Like all things that are rigid and unbending, the spirit becomes bitter and brittle. Hearts constrict. Actions no longer come from a place of love but from a place of fear.

The lesson in compassion is lost. Connection and intimacy forgone.

People find themselves protesting against the things they hate the most about themselves. There's a belief that by shaming others over the things they feel most ashamed of is somehow healing or absolving themselves.

The fear of embracing ones own humanness becomes far scarier than projecting out the pain and judgement onto others.

You see, when allowed, life leads you to a place of changing your mind.

When we get that life is a tapestry of choices and mistakes and hard things and luck and privilege and chance, we shift. We have to. Otherwise we get hardened and deny what life is. That’s what integration is and what feminine leadership is (and, PS, you don’t have to identify as woman to embrace feminine leadership).

So how does this relate to Courageous Leadership?

Where do you find yourself feeling obligated or trapped into a certain way of being, operating, or committing? Where do you feel you want to soften more but find that you are speaking in terms of absolutes?

Ask yourself if this is a conceptual trap seeped in dogma or expectations from others. Ask yourself if this is a way to rid yourself of your own internal judgement.

Is there a sense of curiosity or exploration you are interested in exploring but feel too scared to do so?

These areas are open for exploration as a leader where you can have more compassion towards yourself.

Where are you so full of fear, shame, guilt and “being seen” that it’s causing you to not choose powerfully in a way that resonates most with you?

You CAN be many things and then change your mind later if you want to. If it doesn’t fit into a mold or a belief system, you have permission to expand and shift.

You really, really do.

And when we practice more from a place of love and compassion, the world becomes a radically more loving and compassionate place.

You can trust me on that.

You’re not trapped. You can change your mind on things you once believed to be absolutely true.

#brandi

#brandimolitor

#brandi molitor

#leadership coach

#courageousleadership

#leadership

#leadership development

#grand rapids business coach

#grand rapids life coach

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that-disabled-radfem · 3 years

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Happy back-to-school y’all

I’ve attended and worked at a couple of super liberal universities. I avoid the gender studies departments for obvious reasons and I still had a lecture in which the female prof gave a brief overview of TERFs and proclaimed her hatred of JKR. Being openly critical of gender ideology, the porn industry, kinks, and ‘sex work’ are the kind of things that can ruin your future in academia. Not to mention the fact that any speech or actions that could be labelled transphobic (ie. defining woman as adult human female) can get you a suspension according to many universities anti-hate-speech policies.

So, here’s a list of small and smallish (small in terms of overt TERFery, some may require more effort than others) radical feminist actions you can take as a university student:

(this is a liberal arts perspective so if you’re a stem gal this may not apply. but also if you’re in stem maybe you can actually acknowledge that women are oppressed as a sex class without getting kicked out of school. idk)

(Note for TRAs hate reading this: One of the core actions of radical feminism is creating female networks. This is not so that we can brainwash people into being anti-trans. This is because female solidarity is necessary for creating class consciousness and overturning patriarchy. It is harder to subjugate the female sex when we stand together.)

Take classes with female profs. Multiple sections of a class? Pick the one taught by a woman. Have to chose an elective? Only look at electives offered by women. When classes have low numbers they get cancelled. When classes are super popular, universities are forced to consider promoting the faculty that teach them

Make relationships with these female profs. Go to office hours. Chat after class. Ask them about their research. Building female networks is sooooo important!

Actually fill in your end of year course feedback forms. Profs often need these when applying for tenure or applying for a job at another university so it is very important (especially with young and/or new profs) that you fill out these forms and give specific examples of how great these women are. Go off about what you love about them! Give her a brilliant review because you know the idiot boy in that class who won’t shut up even though he knows nothing is going to give her only negative feedback because he thinks any woman who leaves the house is a feminazi b*tch.

(note: obviously don’t go praising any prof - female or male - who is blatantly racist, homophobic, etc.)

(Also if you have shitty male profs write down all the horrible things they have done and said and put it in these forms because once a shitty man gets tenure they are virtually untouchable)

(also also, leave a good review on rate my profs or whatever other thing students use to figure out if they want to take classes. idc if you copy paste your feedback from the formal review. rave about the class to your friends. do what you can to get good enrolment for that prof for reasons above.)

Participate in class. Talk over the male students. Say what you mean and mean it. Call out the boys when they say dumb shit

Write about women. If you have the option to make a text written by a woman your primary text in an essay, do it. Pick the female-centred option if you’re writing an exam-essay with multiple prompts. (Profs often look at what works on their syllabus are being written about/engaged with as a marker of whether to keep those texts the next time they teach the class. If there are badass women on your syllabus, write about them to keep them on the syllabus) Use female-written secondary sources whenever possible.

(pro tip: many women in academia are more than happy to talk to you about their papers. expand your female networks by reaching out to article authors through email and asking them about their cool shit)

Get your essays published! Many departments have undergrad journals you can publish in. This will ensure more people read about the women you write about and will demonstrate to the department that people like learning about women

Consider trying to publish your undergrad essay with a legit peer-reviewed journal. If you can do it, your use of female-written secondary sources boosts the reputations of the women who wrote those secondary sources. Also this helps generally to increase scholarship about women’s writing!

Present your papers at conferences! Many schools have their own undergraduate/departmental conferences that you can present at. Push yourself by submitting to outside conferences. Bring attention to women’s works by presenting your papers. Take a space at a conference that would otherwise be reserved for mediocre men

Talk to your profs and/or your department and/or your university about mandating the inclusion of female works in classes if this isn’t something they do already

Sit next to other women in your classes. Talk to them. Make friends. Form study groups. Proofread each other’s essays. Give each other knowing looks when the boys are being dumb. Just interact with other women! Build those female networks!

Be generous with your compliments. A female classmate and I were talking to a prof after class and the classmate told me (out of the blue) that I always have such interesting things to say. I think about that whenever I’m lacking confidence about my academic skills. Compliment the women in your classes for speaking up, for sharing their opinions, for challenging your classmates/profs, for doing cool presentations, etc.

Talk to other women about sexist things going on on campus. Make everyone aware of the sexist profs. Complain about how there are many more tenured men than tenured women. Go on rate my professor and be explicit about how the sexist profs are sexist

Be active on campus and in societies. If a society has an all male executive or is male-dominated, any women who join that society make it less intimidating for more women to join. Run for executive positions! Bring in more women!

(Pro tip: Many societies’ elections are super gameable. You can be eligible to vote in a society election sometimes just by being a student at that university — even without having done anything with the society before. Other societies might just require that you’ve taken a class in a particular department or attended a society event. (Check the society’s governing documents.) Use those female networks you’ve been building. If you can bring three or four random people to vote for you, that might be enough for you to win. Societies have trouble meeting quorum (the minimum number of people in attendance to do votes) so it is really super achievable to rig an election with a few friends. And don’t feel bad about this. The system is rigged against women so you have every right to exploit loopholes!)

(Also feel free to go vote “non-confidence”/“re-open election” if only shitty men are running. Too often people see that only candidates they don’t like are running and so they give up. But you can actually stop them getting elected)

Your campus may have a LGBTQIA+alphabetsoup society. That society definitely needs more L and B women representation. It may be tedious to argue with the nb straight dudes who insist that it’s fine to use “q***r” in the society’s posters and that attraction has nothing to do with genitals, but just imagine what could happen if we could make these sorts of societies actually safe spaces for same-sex attracted women and advocated for our concerns

Attend random societies’ election meetings. Get women elected and peace out. (or actually get involved but I’m trying to emphasize the lowest commitment option with this one)

Write for the campus newspaper. Write about what women are doing - women’s sports, cool society activities, whatever. Review female movies, books, tv shows, local theatre productions. Write about sexism on campus. We need more female by-lines and more stories about women

Get involved with your campus’s sexual assault & r*pe hotline/sexual assault survivor’s centre/whatever similar organization your campus has if you can. This is hard work and definitely not for everyone (pls take care of yourself first, especially if you are a survivor)

(If your campus doesn’t have an organization for supporting survivor’s of sexualized violence, start one! This is probably going to be a lot of hard work though, so don’t do it alone)

Talk to your student council about providing free menstrual hygiene products on campus if your campus doesn’t already do this. If your campus provides free condoms (which they probs do), use that as leverage (ie. ‘sex is optional, menstruation is not. so why do we have free condoms and no free pads?’)

If you’re an older student, get involved with younger students (orientation week and such activities are good for this). Show the freshman that you can be a successful and well-liked woman without shaving your legs, wearing heels, wearing make-up, etc. Mentor these young women. Offer to go for coffee or proofread essays.

Come to class looking like a human being. Be visibly make-up less, unshaven, unfeminine, etc. to show off the many different ways of being a woman

Talk to the custodial staff and learn their names. (I know there are men who work in this profession, but it is dominated by low-income women) Say hi in the hallways, ask them about their lives, show them they’re appreciated

Be explicit with your language. When you are talking about sex-based oppression, say it. Don’t say ‘sex worker’ when you mean survivor of human trafficking. This tip is obviously a bit tricky in terms of overt TERFyness, so use your best judgement

That’s all from me for now! Feel free to add your suggestions and remember that feminism is about action

#back to school #university #terf safe #terfs DO interact #feminist action

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mrsbrookegillespie · 3 years

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-Chapter One- Teacher!Charlie Gillespie x Single!Mom!Reader

(Not My Gif)

This Story Was INSPIRED By @boyfriendskywalker Who Deactivated Their Account While Writing The Charlie Gillespie Kindergarten Teacher Story. I Have Taken It Upon Myself To Write My Own Version With Some Of The Storyline They Used. So, ALL Credit For Part Of The Storyline Goes To Them. This Will Be A Series, And I Will Finish It.

Description: Just Read It While I Try To Come Up With One--GOT IT! Okay, so Y/N L/N is a single mother of her daughter Y/D/N. Having it been four years since the father walked away. Y/N taught herself to never trust a man, but when Y/D/N’s teacher uses his charm to worm his way into her life, will she finally be able to open herself up to love again?

Warnings: Language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of mental abuse, and as the story goes on I’ll think of more. But, be prepared for some angst.

-Chapter One-

“One, two, three, four--”

“Mama?” Y/N looks down at the doe-eyed 5 year old. “Why are you counting?”

With a head shake, she presses her fingers onto her temples, gently massaging them. “Mama’s just tired, baby,” she explains, calmly. “And has a migraine.” Now flashing her daughter, Y/D/N, a fake smile, she starts the car. “Are you ready for school? Not gonna cause trouble again… Are you?”

“I don’t cause trouble!” Y/D/N argues, lightly kicking the back of the passenger seat. “My classmates also cause trouble, I just resolve it differently than others.” She crosses her arms with a huff.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows at her daughter's words. “Are you sure you’re five?”

“I like to say I’m six,” she says, casually.

The seriousness of the young girl’s demeanor was enough to make Y/N fall into a fit of laughter. “Well alrighty then. Six it is.” She pulls into a parking space. “We are here,” she announces, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Finally!” Y/D/N wrestles to get out of her car seat. “Could you help me out?”

Y/N gets out of the car, rushing to grab her majesty from the backseat. “Do you have everything?” she asks, setting Y/D/N down on the pavement.

Y/D/N shrugs, but resorts to saying, “Yes.”

“Good.” Y/N takes Y/D/N’s hand, guiding her into the colorful building they both grew to love and hate.

“Ms. L/N,” a female teacher says, only giving a stiff nod towards the women.

“Mrs. Winchester,” she replies mimicking the gesture. Both her and Y/D/N shiver when she passes by. “She scares me.”

Y/D/N nods dramatically, agreeing. “I think she’s a ghost,” she stage-whispers.

“Definitely.” Though Y/N’s tone might’ve been teasing, she wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.

“Hello Y/D/N!” Another young female teacher waves before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “Ugh…” She continues to walk without giving Y/N a proper greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbles under her breath.

Only a couple more awkward encounters were experienced until she heard the loud shrill of-- “Mr. Gillespie!” Y/D/N lets go of Y/N’s hand, sprinting towards the man that she called her teacher.

“Good morning Miss Y/D/N!” he greets verbally, along with a big hug. “And look who’s with you.” He moves from his crouched position to stand as tall as he could next to Y/N. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gillespie,” she responds. “Nice to feel welcomed.” Her tone turned a little colder than what it was. “I swear it was either just someone saying my name, or a judgement glare.”

“You’ll warm up to them,” he assures.

“Like I warmed up to you?” she questions. “Don’t put me under the impression that you actually like me, please, it’ll just blow my ego right out of proportion.” She uses her hands to demonstrate.

He doesn’t respond, only showing her a bright smile.

The bell rings, signaling both of them to go their separate directions. “Mr. Gillespie the bell rang,” a student calls out.

Y/N snaps out of her little daze. “And I guess Y/D/N already went to her seat. See? I knew she wasn’t that much of a troublemaker, but you know--” she cuts herself off seeing his amused expression. “You have to teach,” she blurts. “Right! Sorry, I’ll let you get to that. Bye Y/D/N!” she shouts into the filled room, Y/D/N’s face going into a look of horror. “Love you, stay safe and…” She salutes Charlie. “Good luck.” With a turn on her heel she goes to leave the building, mentally face palming herself on the way.

When in the safe space of her car, she allows her head to fall forward, which only led to her accidentally setting the horn off. It wasn’t like she’s not used to people. With being a hostess at a restaurant, all she did was talk, see, and meet a variety of different personalities and personas. But, after having to raise a daughter on her own you can say her cool way of talking, and the ability to form well rounded sentences went downhill. Baby talk does that.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you like your daughter’s hot teacher?” her friend, Madison, asks. Madison was a little bit younger than Y/N was, Madison being seventeen and Y/N being twenty-four, she couldn’t help but bond with the girl.

“That’s not what I said,” Y/N remarks, wiping down a table.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” Y/N whines.

“And I’m the teenager,” Madison snickers.

Y/N blows some of her hair out of her face. “I won’t deny that he’s… Decent looking, but the problem is in the question. ‘Daughter’s teacher’,” she repeats the words Madison said earlier.

“You told me that Y/D/N can’t get enough of what you only call ‘Mr. Gillespie’, I don’t even know his first name.” She scrunches up the right side of her face.

“Because it’s informal.”

“He calls you by your first name,” Madison replies back, bluntly. “But, back to the point. If Y/D/N really likes him then what’s the problem?”

Y/N stops her movements, giving Madison a blank stare. She opens her mouth to answer, but closes it. “I just can’t, okay? Can we please drop it?”

Madison’s eyes soften when seeing Y/N’s pleading ones. “Yeah, sure.” She leans against one of the tables.

“Hello!” someone calls out from a few feet away. “We’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, can we be seated?” The annoyance on the man's face was evident.

Y/N sends Madison a cheeky smirk. “You’re on, Mads.”

She stomps her foot, discreetly, going to the group of people who are most likely ‘hangry’. Y/N glances at her watch, seeing how it was about time she headed out for her break and got Y/D/N from school, only to have the last minute babysitter she found that morning watch her for the rest of the day, so Y/N can finish her shift. It wasn’t the most ideal schedule, but it worked. It paid the bills, it put food on the table--could it be the reason Y/D/N throws fits, and tantrums in classrooms, and seeks attention? Maybe.

“We need to set up a meeting.”

Y/N gapes at Mr. Gillespie who for the first time she’s seen with a stern look on his face. “Wh-why?” she stutters.

“I know you aren’t blind to see that Y/D/N is…” His voice fades off. “The Principal wants to set up a conference with you, me, Y/D/N, and the counselor after school one of these days.”

Y/N’s frown gets wider, glancing over towards Y/D/N in the seat next to her. The girl only kept her eyes glued to her shoes. “The only days I’m off of work are Saturdays, Sunday’ and Wednesdays.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the calendar. “Yeah, only those days, I don’t know if any of those days would work but…”

“You work all those other days?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” she answers, not thinking too much about it. She gasps loudly, when it hits her. “Work!” She looks at her watch. “I’m gonna be late going back.” She stands up. “I’ll send you an email tonight on what time works best for me, and then you as a faculty can talk amongst yourselves if it works for you. I’m gonna take my kid now, and go, so I don’t have to keep being stared at with that look you and all the other teachers give me.” She takes Y/D/N’s hand, the slight pull of it noticeable enough to have Y/N make a mental note.. “Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Gillespie.

“Bye, bye,” Y/D/N finally whispers towards him. With a weak wave they both leave the room, once out of sight running for the door. “Why were we running?” she asks, when Y/N starts to speed to their house.

“Because Mama’s gonna be late to work, and is now stressed because we have to talk to adults who don’t like her very much,” she pauses. “You and I need to have a very, very, serious conversation when I get back home on where your behavior is coming from.”

“But, I don’t wanna,” Y/D/N cries.

“I know you don’t want to, I don’t want to, but it’s one of the cons of being a parent, I have to be strict at times when you don’t follow the rules.”

“But--”

“Don’t make me yell at you,” Y/N warns. “You and I both hate yelling when you’re in trouble, so I think we’d both appreciate it if you promise to be good until I’m back, no arguing.”

Y/D/N slowly feels the tears come to her eyes. “Mr. Gillespie never yells at me.”

The name made Y/N freeze a little. Was he a part of the reason?

Taglist

@yagorlemmalyn @justxfolio @charliegillespiewife

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: As a beginner in Classics I love your Classicist themed posts. I find your caption perfect posts a lot to think upon. I suppose it’s been more than a few years since you read Classics at Cambridge but my question is do you still bother to read any Classic texts and if so what are you currently reading?

I don’t know whether to be flattered or get depressed by your (sincere) remarks. Thank you so much for reminding me how old I must come across as my youngish Millennial bones are already starting to creak from all my sins of past sport injuries and physical exertions. I’m reminded of what J.R.R Tolkien wrote, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” I know the feeling (sigh).

But pay heed, dear follower, to what Menander said of old age, Τίμα το γήρας, ου γαρ έρχεται μόνον (respect old age, for it does not come alone). Presumably he means we all carry baggage. One hopes that will be wisdom which is often in the form of experience, suffering, and regret. So I’m not ready to trade in my high heels and hiking boots for a walking stick and granny glasses just yet.

To answer your question, yes, I still to read Classical literature and poetry in their original text alongside trustworthy translations. Every day in fact.

I learned Latin when I was around 8 or 9 years old and Greek came later - my father and grandfather are Classicists - and so it would be hard to shake it off even if I tried.

So why ‘bother’ to read Classics? There are several reasons. First, the Classics are the Swiss Army knife to unpick my understanding other European languages that I grew up with learning. Second, it increases my cultural literacy out of which you can form informed aesthetic judgements about any art form from art, music, and literature. Third, Classical history is our shared history which is so important to fathom one’s roots and traditions. Fourth, spending time with the Classics - poetry, myth, literature, history - inspires moral insight and virtue. Fifth, grappling with classical literature informs the mind by developing intellectual discipline, reason, and logic.

And finally, and perhaps one I find especially important, is that engaging with Classical literature, poetry, or history, is incredibly humbling; for the classical world first codified the great virtues of prudence, temperance, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, and courage. These are qualities that we all painfully fall short of in our every day lives and yet we still aspire to such heights.

I’m quite eclectic in my reading. I don’t really have a method other than what my mood happens to be. I have my trusty battered note book and pen and I sit my arse down to translate passages wherever I can carve out a place to think. It’s my answer to staving off premature dementia when I really get old because quite frankly I’m useless at Soduku. We spend so much time staring at screens and passively texting that we don’t allow ourselves to slow down and think that physically writing gives you that luxury of slow motion time and space. In writing things out you are taking the time to reflect on thoughts behind the written word.

I do make a point of reading Homer’s The Odyssey every year because it’s just one of my favourite stories of all time. Herodotus and Thucydides were authors I used to read almost every day when I was in the military and especially when I went out to war in Afghanistan. Not so much these days. Of the Greek poets, I still read Euripides for weighty stuff and Aristophanes for toilet humour. Aeschylus, Archilochus and Alcman, Sappho, Hesiod, and Mimnermus, Anacreon, Simonides, and others I read sporadically.

I read more Latin than Greek if I am honest. From Seneca, Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Tacitus, Livy, Apuleius, Virgil, Ovid, the younger Pliny to Augustine (yes, that Saint Augustine of Hippo). Again, there is no method. I pull out a copy from my book shelves and put it in my tote bag when I know I’m going on a plane trip for work reasons.

At the moment I am spending time with Horace. More precisely, his famous odes.

Of all the Greek and Latin poets, I feel spiritually comfortable with Horace. He praises a simple life of moderation in a much gentler tone than other Roman writers. Although Horace’s odes were written in imitation of Greek writers like Sappho, I like his take on friendship, love, alcohol, Roman politics and poetry itself. With the arguable exception of Virgil, there is no more celebrated Roman poet than Horace. His Odes set a fashion among English speakers that come to bear on poets to this day. His Ars Poetica, a rumination on the art of poetry in the form of a letter, is one of the seminal works of literary criticism. Ben Jonson, Pope, Auden, and Frost are but a few of the major poets of the English language who owe a debt to the Roman.

We owe to Horace the phrases, “carpe diem” or “seize the day” and the “golden mean” for his beloved moderation. Victorian poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, of Ancient Mariner fame, praised the odes in verse and Wilfred Owen’s great World War I poem, Dulce et Decorum est, is a response to Horace’s oft-quoted belief that it is “sweet and fitting” to die for one’s country.

Unlike many poets, Horace lived a full life. And not always a happy one. Horace was born in Venusia, a small town in southern Italy, to a formerly enslaved mother. He was fortunate to have been the recipient of intense parental direction. His father spent a comparable fortune on his education, sending him to Rome to study. He later studied in Athens amidst the Stoics and Epicurean philosophers, immersing himself in Greek poetry. While led a life of scholarly idyll in Athens, a revolution came to Rome. Julius Caesar was murdered, and Horace fatefully lined up behind Brutus in the conflicts that would ensue. His learning enabled him to become a commander during the Battle of Philippi, but Horace saw his forces routed by those of Octavian and Mark Antony, another stop on the former’s road to becoming Emperor Augustus.

When he returned to Italy, Horace found that his family’s estate had been expropriated by Rome, and Horace was, according to his writings, left destitute. In 39 B.C., after Augustus granted amnesty, Horace became a secretary in the Roman treasury by buying the position of questor's scribe. In 38, Horace met and became the client of the artists' patron Maecenas, a close lieutenant to Augustus, who provided Horace with a villa in the Sabine Hills. From there he began to write his satires. Horace became the major lyric Latin poet of the era of the Augustus age. He is famed for his Odes as well as his caustic satires, and his book on writing, the Ars Poetica. His life and career were owed to Augustus, who was close to his patron, Maecenas. From this lofty, if tenuous, position, Horace became the voice of the new Roman Empire. When Horace died at age 59, he left his estate to Augustus and was buried near the tomb of his patron Maecenas.

Horace’s simple diction and exquisite arrangement give the odes an inevitable quality; the expression makes familiar thoughts new. While the language of the odes may be simple, their structure is complex. The odes can be seen as rhetorical arguments with a kind of logic that leads the reader to sometimes unexpected places. His odes speak of a love of the countryside that dedicates a farmer to his ancestral lands; exposes the ambition that drives one man to Olympic glory, another to political acclaim, and a third to wealth; the greed that compels the merchant to brave dangerous seas again and again rather than live modestly but safely; and even the tensions between the sexes that are at the root of the odes about relationships with women.

What I like then about Horace is his sense of moderation and he shows the gap between what we think we want and what we actually need. Horace has a preference for the small and simple over the grandiose. He’s all for independence and self-reliance.

If there is one thing I would nit pick Horace upon is his flippancy to the value of the religious and spiritual. The gods are often on his lips, but, in defiance of much contemporary feeling, he absolutely denied an afterlife - which as a Christian I would disagree with. So inevitably “gather ye rosebuds while ye may” is an ever recurrent theme, though Horace insists on a Golden Mean of moderation - deploring excess and always refusing, deprecating, dissuading.

All in all he champions the quiet life, a prayer I think many men and women pray to the gods to grant them when they are caught in the open Aegean, and a dark cloud has blotted out the moon, and the sailors no longer have the bright stars to guide them. A quiet life is the prayer of Thrace when madness leads to war. A quiet life is the prayer of the Medes when fighting with painted quivers: a commodity, Grosphus, that cannot be bought by jewels or purple or gold? For no riches, no consul’s lictor, can move on the disorders of an unhappy mind and the anxieties that flutter around coffered ceilings.

Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt (they change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)

Part of Horace’s persona - lack of political ambition, satisfaction with his life, gratitude for his land, and pride in his craft and the recognition it wins him - is an expression of an intricate web of awareness of place. Reading Horace will centre you and get you to focus on what is most important in life. In Horace’s discussion of what people in his society value, and where they place their energy and time, we can find something familiar. Horace brings his reader to the question - what do we value?

Much like many of our own societies, Rome was bustling with trade and commerce, ambition, and an area of vast, diverse civilisation. People there faced similar decisions as we do today, in what we pursue and why. As many of us debate our place and purpose in our world, our poet reassures us all. We have been coursing through Mondays for thousands of years. Horace beckons us: take a brief moment from the day’s busy hours. Stretch a little, close your eyes while facing the warm sun, and hear the birds and the quiet stream. The mind that is happy for the present should refuse to worry about what is further ahead; it should dilute bitter things with a mild smile.

I would encourage anyone to read these treasures in translations. For you though, as a budding Classicist, read the texts in Latin and Greek if you can. Wrestle with the word. The struggle is its own reward. Whether one reads from the original or from a worthy translation, the moral virtue (one hopes) is wisdom and enlightenment.

Pulvis et umbra sumus

(We are but dust and shadow.)

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #classical #greek #latin #horace #poetry #literature #arts #cambridge #classics #personal #study #habits #reading #books #culture #personal growth

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sometimesrosy · 3 years

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Rosy that's fantastic news for your book!! I'm really happy for you. And just seeing "bellarke consum their love and even have grandkids" makes my heart full. Bob and Eliza said tthey were disappointed that 1/the charaters couldn't have kids in the end and that 2/ there was no hope. I totally agree with their interpretation of the end. Some people said the ending was super cool, and inkeeping with the whole show, and somehow hopeful. HOW WAS IT HOPEFUL?? the human race gets wiped out...

People said the ending was “super cool?” How?

Wait. I need to wrap my head around that. What are they looking at that seems super cool?

I actually don’t have a problem of the concept of transcendence that they worked on all season, nor Cadogan, the fake-spiritual, love-your-fellow-man-but-also-sacrifice-them-because-they-mean-nothing cult leader who favored his daughter, used his son, tossed his exwife into the apocalypse and killed Becca because she had power and knowledge beyond him.

Like, that could have been super cool if they’d kept him the villain, the antagonist, but instead they made him the protagonist who was, somehow, right about transcendence as if it wasn’t just another fucking doomsday cult that wanted humanity to end. I mean, it WAS just another fucking doomsday cult that wanted humanity to end, and the aliens vacuumed up humanity and allowed for no dissent. Here, have your perfect happy transcendence...but your body dies, the world ends, and humanity is gone. That is EXACTLY what ALIE did, and she was a villain. Perhaps a well meaning villain, but a terrifying villain.

How did the SAME story, get switched around to being some sort of victory for the state of humanity? How did the end of humanity, no chance to continue on, because they removed their ability to have children and carry on?

Why couldn’t they just fucking stay on The Ring if that was going to happen. At least they could have a small community up there. But no. Without the info that our heroes brought, they wouldn’t have reached transcendence.

That wasn’t transcendence. It was judgement day. Transcendence means you have worked your way to a higher state, and yes, it might be condescending and elitist, but you at least worked for it. And it wasn’t really a judgement day because they just took everybody, despite the fact that those idiots were fighting for no fucking reason. It was a PUNISHMENT day for Clarke, one of the only people who was actually TRYING to be better and do better.

What was cool? The way the aliens brought back the people they cared for? Yes, that was cool. It wasn’t them of course, but some people would be impressed by the alien dressed up in the costume of their fav. I could see that being considered super cool. But honestly... that’s a story line that would have worked better in season 3 and in fact DID work remarkably well in season 3 when Lxa showed up in the COL. And it was ACTUALLY her, not some facsimile.

Was it cool to take away the agency of the hero of the story who we’ve been following for 7 years? Was it cool to erase the personality and motivation of our dual protagonist? Ok. So lets say you didn’t love Clarke or Bellamy. Octavia’s character was erased and she didn’t have a thing to do until the final battle, and then she got a romance that frankly made me uncomfortable but that’s taste. Echo was erased and she didn’t have a thing to do until the final battle. Raven was also erase although she got to be the one to convince the aliens that they weren’t totally awful beings. That was cool, but it seemed like a patch put on top of a story that had failed. The story being about how Clarke saves humanity, and Bellamy saves Clarke, which has been THE STORY FOR SIX YEARS. We spent six years building up a team with these two heroes who have been through so much shit and made the CHOICE to be the good guys, and in the end, Bellamy gives his power over to a charismatic obsessive leader (also happened in season 3 with Pike who was a great character and FAR better than Cadogan and actual sympathetic awful villain who thought he was saving his people while doing evil.) And Clarke actually becomes THE BAD GUY, who loses her sense of reason and commits violence due to loving too much-- a really tired, misogynistic storyline. Give women power and they go crazy. The hysterical woman. THIS DOES NOT FIT WITH CLARKE GRIFFIN. Also, we saw her go through that trauma of fear for her daughter, and she DID NOT GO CRAZY. Ruthless, yes. And then she worked through what she had done and recognized she was wrong and promised not to do that again. I honestly don’t know why she did it again. Even if Bellamy betrayed her again, it didn’t make sense that she couldn’t work through it.

They had to keep the two characters apart in order have that ending happen. Why? Because Clarke acts as the center to Bellamy and Bellamy acts as the Center to Clarke. This season is the story of the FAILURE of the duo protagonists of the show. They separated them and broke them individually, and this meant they were unable to save the universe.

Is it cool to make a show about heroes and then destroy them in the last season? But frame that destruction and the end of humanity as a VICTORY and positive ending? Maybe if you hate those characters and humanity and think there’s no hope for us anyway, so lets just burn it down.

Oh wait. I’m trying to figure out what’s SUPER COOL about that ending.

The purple sparkly aliens. Ok. How is that cool? That there’s actually an omnipotent alien out there that has the ability to just snap a whole race of people out of existence or into their big ole stew pot of consciousness.

1. Why? 2. How? 3. Where did that power come from? 4. Who are they? 5. What do they get out of erasing races and basically eating them?

Okay, putting aside the questions about how these omnipotent gods aliens came to be... is it possible they can be see as “super cool?” Let me go through.

1. Omnipotent aliens going through the universe, deciding when life forms were “ready” to be judged and then either wiping them out totally, or wiping them out totally but accepting their consciousnesses into their massive consciousness where they don’t want any “bad” lifeforms, which makes them now a higher lifeform but not at all what they once were.

Cool/Not Cool. I dunno. Kind of seems like some sort of puritanical god who willy nilly decides if people are worthy of heaven. Will He, Nil He. That’s what that means. If we’re gonna get aliens at the last minute, I want aliens. I want to know who they are and what’s up with them. THAT’S the story. Those alien guys. Instead, the story was about the flotsam and jetsam at the end of humanity, either getting swept up into the god-form in the sky or being pounded to bits on the rocks. The heroes of our story have no say in what happens. They’re toast either way. Oh you mean we can be erased into nothing or erased into your hive mind? The only way this is cool is if you like nihilism. Which, yeah, some people do. NONE of their struggle over the past six years meant a damn thing. None of it. Their beliefs, their sacrifices, their mistakes, their heroism. It al reduces down to whether those sparkly purple aliens like them or not. That’s some bullshit.

Not cool.

2. Cadogan. Cult leader from the first apocalypse who conned the bulk of his followers and left them shady shelters that let them die. Kept the good stuff for his “best” followers. Paternalistic, obsessive, ruthless, megalomaniac framing his leadership and personality as “Love for Humanity,” while discarding every human who he deemed unworthy. Including his own family. Actually. Pretty cool. AS A VILLAIN. Ending up at his cult colony in space hundreds of years later with thousands of years of development in time dilation. Cool. They’re creepy but make some bit of sense. Ok. Waking him up and then making him this fucking GURU who preaches love for humanity but sacrifices 99.9% of humanity all so that he can reach his mythical transcendence which is really the eradication of all humanity.... well, that’s actually cool. AS A VILLAIN. But somehow in the last season, Cadogan turned out to be the one who was right all along, and the story seemed to accept HIS concept that transcendence was the best thing that could happen to them, because humanity sucks and they always fight so they should be erase by paternalistic omnipotent gods. CADOGAN’S choices were the ones that were enacted. Bellamy gave his will to Cadogan and made CADOGAN’S choices, not his own. Never before in all the seasons did Bellamy “need it all to make sense.” He fucking KNEW it made no sense and he didn’t want to make those choices any more. And he did it to be a better person and make better choices and keep his family safe. The excuse they used for our hero to side with Cadogan did not fit. CADOGAN became the protagonist in the second half of the season. CADOGAN made all the choices that furthered the story. Our heroes were reduced to either brainwashed followers or ineffective, hysterical messes, our really not wanting anything to do with anyone’s salvation and just interested in their love life. It left Raven, Echo and Octavia to scramble around in the end and try to convince the purple sparkly gods not to erase them out of existence, just erase them and swallow them. :/ Cadogan as protagonist bringing humanity to “transcendence.”, Our supposed heroes as useless flotsam and jetsam floating around on the wreck of humanity whose choices and actions make no goddamn difference.

NOT COOL.

3. Character Storylines

Clarke’s storyline. NOT COOL. Bellamy’s storyline. NOT COOL. Octavia’s storyline. S.A COOL. S.B NOT COOL. Raven’s storyline. COOL. Echo’s storyline. S.A COOL. S.B NOT COOL. Murphy’s storyline. SUPER COOL. Emori’s storyline. SUPER COOL. Indra’s storyline. COOL. Hope’s storyline. S.A COOL S.B NOT COOL. Jordan’s storyline. NOT COOL. Diyoza’s storyline. COOL Gabriel’s storyline. COOL. Madi’s storyline. NOT COOL The grounders. Fucking morons. You really shouldn’t make a whole culture’s choices based around being absolutely too stupid to be allowed to live. EVEN when you get past xenophobia and learn about who they are and why they do things. NOT COOL. The culty people. Cool set up and world building. The society was dumb and had too many plot holes. MIDDLING SHEIDHEDA. NOT COOL. pointless plot device just used to make everyone forget everything they learned from 6 seasons. CADOGAN. COOL AS A VILLAIN. But he was the protagonist. So the ruination of the entire show and universe they created. NOT COOL.

SEASON A COOL OVERALL. SEASON B NOT COOL. TOTAL SEASON NOT COOL

I think if people think the ending was supercool, they’ve never heard of a deus ex machina, and how that’s a BAD ending that is really just a cheat because you can’t figure out a way to get out of the story mess you made.

I really hate post apocalyptic fiction that ends with no hope for humanity. JR kept telling us there was hope. I mean narratively, not in interviews, although he did that too, and in the last half season, he switched it around so they wouldn’t have hope, not even just our heroes, but all humanity. It was a bait and switch I did not appreciate. And I’m not talking about ships, I’m talking about the essential genre of the show.

PS. thanks. I love my book and I hope someone picks it up so you all can read it. It also has elements of Han/Leia and another couple, Brashen/Althea from the Live Ship Traders book by Robin Hobb. They are, however, less traumatized than the characters in The 100.

#RANT lol

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luna-lovvegood · 3 years

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are you a terf/support terfs and may i ask why? /gen

Hey! I'm a rad-leaning feminist but I hesitate to completely call myself a radfem, mostly because there are always ideas within every ideology that I disagree with/agree and to subscribe fully to an idea, in my experience, tends to put people in a bit of a box where they feel they have to agree with everything in an ideology, or they are a "bad" activist.

I am anti-porn and anti-sex work, which does not mean anti-sex worker! I support the Nordic model:

"Under the Nordic model, the purchase of sex work is criminalized and sale of sex work is partially decriminalised. (Typically, sex workers can sell their own services, but auxiliary services, such as pimping, brothel-keeping, and third party advertising remain illegal.) The main objective of the model is to decrease the demand for sex work by punishing the soliciting of sexual services in order to decrease the volume of the illegal sex industry overall." (x)

If women are a product, if sex can be bought... then what is rape? It's not rape; it's theft. So many men already view women as bodies to be

The majority of American men watch porn, but much, much less women. (x) Porn panders to the male gaze and it heavily affects the way society views sex;

"Pornography can shift sexual interests, behaviours and relationships. It shapes “sexual scripts”, providing models of behaviour and guiding sexual expectations, with studies finding links between watching pornography and heterosexual anal intercourse, unsafe sex and more. Watching pornography can lower men’s relationship satisfaction. And for women, male partners’ pornography use can reduce intimacy, feed self-objectification and body shame, or involve coercion into sexual acts." (x)

I'm gender critical, as in I think critically about gender and I dont blindly accept stuff people say about it. gender is a complex subject and we should all remember that 'critical' means "involving the objective analysis and evaluation of an issue in order to form a judgement' not necessarily negative.

Feminism is about females, transwomen are males and should never ever be centered in feminism. Feminism is about lifting female voices and female liberation. Transwomen are about as qualified to be feminist activists as cis men. That doesn’t mean they can’t be feminists, but feminism isn’t their movement. It’s not for them.

I also believe transwomen, regardless of their validity as women, should be excluded from female spaces (i.e bathrooms/shelters/crisis centers/sports/prisons) and also should not be centered in feminism because they lack the fundamental experience of growing up as a girl. if you aren't familiar with the concept of male/female socialization I would learn about it! there is nothing inherently predatory or evil about men; its taught to male people, regardless of gender identity that women are their sex objects and we essentially should drop everything for them and include them in everything. transwomen are also just as likely to commit crimes as cis men, although we should note that this is only present in on of the groups;

"Second, regarding any crime, male-to-females had a significantly increased risk for crime compared to female controls (aHR 6.6; 95% CI 4.1–10.8) but not compared to males (aHR 0.8; 95% CI 0.5–1.2). This indicates that they retained a male pattern regarding criminality. The same was true regarding violent crime." (x)

However, I am aware that transwomen are also at higher risk of violence, but the solution is not endanger women. I fully support trans shelters/gender neutral bathrooms and I also believe that we should do more to protect transwomen (as well as men) from rape in male prisons, putting them in female prisons only equals biological women being raped.

as @queen-mayhem said: "Trans women do not get to sacrifice us to keep themselves safe." (x)

Half of all known trans prisoners are sex offenders or require max security. (x)

fair play for women is an extremely good site that I would recommend checking out!

Children should never be put on puberty blockers or hormones. They should not have their name legally changed at three years old. If your son wants to wear dresses and you assume he’s trans, you are a disgusting person. Kids can be gender non conforming. You are a bigot if you assume a woman/girl who’s masculine or a man/boy who’s feminine is trans. we should treat gender dysphoria as what it is: a mental illness. individuals with gender dysphoria need serious help. therapy is trans healthcare, not chopping off their bits and tits.

Some things in radical feminism I disagree with, like the idea that capitalism is inherently anti-feminist, because women were never treated well under any political system. I'm not arguing for or against capitalism, I just don't think it's a feminist issue. Communism makes women public resources, capitalism makes us private property. We need female liberation under all political systems. Also, as a Christian I don't believe all religion is inherently sexist and @yeshuaspriestess is a good feminist christian blogger to check out!

I recommend J.K Rowling's essay (x) and I really like some bloggers on here like @radfemblack and @opabiniawillreturn and a lot of others. Also, I recommend checking out radical feminist scholars, which I myself am doing now so I don't have any recommendations quite yet because, again, I'm new to radical feminism. Interact with radfems, terfs and trans activists/trans people and form your own informed opinion!

I'm always open to civil discussion with anyone, and please DM me if you want to talk more! Hope this helps!

#also I might edit this post as my view change!#sorry for using ur question as an about me lol #about me

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writingwithacupoftea · 4 years

Text

A family reunited - part 2!

Summary: The time has come for Y/N Shelby to explain her five-year disappearance to her family. Tommy, her beloved elder brother, proves to be less than understanding...

Word Count: 3220

A/N: 300 followers?? I still can’t believe it. I know this part 2 has been a long time coming, so I hope it serves as enough of a thank you 😘 I’ve never written a sequel to a fic before, so I don’t know how this will go down, but I hope you like it!! 💜💜

Part 1

Y/N Shelby had loved seeing her family again, she really did: it had been what she'd dreamed of for so long, just for them to know that she was alive had brought her happiness.

What she didn't love was Tommy's booming wake-up call of "FAMILY MEETING AT THE SHOP IN AN HOUR - DON'T BE LATE," at half past 8 in the morning.

Ah, but she sort of did at the same time.

Thinking back to the night before, Y/N found a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading throughout her body and a smile spread across her face as she snuggled back into her pillow. Her eyes began to close again, tempting a few more minutes sleep – surely she would still make the meeting in time?

At the thought of the meeting, however, Y/N suddenly found herself wide awake as she realised what the meeting would be for: she was going to have to explain herself. Y/N was going to have to tell everyone why she disappeared for so many years and what happened in that time. Her stomach began to churn and her mind started to race, trying to hurriedly plan out what she would say, but unsure where to even begin.

Y/N was proud of her work as a spy during the war, but that didn't mean that she was looking forward to reliving some of the details of her story.

Knowing that there was no point in delaying the inevitable for longer than necessary, she dragged herself out of bed and sent up a little prayer for the strength that she so desperately needed.

***

As Y/N walked into the meeting an hour later, she noticed the change in Tommy immediately. Gone was the loving brother that had spent the entire evening practically glued to her hip, and in his place was the cold leader of the Peaky Blinders that Polly had told her about upon her return to Birmingham.

Whilst in hiding, Y/N had seen the impact that the war had had on the men who fought in France, but that didn't stop her heart from breaking slightly as she properly looked at Tommy in the light of day. He had always been quiet and controlled, but never to this extent.

She sat down at the table, and soon enough the whole family were gathered. Y/N couldn't bear to look at them, even though she hadn't said a thing yet. She feared their judgement, and was petrified that they would kick her out when she'd only just got back.

But Y/N knew that in order for this to go the way that she wanted it to, she couldn't afford to let thoughts like that show. Instead, she needed to make it clear to her brothers that she still stood by her decision to leave. She had been made stronger by her mistakes and experiences during her time away, and refused to let them believe otherwise.

So, as Tommy cleared his throat to begin speaking, Y/N took a deep breath and looked up.

"Right, well, we're all here - "

"That we are!" Arthur's hand came down and rested on her shoulder roughly, causing Y/N to smile in amusement.

"Yes, thank you, Arthur." Tommy's gruff voice cut through the joy. "So, Y/N, would you care to tell us where the fuck you've been for five years?"

Out of instinct, the woman in question met her older brother's blue eyes, hoping to find the comfort and support that they had always shown to her in the days before the war. But there was nothing; not even the slightest bit of love, or encouragement, or anger or anything.

In that moment, Y/N realised that no one could help her – only she could tell the story.

And so, she began...

***

A couple of hours later, it was finally over.

Y/N had told them all about how she had been recruited as a British spy, recounted most of her tales (but not all – some of them were still highly confidential and as much as she loved Arthur and John, Y/N wouldn't trust them with a barge pole when it came to keeping secrets), and eventually about her time in hiding and return to Birmingham.

Miraculously, she hadn't shed a single tear. Not even when she'd recounted the worst trappings and beatings. Before coming down to the meeting, Y/N had debated whether or not to tell her family about those times, but in the end she knew that the full truth would come out in time and that it would be better to get all of the pain out of the way at once. Whether that pain was for Y/N or everyone else, she wasn't sure.

But Y/N also hadn't been able to suppress her laughs and smiles at the happier memories: the friends that she'd made, the clubs that she'd danced at undercover, the boys that she'd seduced whether as part of her mission or just for a bit of fun (Tommy may appear to be an expert at controlling his emotions now, but you bet that Y/N didn't miss his jaw clench in protective anger several times).

Now, silence filled the room. A silence that seemed to last for eternity for Y/N. Unable to cope with it for any longer, she spoke again, this time unable to control the waiver of emotion in her voice: "Please say something, anything. You lot have always got something to say," Y/N finished with a slight laugh. Unknowingly, she had directed her words at Tommy, who was staring at her, his eyes as cold as ice. Y/N hated the fact that she sounded like a little girl again, seeking his approval; Tommy's opinion had always been important to her, no matter how many times she had vehemently denied the fact when she was younger.

Surprisingly to her, it was John who spoke first, looking at her directly as he did so. "We're proud of you, Y/N/N."

"Yeah," Arthur continued, gruffly. "Just a fucking lot to take in, is all."

Silence infiltrated the room once more, only cushioned by Polly reaching over to grasp her niece's hand tightly.

Realising that Tommy wasn't going to speak any time soon, Y/N stood up as if to leave, her chair screeching horribly across the floor. "Well if that's it, I'll go and -"

"Why?" Her second eldest brother cut her off. Even though her back was now turned, Y/N felt his gaze burning into her.

"Why?" She repeated, confused, as she turned around.

"You heard me. Why did you go?"

"Christmas had long gone, Tommy. I needed to do something other than sit around in Small fucking Heath waiting for you lot to come back. I tried to help with the business, you know I have ideas. But I got nowhere because I'm a woman, alright? So, when an opportunity arose to go and do something useful, of course I was going to jump at it."

Tommy scoffed. "Do you realise how fucking selfish you sound?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"Even after you knew that the war wouldn't be ending any time soon, you still went gallivanting off, throwing yourself headfirst into danger. Did you not stop to think that this family could have lost another member? You clearly didn't, because apparently all that matters to you is getting a rush of adrenaline and trying to be the hero."

Crack. The sound of Y/N's open palm meeting Tommy's cheek echoed through the room.

"How dare you, Thomas Shelby." Y/N's voice was deadly quiet, her rage and feelings of betrayal bubbling ferociously inside of her. "How fucking dare you. After everything that I've just told you, you have the nerve to stand there and call me selfish? I knew that when I signed up there was a chance that I might not come back, but I did it anyway, you're right. I did it in the hopes that my work may help to end the bloody war sooner, so that it was more likely that you boys would come home alive. Because if none of you came back, have you thought, Thomas, how wrecked this family would be? Not just emotionally, but financially as well. There would be three women, Finn, and John's kids left and that would be it. We would hardly be able to bring enough money in to keep everyone safe and together forever, at least not until the children had grown up. As much as you might not like it, Tommy, that I knowingly put myself in a situation where I could've been killed, I did it to try and protect this family."

If Y/N had looked around at her family at that moment, she would have witnessed the shock and pain etched onto the face of each person around the table. None of them had realised that she had put so much thought into her decision to leave. Instead her eyes were locked with those of her brother, unwilling to back down.

Breaking the silence, Y/N added bitterly, "Still think I'm selfish, Thomas?"

She didn't know what she'd expected.

Y/N knew that Tommy wouldn't take it all well, and whilst his instinct to protect her and make sure that she was safe typically overrode everything else, she had hoped that he would have at least understood her reasons behind her actions. He had always said that family came before anything else. So, when Tommy barged past her, storming out of the shop and slamming the door behind him, Y/N couldn't help the sob that escaped her.

***

Dusk had settled over the city. Y/N was sat by the Cut, mulling over the events of the last 48 hours.

After Tommy had left, she had broken down completely, letting out all of the emotion that she had kept pent-up for so long. Her siblings, aunt and cousin had told her that Tommy would come around, and that they would do anything that they could for her.

But, as much as she adored her entire family, she needed Tommy; she needed the brother who had stood by her through thick and thin, who had always trusted her judgement and always loved her no matter what. She hadn't realised how much she had needed him until he had turned his back on her completely.

When most of her tears had dried, Y/N left the shop herself, murmuring a quick "I'll be back later" before she did. The family had let her go, knowing that she needed the time and space to process everything and calm down.

A few hours later, she did feel calmer as she took in the familiar surroundings (a hidden spot next to the Cut that her and Tommy had found when they were younger and hiding from their father). That was until she heard footsteps quickly approaching her from behind...

***

Tommy's mind was racing at a mile a minute.

Once again, he'd gone and ruined things with his family. He'd probably destroyed his relationship with Y/N for good, something that he couldn't bear the thought of losing. His little sister meant the world to him; it just hurt him to know that she had been through so much by herself, and that he hadn't been able to stop it. At least in the trenches he'd had his brothers by his side. Y/N had no one.

But he could help her now. He had realised that after hiding himself away in the Garrison with his thoughts. He'd realised that his place was now back by his sister's side once more.

Tommy had made his way back to the shop to try and make amends, and marched straight over to Polly. "Where is she?" His voice may not have shown it to his aunt, but she could see the emotion in his eyes. Polly was glad that her nephew seemed to have got some of his sense back, but she sure as hell wasn't going to make things easy for him. Tommy's behaviour had been despicable, after all.

"She left." Polly said, simply, returning to her work.

"Left?"

"You heard me, Thomas." God, how many times was he going to be full-named today?

"Left where?"

"She didn't say."

Tommy felt a niggle of anxiety stirring in him. "Well, did she say when she'd be back?"

"No." Polly's lips were pursed in irritation.

"You let her wander off alone, I take it, without asking where she was going or what she was doing, eh? Do you know how fucking stupid that is? We've only just got her back, and you're risking losing her again?"

"Perhaps you should listen to your own words. At least I wasn't the one who caused her to have a panic attack." It was harsh, but partly true: the combination of the memories and Tommy's reaction had caused Y/N to spiral.

Tommy froze, worry and guilt consuming him. How could he have let this happen? He had spent half of the night in Y/N's bedroom last night, making sure that she was real and safe, and now she was gone again.

Walking back out of the shop, Tommy found himself hiding in an alleyway, trying to collect his thoughts as his hands shook. Where could Y/N be? Where would she go when she was scared and upset?

Suddenly, he knew.

***

The hurried footsteps drew nearer, and instinct took over Y/N's entire being. She spun around, gun cocked and pointed straight at the source of the noise, her breathing speeding up again as the last ebbs of her panic attack began escalating quickly again.

Any relief that Tommy had felt at finding his sister faded at seeing her distressed state. He raised his hands slowly and spoke softly to her: "It's okay, Y/N/N. It’s just me, it's Tommy. You're home, you're safe." As he continued to offer his reassurances that she wasn't under threat and edged closer to her, he noticed recognition begin to sweep over Y/N.

Her gun clattered to the ground as she broke down into tears again, relaxing into her brother's embrace as he sat down next to her and pulled the young woman into his arms. In that moment, Tommy realised how broken his sister was, how much the war had affected her, just like him.

Eventually, Y/N's breathing became normal again, the sound of Tommy's heartbeat and the gentle hand stroking her hair grounding her.

After a few moments, Tommy mustered up the courage to say the words that had been on repeat in his head for so long. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." Y/N looked up at him with those big eyes that had him wrapped around her little finger. "I was...overwhelmed and I lashed out, even though you didn't deserve it. Hell, you probably even saved our lives at some point and all I do is call you selfish. I went too far, and I'm sorry."

Y/N smirked slightly at Tommy's obvious discomfort at his confession, but it melted into a gentle smile when she looked up and was met with his loving yet troubled gaze.

"Thank you, Tommy." His entire demeanour relaxed at these words. "Do you understand though? Do you understand why I did it all in the first place? Do you understand why your reaction broke me? All I needed was for my brother to be there, and you just walked out on me. You promised me that you never would. You promised."

Tommy took her hand tightly in his larger one and nodded slightly, a lump forming in his throat. His other hand settled in his coat pocket as he asked: "Are you really back to stay?" The vulnerability that had been uncovered again last night had now returned.

"Yeah, I am." Y/N squeezed his hand. "Doesn't mean you're completely forgiven yet though; speak to me like that again and I'll cut you a smile on that grumpy face."

Tommy breathed out a slight laugh, despite the threat (which he knew was an honest one). "Oh, I missed you, darling." He wrapped his arm around Y/N and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Missed you too, Tom."

***

The siblings sat there, peacefully, for a little while longer. Whilst part of Y/N was still angry at her brother, she couldn’t deny that she felt at home back by his side, in their special childhood hiding place. So, for now, she decided to put her anger behind her.

Soon enough, the chill of the night air began to settle around them. Tommy offered Y/N a hand up and wrapped his long black coat tightly around her, before the pair slowly started walking back towards the streets of Birmingham.

“I promise I’ll try and be better, for you.” Tommy’s voice cut through the silence. I can’t bear the thought of you leaving again because I pushed you out, he added in his head.

Y/N smiled sadly. “Don't make promises you might not be able to keep, Tom. We’re different people compared to who we used to be. All we can do is try, eh?”

Tommy stopped off at the office to call Polly and let her know that Y/N was staying with him for the night. Y/N found herself looking around the big building, in awe of what her family had managed to achieve.

She plunged her hands in the big pockets of Tommy's coat as a shiver wracked her body, frowning when her fingers touched something familiar. Checking that her brother was still on the phone, she pulled the object out and her eyes widened in surprise as she stared at it. It was a small stuffed toy, shaped to resemble a horse (sort of, it was definitely handmade).

Y/N had loved it when she was younger, and barely used to be seen without it. When she grew into a teenager, she had hidden the toy in her old childhood treasure box and retrieved it when she felt low, even as she had entered adulthood. She had been devastated when she couldn't find it to comfort her the day that her brothers had left for France.

The horse was more frayed and tattered than she remembered, and dirtier too. Y/N had always been meticulous for looking after her possessions, not having much of her own.

Then the explanation for its state and whereabouts dawned on Y/N: Tommy had taken it to France and kept it with him ever since, a constant reminder of her.

Placing the toy carefully back where she found it, Y/N looked through the glass to Tommy’s office with tears in her eyes as he hung up the phone. A small smile flickered across his face as he caught sight of his sister and made his way straight to her, not a single piece of work in his hands.

"Come on," Tommy said, softly. "Let's go home."

As her brother subtly offered her his arm, Y/N felt optimistic about the future for the first time in years. As Tommy rested his hand on top of hers, which now sat in the crook of his arm, one thought crossed Y/N's mind:

Maybe Tommy would try. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

But the Shelby family knew that there was hope, because Tommy's guiding light always came in the form of Y/N Shelby...and she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby!reader #shelby sis #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders sister #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinder fanfic

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nestable · 3 years

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Feminism in ACOTAR

(This is a bit long so bare with me)

As a politics student and general member of the public who's curious about feminist themes, I've read a lot of feminist writings which have informed my opinion in saying that none of the acotar books can be described as feminist.

I've noticed that the big motivator behind describing the books as feminist is feyres appointment of High lady. Though that may be pivotal in prythian history, we cant ignore the fact that it is still a fairly patriachal society. Having a few women in places of power like mor, amren, feyre etc. Is not enough because women don't grow up on an island and are also influenced by patriachal views or mindsets. In short, just because someone is a woman and is in a position of power, doesnt mean that they will cater to the needs of women or are feminist. Women, especially white women(this is important because sjms writes white feminism) have often gotten into positions of power and actually ignored women and done the same that their male predecessors have done and often threw other women under the bus in order to retain their tokenism status. And the main flaw of white feminism which is the reason why it coined the term 'white feminism' is that it doesnt encompass all the intersectionalities that women reside in and only focus on a western model of what it means to be a woman and anything outside of that is backward and 'barbaric. We see this in the judgement and disregarding of POC's experiences and outlooks on life because they are different to theirs. There are more than enough examples of the white women in the series judging the illyrians which are seen by the fandom as POC's and how they maliciously drag their customs through the mud. Instead of getting these views from illyrian women themselves, we get them from white women who arent connected to that culture whatsoever and who have nothing to say except judgement and critique instead of actually helping.

We see this with the white characters views of illyrian cultures and their conclusion of the condition of women without even having a single conversation with illyrian women. Illyrian women in this set up have no agency and no voice and that leaves the women of the IC to speak for them which is counterproductive. This is wrong in that many western cultures have misinterpreted different cultures and ignored the women in those societies as being disenfranchised and have used this as an excuse to invade and colonize under the guise of liberating women when in actual fact they dont care about the women at all, and are only concerned in reaping the benefits of that culture and keeping them under their control. An example of this is rhys ignoring the treatment of illyrian women but reaping the benefit of having illyrians fight in his wars.

Feyre as high lady

It's unfair to judge feyres actions as high lady as yet because we've barely seen her act, but from the little that we know, she follows Rhys' every action and decision without question. And rhys hasn't done anything for the improvement of women's position socially or economically at all (we all know the state of the illyrian camps) in all the 500 yrs he's been high lord. Apart from Rhys, the inner circle has 2 women in the highest leadership positions and even they havent done anything and have even ignored the plight of women under their jurisdiction, (mor with Hewn city) I dont even think amren cares about anything besides her jewels tbh. So it's fair to assume that feyre will follow in those very footsteps. She already has biased and low views on the illyrians and people who reside in hewn city to the point where she participates in the 'pimp and whore' act that she puts on t deal with them. And we've never seen her speak to illyrian women so to her their voices and autonomy dont matter.

Male feminism in the IC

The only male who can be seen as being feminist in the series is Cassian because aside from simply declaring that wing clipping is illegal, he actually does the ground work to ensure it doesn't happen by offering the women to train with him. Though this is a weak cure for the issues the women face in Illyria, it's a start and far more work than anything the other characters have done in the name of women empowerment.

Another so called feminist figure in the series is rhysand. Why he's described as such defeats me, but I'll go through some points to prove that hes nothing of the sort.

1. He created a library for sexual assault survivors.

Though this is a nice effort, it can't be described as feminism because he doesnt extend the same courtesy to the other women in his territory and is only concerned with women in Velaris. Supporting women who worship you isnt feminism isnt feminism either and we know that the entirety of Velaris see the IC as blameless gods. Based on mors history, its obvious that the women in hewn city are suffering just as much if not more but hes forsaken them to live under mors parents/abusers rule. And creating a safe house for sexual assault survivors isnt as much feminism as it is human decency. Especially considering how much money hes got.

2. Banning illyrian wing clipping

Wing clipping is still a pandemic in the illyrian camps meaning that he didnt put enough provisions to ensure that it stops. Passing a law and ensuring that it is followed are two different things and rhys clearly dowsnt know the distinction. An additional point regarding illyrian women is that it was mentioned in acofas that they were joining the men in rebelling, and if that doesnt say anything about their feelings with him being high lord and how he doesnt cater to them, then I dont know what does. This also speaks to the point of the assumption that women of color dont have agency in their own societies. He said something like the men 'manipulated' the women into joining their rebellion, which insinuates that they can't think for themselves and are completely voiceless and this is a factor of whit feminism, the belief that WOC colour cant speak for themselves and are meek and susetable to being controlled or manipulated. It is a huge possibility that the women can't really express their opinions because they are suppressed by their men, however we dont see rhys interacting with any women and getting their opinion on things. He assumes that they are forced into everything and though we havent gotten the book yet I'm gonna say this is false. The reason being if rhys was such a good high lord and cared for women's issues, why would the women side with their 'abusive' men instead of their so called benevolent high lord?

3. Rhys appointed women in his IC

First of all, appointing women based on merit and qualifications is feminism, not appointing family members and you underaged bride just because 'you love her'. Though mor and amren may be qualified, and that's a massive 'maybe', they haven't done anything to improve the lives of women. Like their high lord they are complacent and Hewn city and illyria are more than enough to prove this. What rhys has essentially done is nepotism and corruption and no one can convince me otherwise.

Going further on the inner circle women, rhys was willing to sacrifice these very women to achieve his goal and this is self serving and anti feminist. The first being abusing feyre UTM and then using her as bait for the attor, then later making a deal with eris even though he knows his history with mor. If anyone believes that these actions are remotely feminist or excusable, then feminism is not for you and need help because its abusive and patriachal.

In conclusion rhys isnt feminist, mor isnt feminist, amren isnt feminist, feyre isnt feminist, azriel isnt even in the conversation and cassian is the only one scratching the surface. Also, white feminism is an exclusive and limited way to portray and execute feminism, women getting leadership positions based on their proximity to men just advances the false notion that women can only succeed if they 'sleep' their way to the top and just because a woman is in a leadership space, thag doesnt make that state of affairs inherently feminist because women are also carriers of patriarchy.

I tried to sum up my points but for more on white feminism, feminist intersectionalites and how being female doesnt make a person feminist, I advice you read Bell Hooks' writings because she touches on these topics in far better ways than I can.

#acotar #acowar #acomaf #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #anti feyre #my take on feminism #stop caling female representation feminism #anti sjm #sjm critical

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argumentl · 3 years

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The Freedom of Expression Ep 43 - Man who was living in attic above the supermarket ceiling arrested.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome. Ok, lets get straight on with it. Tasai san...

T: Yep.

K: Could you..?

T: Well, we have some unexpected news from America this time. Some attic news.

Y, K: Attic news?

T: A man who who living above the ceiling of a supermarket without permission has been arrested. A man named Matthew Hammer had been found to be living above the ceiling of a branch of the chain store 'Raley's' for one week. He was stealing food from the supermarket and eating it. So as to the background to his arrest, a night-shift staff member saw a leg poking out through the ceiling, and obviously thought, oh my god, there's someone there. They reported it straight away and the police arrived with the police dog. They sent the dog up to chase the man out, but the dog also lost its footing and it got stuck.

J: It sounds like a joke!

T: Yeh, its like a manga or something. So, in order to rescue the dog, a rescue team from the fire station was dipatched. After rescuing the dog, they arrested the man. What do you think of this sudden news?

J: Well, its really American...its hard not to laugh.

T: Its a crazy idea, right?

J: It is, you would never think someone would live up there.

K: But if you think about it...he could've continued living up there forever.

J: Yeh, yeh he could, he'd have ample food. Um, its kinda like that Korean movie that was released a while ago, Parasite. Living in a rich person's house without permission, and getting up to things while the owner was out. In reality this guy is sneaking into the supermarket, living there and helping himself to food.

T: Yeah, and apparently he'd also made a kinda simple-style living room above the ceiling.

J: Did he?

T: He'd put whatever he liked up there..a sofa, a tv...

K: Oh, the supermarkets over there sell all sorts of stuff, don't they?

J: Yeh, they do.

T: Yeah.

J: In America, well..in Nevada, its pretty big right? Thier supermarkets are also big. They are a lot bigger than Japanese supermarkets. So, from that perspective, I bet the attic space is pretty big. He would have had a lot of space to live in. But still, it seems like people might try to copy this idea. Im kinda interested in this leg sticking through the ceiling part.

K: Yeah, like why was his leg sticking through the ceiling?

J: Maybe he didn't realise it was poking through.

T: Its pretty shocking though right? If you suddenly see a leg poking through the ceiling.

J: Yeh, you'd think, 'What is that?!'. Well, at least you could say its good that no-one died.

K: It was dangerous for the police dog too, wasn't it?

J: Yes, it was.

T: It really was.

J: It was dangerous for the dog too.

T: Hm, the police dog. But why ???*1.

J: I wonder what this guy was eating though?

K: It says he was eating ready made deli food.

J: Oh, deli food?

T: What kind of thing is American deli food?

K: They do have it.

T: What is it like? Do they have stuff like deep fried pickled mackerel?

K: Ah, no, they don't have that kind of thing. They have like fried chicken, or salad, or meatballs etc.

J: He must not have had any kitchenware up there, right?

K: Well, he probably didnt need it. But they will have had it in there.

J:Hm, yeah. He probably didn't need to cook. He will have had all-you-can-eat potato chips.

T: Yeah.

J: Well, they recently had the presidential election in America..so from that perspective, well, the gap between rich and poor in America is a big problem. So for people who can't eat, they have to figure out a way to keep themselves going.

T: Yeah, but why did he start living there? He could have gone in and got what he wanted, then left.

J: It was probably the easy option. Rather than sneaking in and out. He figured he could live pretty well there. It seems like the security weren't checking as far as the ceiling each time.

T: It looks like he didn't ever want to go outside.

K: He might have gone outside sometimes though.

T: Oh, ok.

J: A bit like a guest .

K: But he didn't steal any money from the cash registers, did he?

J: Right.

T: Yeah.

J: When you think about that, it seems quite a reasonable thing.. haha

T: Yeh, like living together with the supermarket, haha

J: Im not sure whats worse in regards to shoplifting...he wasn't stuffing his pockets and making a run for it, he was just taking what he needs to eat upstairs.

T: He was probably watching who was shopping downstairs.

K: Ah, yeh.

J: Additionally, he was coming down at night to get deli stuff, so it will have been the unsold stuff. If you think about it like that its quite eco-friendly.

T: He's a good guy.

J: Haha, a good guy.

T: Matthew Hammer, age 35. He's a good guy.

J: He is. Rather than stealing the cash register money, he eats the leftover food.

T: I think Kami might have something to say about this story.

J: Yeh, so do I. Hello, are you there?

Kami: Yes, Kami speaking.

K: Haha, 'Yes, Kami speaking'? What is he saying? haha

Kami: Aren't the ceilings in American supermarkets pretty high up?

K: They seem high, don't they?

J: I think so, yeh.

Kami: So in that case, its a good job both the police dog and the criminal didn't fall.

J: Certainly, if he'd have reacted badly there could have been a big accident.

T: Yeh.

Kami: Thats right. Its good that the dog was helped with its task, but it didn't complete its mission at all, so it will end up having to be retrained.

J, K: Ahh.

T: But you'd never imagine a police dog having to walk above the ceiling. haha.

K: Yeah. It wouldn't know where was safe to walk.

Kami: I feel sorry for the police dog.

J: But you think the dog didn't complete its mission, so..

Kami: It will be made to retrain. Don't you feel sorry for it?

J: Well, yes, of course.

T: Hehehe

J: This is the kind face of Kami showing.

T: He is kind sometimes.

Kami: Because I'm a compassionate god.

J: Haha, you're calling yourself a compassionate god?

T: He is kind sometimes.

J: Kami, what do you think about the offender, Matthew Hammer? Whats your judgement of him?

Kami: Its difficult, but, hmm..what can I say? haha.

J: Haha, he laughed. 'What can I say?'

Kami: Well, he's innocent, right?

J: Innocent?

Kami: Innocent.

T: Incidentally, Matthew Hammer has been charged with robbery, and obstruction of police. If he's found guilty he will get at least one year in jail, and at most ten years.

Kami: What did he do to obstruct police?

T: Probably by refusing to get down from the attic or something.

J: Ah, he might have been violent, yeh.

Kami: Well, he's guilty then.

J, T: Hahaha

T: Kami's decision power is pretty weak.

J: His opinions are too casual! 'Well, he's guilty then!' haha. What do you mean by that, Kami?

Kami: Well, a crime is a crime.

J: So Kami also thinks he's guilty.

Kami: He is guilty.

T: Yes, unfortunately, he's guilty.

T: By the way, what type of deli stuff do you guys like? Joe, Kaoru?

K: Deli? *To Joe* Do you eat supermarket deli stuff?

J: I absolutely do.

K: Me too.

J: What do you like?

K: I like..those Korean veggie mixes.

J: Ahh

T: Yeh, like Korean carrots and bean sprouts, or green veggies.

J: As for me, Im trying to be careful with food, but usually the leftover, discounted stuff is fried food, isn't it? My local supermarket puts the half price stickers on at 9:30. So, i get there for 9:30, but so does everyone else. Im on the offense and defense. As soon as a sticker goes onto any non-fried item, everyone is straight in there! There is so much energy.

K: Haha

J: Everyone is there slightly in advance, and just waiting.

T: You too, Joe?

J: Yes, me too.

T: Thats the type of thing that appeals to young women.

J: Ojikyun?

T: Yeh.

J: This?

T: Probably, haha.

J: Thats it! haha.

T: Everyone, try to imagine Joe waiting like that in the supermarket.

J: Its pathetic! At 52 years old, waiting for the half price off stickers in the supermarket! But, still, you have to wait, right? Kaoru, don't you try to get those? The half price off items?

K: I've never tried to.

J: But if you saw it was half price off you would buy it though, wouldn't you?

K: Yeh, if it was the same thing as what I wanted.

J: Right? Absolutely.

K: What about you, Tasai?

T: I like that pickled mackerel. Stuff like that.

Sorry for mentioning that again.

J: Thats all you've said today.

K: He's hinting that to us.

T: I love the stuff.

J: Do you?

K: Ok, shall we finish? Please subscribe, thank you very much.

*1 Couldn't catch.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

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huntertales · 3 years

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Part Two: Vices And Virtues. (Rock And A Hard Place S09E08)

Episode Summary: Sheriff Jody Mills enlists the help of Y/N and the Winchesters to help investigate multiple kidnappings that belonged to the same chastity group. The three decide to infiltrate the group for themselves. But things go wrong when Y/N and Dean disappear. Sam and Jody must rescue them before it’s too late. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warning: Descriptions of intimacy Word Count: 5,728.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

A/N: I tried something with this part...don’t know if it’s gonna come out good or totally suck. Obviously you guys know what you’re getting yourself into with the context of this episode. I really didn’t know how to add proper warning that would make sense, so bare with me. Obviously read at your own discretion. I hope you guys enjoy!

You'd do just about anything for a hunt if it meant an innocent life could be saved from disaster, or worse, death. YAnd you did your fair share of stupid things over the years. Sitting here in an abstinence support group after regaining your virginity was on the top of the list. You sat on one of the fold-out wooden chairs and patiently waited for your first and only meeting of "Abstinence Purifies Us" to begin. It seemed the group was going to be much larger than you realized it was going to be when you saw a crowd of women come into the room designated for things such as this. What you noticed right away when everyone formed a circle to start the meeting was that there was not a single man in sight besides the brothers.

While you continued waiting, you went on thinking about how regaining your virginity at your age would be slightly strange as well, presuming almost all of the group in the group were going to be those who were high school aged to some in their twenties. You were a bit surprised to see a few who appeared to be possibly other than you. Perhaps they were like you, born-again virgins like you who wanted a fresh start in life. You folded your hands in your lap and patiently waited for everyone to join and get started.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Suzy.” The woman sitting at the head of the circle spoke up and introduced herself after spotting a few new faces in the group. “I’d thought we’d begin with a silent prayer for our missing friends.”

You and Sam closed your eyes and lowered your head out of respect for everyone else when they did the same. Dean didn't see much of the point, seeming to be lost in his own personal thoughts when he stared at Suzy to follow her directions. You opened your eyes to check up on Dean, only to see he was being stubborn as usual. You cleared your throat and shot him a warning glare to play along. He quickly did as everyone else, knowing it was better to go along with the part without causing too much suspension. You rolled your eyes before shutting them again for a few more seconds before Suzy concluded the prayer.

“Now,” Suzy finally moved on to the actual beginning of the meeting after getting the formalities out of the way. “Does anyone have anything they’d like to share?”

"I wrote a new piece of verse." A young woman eagerly raised her hand, deciding to go before anyone else could try. She picked up a pink piece of paper and stood up from her seat. "It's called 'Sex is a racket, and God's ball is in your tennis court."

You were expecting to hear all sorts of different things during this meeting, but that one not one of them. You had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep the smile that crossed your face from showing how ridiculous the work sounded. You quickly composed yourself when you caught the disapproving shake of the head from Sam. You wanted to hear what was written, but it seemed Suzy declined the offer, not wanting to hear it today. It seemed she was trying to save the new members from not coming back next time for a bad first experience.

“And we would love to hear that, Tammy—later.” Suzy politely shot down the woman from letting her read to the group. You swore a few people seemed relieved at not being forced to listen to another one of the woman’s works. Tammy's smile slowly fell from her lips at being shot down from her writing she spent working so hard on. She sank down to her seat as Suzy directed her attention to you and the boys. “Why don’t we hear from our new friends? Sam, what brought you here to reclaim your virginity?”

You looked over at the younger Winchester to hear his response. He suddenly appeared to be a deer in headlights when everyone's eyes landed on him, curious to see what his answer was going to be. He wasn't sure what to say, in all honesty, he decided to go with the truth. "Well, I guess because every woman I've ever had relations with, uh...it...hasn't ended well."

“He’s not lying.” You mumbled to yourself, knowing from personal experience. It seemed your comment didn’t go unnoticed from the man himself. You turned your head to see his infamous bitch face flash in your direction. “What? Sorry, Sammy, but it’s the truth.”

“Thank you for sharing, Sam. Stay strong. Stay pure.” Suzy said. The motto was chanted by everyone else in the group before the next person was up to share. And from the way it seemed to be, you were up next. “What about you, Y/N? What set you on the path away from sin?”

"Well, I guess I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately. I feel at this point in my life I need a fresh start. I haven't liked the way it's turned out since I lost my virginity." You began with your reason why you were here, thinking quick on your feet for a reasonable answer. Sometimes honesty was the best policy. So you went from there. "Funny enough, I gave it up pretty late in life. I was actually a virgin up until I was twenty-seven. Sex wasn't important to me. I was focused on other things. And if I'm being honest...I was scared to give it up to anyone else. It's such an intimate thing for someone to do. Sure, some might think sex is fun, and while they—"

You wanted to say that someone had the right to have sex with whoever they wanted, a natural reaction when it came to your way of thinking. You managed to bite your tongue in time before you could say it, remembering the crowd you were speaking to. "Basically, I wasn't in a rush to lose it. But I knew who I secretly wanted to be my first."

You turned your head to look over at Dean, a smile creeping across your lips at the honesty even he didn't know about. "It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. We just said our first 'I love yous' to each other and somehow one thing led to another…and we made love in the backseat of his old Chevy. It was out in the middle of an empty field at night, just the two of us with the radio playing in the background. All of it felt perfect, if I’m being honest.”

You swore you saw a few ladies drift off into personal thought of what it might have been like. A sort of dreamy expression when they saw Dean. He looked like the kind of guy who could charm the pants off anyone. While they were saving themselves for marriage, you saw the wandering eyes, the hidden lust even they couldn't ignore. A little bit of satisfaction came over you knowing he was all yours to keep.

“I realized a lot of bad things feel good in the moment. I had to learn the hard way temptations like mine come with consequences." You went on. "I discovered mine the morning after I gave up my virginity. It turned out Dean was doing something behind my back, something that broke my heart."

"He cheated on you?" Bonnie felt the need to cut in, her pretend sympathetic expression was hidden behind a told-you-so kind of tone.

"Sure. He...cheated on me." You went on with the lie, knowing the truth would sound bonkers to these kinds of people. "Anyway, what trust I thought I had in him disappeared. Lying to me about something like that hurt me. I guess it was God's way of punishing me. But I didn't listen. I ended up doing some other things I regretted."

"This is a safe space, Y/N." Suzy reassured you after falling silent, wanting to act as if you were still guilt ridden to this very day. "Anything you admit today will not be faced with judgement. We're here to help one another. Confession can be a great way to start over."

"During our breakup, we decided to go our separate ways for a while. Dean dated a nice woman while I stayed single. However, while I tried to be good, I lost myself again to the temptation of sin. One day when I was feeling my lowest and drinking way too much. Sam and I..." The ladies all collectively raised their brows, curious and hanging off your every word about what you were going to say. You let out a sigh, pretending as if you had been holding your breath. "We had sex. I mean, it wasn't like what Dean and I had. It was mindless, rough sex. Our souls weren't in it. Sex always seems like a good idea because it feels good. That is, until you come down from the high and realize what did."

"And you never did it again?" Bonnie asked you, her little too wide-eyed stare pointed in your direction from what you admitted.

"Oh, no. We hooked up on and off for a year behind Dean's back. And we denied it every time he asked us." You said, adding fuel to the discomfort slowly growing across Bonnie's face the more she heard. "But it made me realize how much I loved my boyfriend. Whenever I slept with someone else, it didn't feel right. And I'm sure he would say the same thing with every chick he brought back from the bars before we started dating. If anything, his biggest sin would be the slew of sloppy one night stands." You turned your head and gave the older Winchester a bright smile as you reached out to grab his hand and embraced with your own. "Right, honey?"

"Thank you for that...interesting share, Y/N." Suzy said. From the looks of it, she was still trying to wrap her head around the details you painted for her and the group. Everyone chanted their slogan to you before moving on to the next person up to share. "And what about you, Dean?"

"Like my loving girlfriend has told you, I have a history of one-night stands. I wasn't a prude. To me, Sex has always felt—I don't know—good, you know? Relationships weren’t for me. It was always too...complicated. It was better to hit it and quit it.” Dean chuckled at the joke that sounded funny to him, but landed on deaf ears. His smile slowly faded as he got more serious to match the tone of the room. “That was until I met Y/N. If there’s one thing I learned while we’ve been together, it’s the thrill of getting to know the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. And I guess like your virginity, you want to give it to someone special. You want to give all of yourself away to this person. For a long time I thought that wasn't for me. Sex has always been about the pleasure. It was fun. You know?”

Dean was trying his best to work with the crowd to try and get them to understand where he was coming from here. But it seemed he lost them again. Nevertheless, he went on with his confession. "But, uh...sometimes all those hookups make you feel bad, you know? You're drunk. You shack up. Then, it's the whole morning thing. You know, 'Hey, that was fun.' And then, 'adios,' you know? Always the 'adios.'

"I got tired of that. I hated filling the void in my heart with something temporary. I guess life kicked me in the pants at some point and made me realize what I really wanted. I wanted Y/N. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. And, yeah, we kind of did things backwards...had a few bumps in the road. But isn't that what life is all about?” A few women nodded their head in agreement while the others verbally answered. "If anything, being in a long committed relationship made me appreciate how sex can be something meaningful."

You had to admit, Dean had you in the first half of what he was saying. He sounded genuine with his words, as if he was putting his heart into this and playing up the role to make a good impression. Until it veered in the direction you should've feared. "Like I said, sex has always been fun. I'm not denying that. And it's even better with a life-long partner. You get to explore their body in an intimate way no one else will ever be able to do. Know what makes them go crazy . Isn’t that what it comes down to, right?

"There's the touching and the feeling all of each other, knowing exactly where to go that gets them all excited. There’s no fumbling around. You just get straight to the point.” Dean was officially having too much fun at this point when he realized almost everyone was hooked in his words, yourself included. He dropped his voice so it was lower, almost sensual. “My favorite part is being able to trace every inch of her body, touching the places that only I get to see. In the moment it’s just the two of us moving together, pressing and pulling...grinding."

Dean was and always will be a flirt, it was in his personality. A special skill set of his that you admired even before got together with him. Sometimes all it took was a pretty smile for you to feel swooned. While he might annoy you with that mouth of his most of the time, he also could get you in the mood. And it seemed you weren’t the only one starting to awkwardly shift in your seat from the way he was going on. You scratched the back of your ear as you tried to keep yourself focused and not lulled into a fantasy while he went on.

“You forget about everything and everyone around you when you hit that perfect spot. All you can think about is reaching the end. And slowly, everything just builds and builds and builds until it all just..." Dean made an explosive noise to sneakily hint at what he was saying, trying to keep it family friendly. Tammy found herself lost in the moment, crushing the paper with her written verse, as if she was trying to calm herself down.

Sam was starting to hate his brother at the moment. The room shifted to an awkward tone after hearing what kind of filth Dean thought would be appropriate enough to speak about. Simple talk that got even the prudent of virgins fidgeting in their seats. You weren’t saved from his ever present glare when you happened to feel his lingering stare upon you. You guessed it was for the confession you made yourself, and not stopping Dean when you should’ve. You innocently shrugged your shoulders and looked on, never admitting to the fact you were lost in the moment like every other woman here. Sam’s expression changed into his infamous bitchface to his brother, appearing again in the span of a few minutes.

“But the whole thing was just a little too, uh...sticky. And complicated. So, uh, I got my ‘V’ card back so I can do things right.” Dean topped off his confession with a smile and a slap to his knee. “The end.”

After Dean’s explicit confession, the meeting continued on like normal without anything titillating details from the other members. You half-listened to everyone else as they took the opportunity to confess themselves of what almost tempted them this week along with a couple of Bible verses being read aloud to help strengthen the bond to their abstinence before wrapping up things. You helped clean up the chairs and tidy up things, deciding it was the least you could do after your share.

Luckily the meeting continued on like normal without anything else more...exciting from the other members. You half listened to everyone take the opportunity to confess this week what tempted them and a couple of Bible verses before wrapping up. You helped clean up the chairs and tidy things up, deciding to be a little bit respectful after the share you had. To be honest, you said all of those things out of fun, knowing your sexual history was a tad bit odd compared to most.

You made your way back over to the boys after all of you did your share to help clean up the place, letting everyone else mingle among one another. Sam didn’t waste a second after getting you and Dean to enough of a deserted spot to share his discomfort felt during the entire meeting because of the both of you. You broke out into a smile even before he could get the words out.

“So, wee bit of an over share, guys?” Sam sarcastically asked you, still squirming around at the details forever burned in his mind. You let out a chuckle in amusement. “It’s not funny, Y/N.”

“Kind of is, Sammy.” You teased him.

“I was purifying.” Dean said, going to his defense about the reason why he went so graphic. He found himself losing track of focus when he spotted the consular, Suzy, talking to one of the members. “Hey, she look familiar to you? Swear I know her from somewhere.”

“Pack it up, Casanova. That stupid line might work, but you’re not single anymore.” You reminded him.

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s no one in this world I want to give up my virginity to again besides you.” Dean laid it on thick with the flirtation when you took his words the wrong way. You rolled your eyes. “Seriously. It’s bugging me. Come on, let’s go find out.”

You felt a tap on your shoulder, delaying you from responding to Dean’s request. You looked over to see it was Bonnie standing there with a too wide of a smile. “I’ll catch up in a second, hun. The girls need to talk.” You joked with Dean, nodding your head to Bonnie. He escaped before he could find out what she wanted to talk to you about. You returned the smile when you glanced back over to her. “Hey.”

“So?” She asked you, curious for you to answer something you had no idea what for. You raised your brows and continued to smile, wondering what the hell she was baiting. “How did you like the meeting? That was quite a share.”

“I loved it. I know, but I feel so comfortable around you guys. This is the first time I’ve ever come clean about this stuff to someone else.” You said. You decided to play along for the hell of it, laying on the act extra thick as you went on. “You know, I couldn't help but think of those who weren't here.”

“Oh. Honor. She's my favorite.” Bonnie said, sadly smiling at the mention of the missing member. Before she could continue this riveting conversation, Bonnie found her attention lingering over to the snack table where she saw one of the women sneaking an extra snack for later. “Would you excuse me?”

“Of course.” You said, stepping out of the way to Bonnie could tend to whatever needed her attention. You thought you might be able to finally sneak away and join Dean, who seemed to be in conversation with Suzy. However you were stopped again by another member. She seemed angry for some reason. “Oh. Hi, there.”

“Her favorite?” She ignored your friendly greeting, too worked up at what she overheard Bonnie say. “She has no idea what kind of girl Honor is.”

“You don't say. Uh, Tammy, right? The poet?” You asked, remembering her name from the horrible poem verse you were able to avoid. She nodded her head. You looked around to see where Sam was, hoping you might be able to sneak away, only it seemed he had your luck when he was cornered by Bonnie after she squashed whatever pulled her away. You withheld the urge to sigh and turned your attention back to her. “Tammy, why don't don't you tell me what kind of girl Honor is?”

That was the wrong thing to ask. She went on a rampage of what kind of person Honor was. You tried your hardest to sound interested as you nodded your head every once in a while, trying to be polite. This wasn’t the kind of stuff you cared for. Or would help the case. “And I bake real cookies for the bake sale. Honor just brings Oreos!” She went on, making you pretend to be shocked. “I mean, she’s not as innocent as everyone thinks she is.”

“What do you mean by that?” You asked her, your tone shifting into a more serious one.

“All I’m saying is that she’s going to hell.” Tammy said. “And you would be too if you didn’t confess those things and come here to repurify yourself. I bet you feel so much better.”

“For sure. I mean, I already been to hell twice. Not fun.” You said. You let out a breath of relief when Dean waved his arm up in the air, catching your attention. His face scrunching up in confusion as to why you were still talking to Tammy. “Could you excuse me? My boyfriend needs me.”

“Is that supposed to be like some kind of metaphor…?” Tammy’s expression dropped at hearing what you just said, making her confused. “Oh! Nice talking to you!”

You politely smiled before turning around and finally headed over to Dean and Suzy, wondering what kind of trouble he was getting himself into during your short time away. You doubt he made a good impression on the woman. But it seemed she wasn’t as quick to judge one from the way she was casually speaking to him, no spouts of words about the damnation he was going to face after death. She seemed the most approachable out of anyone here. Maybe that’s why she was in charge of running the group here. You politely squeezed yourself into the conversation when Suzy spotted you lingering before she smiled, welcoming you right in.

“I hope he’s not bothering you too much.” You playfully joked with the woman. “Dean tends to get a bit excited about these kinds of things. If there’s anything he loves more than me it’s God.”

“Suzy and I were just talking. I swear I’ve seen her face before. I just can’t put my finger on it.” Dean said. “But we were also discussing the fact that she does private counseling.”

“Really? So everyone in the group dishes to you?” You asked curiously.

“They confide. Abstinence is really rough without support and education. It’s a wonderful thing the both of you decided to go on this journey together.” Suzy said, smiling in a kind of way that was admirable for the clear love you and Dean had for each other. And yet you could see there was almost a sadness behind it, almost envious. “Hey, you know what? I have some great books on the vow that really helped me. I live close. I'll just go grab them.”

“No, that’s okay—“ Dean tried to protest the idea of making Suzy go through all the trouble, wanting more to get back to the motel. You quickly cut him off, making his grip around your waist tighten ever so much.

“With a kidnapper on the loose? We can go with you.” You suggested. Out of anyone, Suzy seemed like a sweet woman who wasn’t going to bombard you with guilt over your past behavior. Maybe if you got her alone she might be able to tell you something about Honor and the other missing couple. “Let Dean and I walk you home.”

“No, I'll be fine.” Suzy reassured you.

“Please. It’s the least we could do. Just to be safe.” You told her. When you saw the woman let out a breath, almost as if she was a bit relieved, you smiled. “Just let us pop over to Sam and we’ll be right back.”

Dean dropped his friendly face when he stepped away from Suzy after unwillingly being dragged around town when he wanted nothing more than to go back to the motel with you. You decided to put your efforts on something more important when you had the opportunity than jump into bed the first chance you got. You lost your virginity late in life, you could wait a little while to lose it again. You made your way over to Sam after he wrapped up a conversation with Tammy after he was cornered by the young woman. It seemed she had the same effect on the man from the expression that lingered on his face after she left.

“Hey, we’re gonna walk Suzy home. See if she might know anything else about the vics.” You told the younger man. “Can you stick around here and possibly talk to the rest of the group? See if you might be able to get anything else out?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam didn’t seem to buy what you were saying, presuming it was a cheap cover to get out of here and back to the motel. “You know, I’m actually trying to work here. I don’t think it’s fair you two are trying to sneak off.”

“Come on, look. You know if Dean was single he’d be all over Suzy trying to do more than just bring her home.” You said. Sam shrugged at the thought, nodding in agreement. “We’re focused as much as you are on the case. No one’s jumping into bed just yet. We're gonna take Suzy home and see if she might know anything else about the people who went missing."

Sam agreed with the plan from how it sounded coming from you. He waited a few seconds before he nodded his head, letting you and his brother head out with Suzy back to her apartment. Right as Sam turned around to see who else he might be able to speak to, he jumped slightly in surprise at seeing Tammy standing there, a little too wide of a smile on her face when she caught him alone. He managed to hide the sigh that wanted to come out behind a forced smile. He hoped all of this was going to be worth it in the end.

+ + +

The walk to Suzy’s apartment wasn’t too far from the church like she said, the time it took to get there was filled with mindless chatter about what she thought of the town and church. She had nothing but positive things to say since moving here a few months ago herself. You continued on with the fake lie about yourself to keep the conversation going, telling her how you and Dean were planning on getting hitched and how this town was a fresh start for you and the boys. The three of you were a close family after your parents passed away, the only part of your story that was true.

Right away she got to work finding those books she mentioned back at the church. You decided to shrug off your jacket, not sure how long you were going to be here, and decided to look around yourself at how she decorated her place. Suzy mentioned there were quite a few books around here specifically for couples. Your offer to help when asked was granted when she mentioned there were some in a cabinet you were standing next to. You opened up the small door and crouched down to see what she had here. You skimmed her vast collection of books out of partial curiosity to see what an abstinence consular enjoyed to read. When you found what you needed, you cradled them in your arms and got back up, only to discover you felt a strange lingering stare on you. You turned around and spotted Dean’s eyes where they shouldn’t be.

You shot him a warning glare to behave before Suzy caught you. Dean’s smirk when he was caught by you was wiped off his face when you a little too roughly plopped the books down to his hands, Suzy followed suit a few moments later with several more of her own. He muffed a grunt from the several self help books he was forced to carry. You smiled in appreciation and slapped the pile with a little too much force, making him almost lose balance on the books. He struggled to catch them before they could tumble to the ground.

“Thanks, honey.” You cooed. “You’re so strong.”

“Okay. So,” Suzy seemed content at the eight books Dean was currently holding, hoping it would be enough reading material to get started with. “why don't you guys breeze through these, and I'm gonna head to the little girls' room.”

Suzy excused herself before disappearing to another part of her apartment, leaving you and Dean alone in her living room. Dean wasted no time ditching the books somewhere else as you casually looked around the place, all though you weren't sure yet of what you were looking for. It appeared to be like any other bachelorette home. You wandered around the place, glancing over at framed pictures of her life and examining little knick-knacks decorated around the place. Right as you were about to pick up a snowglobe, your cell phone started ringing, distracting you from your search. You looked at the screen to see that it was Sam, probably to check up on you and Dean. You went to answer the call when you spotted a half-open drawer that caught your attention. You let it ring a few more times before you finally answered it, all while opening the drawer just enough to see what was inside, wondering if it was some sort of junk drawer. Only it was much more.

You pulled out a few DVDs that weren't blockbuster movies from the cover. More dirty films from the familiar titles you heard of. You let out a quiet chuckle from the discovery you made. Apparently Miss Abstinence was a former adult star. That's why Dean knew who she was. She had a pretty active role in Casa Erotica, her movie was so good you knew the man kept a downloaded file on his computer. A secret porn stash he thought you knew nothing about. You quickly tucked them back away when an idea popped into your head.

You almost forgot about the call with Sam when you heard his voice from the other line call out your name in a slightly annoyed tone from your delayed response. You closed the drawer with your hip and turned around in your spot so you could casually lean against the dresser. Dean tossed you a confused look from the way you were acting as you finally answered his brother's insensent attempts of getting your attention before he could think the worse.

You half-listened to what he was saying about the case, something about how this wasn't the work of a dragon, but all you could focus on was the sound of Suzy opening up the bathroom door. You told Sam you'd call him back before ending the call. As Suzy stepped back into the living room, you realized the promise you made to Sam was about to be broken. It could've waited until after the hunt was over, but you figured you waited around long enough for your first time.

“I gotta go.” You said, making sure your tone of voice sounded disappointed at how you were skipping out so soon on her. Suzy seemed worried from the way you were acting from the short time she was away. “Oh, it’s nothing. Sam’s just having a bit of trouble. You know men. Always something.”

“Are you sure? It sounds serious.” Dean tried to get himself out of here before he could be pulled into the virtues of why keeping his virginity until marriage was for him. “Maybe we both should make sure he’s all right.”

“That’s okay, honey. He just needs me to pop by the store and pick up some stuff.” You said. The look on Dean’s face was easy to tell he wasn’t buying your lie, despite how it was going to be all for him. He’d find out soon enough. “Thank you for everything, Suzy. I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

Suzy seemed a bit upset at seeing you go so soon before she could properly go through some helpful techniques that you probably could've used. Dean tossed you daggers from leaving him here to spend God knows how long entertaining the consular. You gave him an adoring smile and waved goodbye to your boyfriend, figuring he would be thanking you for leaving him here after the surprise you had planned for him after he got back to the motel.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat // @romanovanoffsstuff // @underthestarrsss // @lady-elena-adeline // @akshi8278

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pudding-head-kenma · 4 years

Text

You’re My Happiest Place [ Wakatoshi x Reader ]

Request: Can i request ushijima x gf manager reader Karasuno boys had a sleepover and decided to stroll around then saw the reader buying snacks at the convience store with ushijima being clingy to her and cuddles too thanks❤️

A/N: This might be a little all over the place, I was having fun with Karasuno being crackheads but also introducing the relationship between Toshi and his gf, I hope it’s still enjoyable nonetheless!

“I’m telling you, there’s no other rational explanation!” Hinata keeps pressing the subject, and by now nobody’s really paying attention to this argument. They know better than to argue against the boy, especially when he gets silly ideas into his head that prove to be difficult to push away. They just let him have his moment, opting for not agreeing nor disagreeing, safely going through the conversation on neutral grounds. Not Kageyama, though, he’s not buying any of this.

“And I’m telling you, dumbass, a ghost did not make you toast.”

“I didn’t put the bread in, my mom wasn’t home, my sister wouldn’t ever go near the toaster! Who put the bread in, then?!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you HONESTLY believe-”

“STOP YELLING!” Daichi, as usual, has had enough of them arguing in the middle of the street and bothering just about everyone that walks by them. Although they don’t say anything, the other third years are thankful for the captain’s yelling, hoping for some peace and quiet now that he has told them off – seriously, they’re five seconds away from Nishinoya joining in the conversation and take neither side, instead making up a story of his own that would surely worsen the situation.

“Sorry.”

The next few moments are quiet, before everyone goes back to their conversations; they hadn’t had a sleepover together in a while, so they had wasted a lot of time just catching up in general about things that weren’t related to the team, even Tsukishima had blessed them with a few short sentences, and yet they all still seemed to have a lot to talk about.

Yamaguchi had claimed a spot next to Tsukishima, both of them walking far behind the group in hopes of not having to deal with Hinata. Sugawara and Daichi walked ahead of the group, involved in their own little conversation, while Asahi was borderline bullied by Tanaka and Nishinoya, Ennoshita desperately trying to get them to stop. Kinoshita and Narita walked a bit away from the group as well, mostly laughing at the scene in front of them. The remaining two were still glaring at each other, but they had dropped the ghost talk by now.

“Woah, guys-”

“If you tell us you thought of a reason why we should believe your ghost theory, I’m going to throw you off of that bridge over there.” After a good hour or two of silence from Tsukishima, he had spoken up in a warning tone, glaring daggers at the smaller middle blocker in front of him. Seriously, how long can this conversation go on for?

“I wasn’t going to! I was just gonna ask if that’s Ushiwaka over there.”

There’s a collective ‘huh’ from the group, and soon they’re all turning their heads to the place Hinata is bluntly pointing to. He’s a few feet away and turned around, but they can definitely tell it’s him.

“What is that bastard doing in our territory?!”

“I think we should go over there and teach him a lesson!”

“Our territory... Please be quiet, you’re embarrassing us.” Sugawara sighed, shaking his head at Tanaka and Nishinoya, who looked just about ready to go provoke Ushijima. “Technically, if you want to go all gang talk on us, we’re the ones in his territory. See? We’re close to Shiratorizawa” He nodded up towards a street sign, and that was enough to make the other two calm down – though Tanaka definitely looked disappointed for losing his excuse to pick a fight.

Although they have no intention of speaking to him directly, most of the boys are still looking at him, and the whole group has collectively stopped walking. There’s a certain tension in the air, be it competition or whatever else, and they can’t seem to walk away, even if they weren’t spotted.

In reality, it’s probably because it’s a once in a time chance. They rarely come to this part of town all together, and it’s probably not that easy to spot Ushijima out in public without his team. It’s like a peek into his life, not just as a volleyball player, and it’s somehow intriguing.

It becomes even more intriguing as Ushijima approaches a girl, and wraps his arms around her from behind.

Tanaka seems pretty offended by that. “That bastard! How dare he grab an innocent girl? Noya, let’s go over there-”

“And teach him not to mess with pretty women like that! My thoughts exactly, let’s go!”

They’re both grabbed by the back of their shirts before they can venture any further, Daichi more than annoyed at their reckless behaviour by now.

“Are you stupid? They’re obviously dating.”

Chaos ensues.

You jump a little at the sudden touch, but you’re quick to recognise the gentle hands around your waist. You tilt your head back ever so slightly, comfortably resting against him as you look through a few items on the shelf.

Despite what everyone might think, Wakatoshi is a very affectionate boyfriend. You wouldn’t exactly call him clingy, but he does enjoy physical contact from time to time. You find he likes grabbing your hand in crowds, enjoys wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you close to him, and it’s not rare for him to kiss you before practise, even if his teammates are around. He’s not shy about anything, having always been a blunt person, so he sees no point in being shy about his relationship, either.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. I thought I told you to go ahead and go home?”

“Felt like waiting for you.”

One of the best things about being in a relationship with Wakatoshi is that he’s very honest. You never second guess the truth behind his feelings, because he has never been one to sugar coat anything. If he likes you, he says it. If he doesn’t like something, he says it. It’s not hard, and it shouldn’t have to be. You always feel secure in your relationship, because you trust him to always be open with you. That’s why he’s so blunt about his display of affection, too.

His arms tighten around you, nudging his nose against your cheek in hopes of catching your attention, and for a split second you forget what you’re even trying to read on the package, instead glancing at him. He’s quick to act, knowing he only has a few seconds to press his lips against yours, and he does so without even thinking too much about it before giving you a little more space to finish your shopping.

Most people would think he’s rude; that’s one of the downsides of him being so blunt, he always says what goes through his head with little to no filter, which people often associate with not being polite rather than just not being a liar. Coming from that same judgement that he’s rude, people end up assuming he’s not very touchy at all and would rather keep his distance from everyone. That’s just not true, it’s mostly that he’s only affectionate with people he trusts.

You eventually nudge him a little, and he’s quick to catch the hint and let go, following closely behind you as you pick up the rest of the snacks and head to the counter. He’s faster than you, and he’s already offering the little old man working there some money. You know better than to complain, he’d tell you what he always tells you: ‘I wanted to do that for you.’ At first, it bothered you, but you’ve grown used to it. He told you he’s happy when he does things for you, and you’re not exactly angry at the fact he wants to buy you things. You both came to an agreement that he wouldn’t overdo it, though.

As you head out, you both remain quiet when you notice the poorly hidden boys behind a few bushes; You recognise them, of course, they’re from Karasuno. You already know two of them had ran into your boyfriend before, their blunt behaviour having surprised even the bluntest person you know. It’s a little funny, and you’re almost unable to stop yourself from laughing. But as Wakatoshi reaches to hold your hand all those thoughts seem to melt away, and you’re instead focused on him completely.

When you’re both in his room, he’s even more open with his feelings. He doesn’t take long at all to pull you into his arms. His cuddling usually depends on his mood; usually, he likes holding you against his chest, having you on top of him so he can keep his arms tight around you, and so that you can hear his heart. When he’s tired from practise, however, he likes to hold your waist and lie down on your chest, listening to your heart instead. He seems to be tired today, and your arms move on their own, your hands tangling in his hair as you softly comb it, knowing it’s going to relax him.

“I’m happy you decided to be our manager.”

You smile, knowing he’s about to bluntly talk about his feelings again. You hum in response, gently scratching his scalp, to which he responds by tightening his grip around you, bringing you closer. Wakatoshi always likes bringing you as close as possible when the two of you are alone.

“Why?”

He doesn’t hesitate. He never does, doesn’t see why he should.

“I wouldn’t have talked to you otherwise. And you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

He always tell you that. You see the way his eyes shine when he wins a match, you see the way he swells up with pride whenever he delivers the perfect spike, you hear the passion in his words when he talks about volleyball – but they never compare to you. None of that compares to you, it never could. He knew it from the start, and he helped you learn it as well.

You’re both quiet after that. You’re aware that he’s tired and might just need a nap. In his embrace, you always seem to feel sleepy as well. You call it a curse, and yet he calls it a blessing – to be able to hold you close without bothering you, since you’re both feeling exhausted. So you let your eyes close, your hands stopping their movements after a few moments as you both fall into a deep sleep. You can’t tell which one fell asleep first, but neither of you let go.

You almost hear one of the Karasuno boys yell out how unfair it is that Wakatoshi gets everything, even dating his team’s manager.

Almost.

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ink-and-flame · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Intensity Shattered

Kinktober Day 1 Prompts: Throat Fucking ~ Pain (mild) ~ Suspension (horizontal)

Fandom: Original

Tags: exophilia, angst & porn, throat fucking, pain, bondage, suspension, scissoring (f/f), hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort (kind of a mixed bag here between scenes)

Pairing: Orc(m)/Human(f), ?M/HumanF, HumanM/HumanF, HumanF/HumanF | Darnok/Lia, Lucien/Ember, Zane/Lia, Ember/Lia

[Author’s Note: It has been a long time since I have written anything and I felt the need to finish out this portion of the story. While this was intended to be part of kinktober 2020, I never got to it in time. This is where things start to go a bit pearshapped, though not nearly as dark as I had originally intended, things will get worse before they get better. I revamped the whole last few parts of this because the original prompts from 2020 were too dark and so this is not the way I had originally outlined the last few parts of this story to go.]

It had been some time before Lia could go back to the club. The last scene, though intensely hot, had almost landed her in the hospital. The medics had to be called when she didn’t regain consciousness after a few moments and her throat was in a sorry state. It was recommended, strongly, that she take some time off to heal. The owners did not want to be held responsible if further injury occurred and of course she understood.

Darnok had felt terrible, both he and Gorvaal were nothing but apologetic about the situation. It was something unexpected, and Lia couldn’t be mad. She had plenty of experience and practice and she wasn’t sure what made this time different, but it was and she needed time to heal. She reassured both orcs that she was fine and not angry, as best she could without a fully functioning voice, and she could see the guilt in Dar’s eyes when they were finally alone.

As much as Lia had done her best to reassure him, something inside of her twisted and pinched a bit. She kept thinking that she had forgotten something important and for some reason Gorvaal had made that feeling stronger. It nagged at her and kept popping up in the back of her head any moment she had down time.

With forced time off from the club, Lia couldn’t see Dar. They only ever met at the club, and only used the hotel afterwards. If he was going to the club without her, she had no way of really knowing unless she asked Ember, something that felt a little too close to spying if she thought about that hard enough. That didn’t make it hurt any less, and had Lia in a bit of a funk while she healed.

The more time that passed the more that nagging feeling got stronger until she was on her computer and going through her history. She had found some shoes and a nice bag she wanted to get but for the life of her could not remember where she saw them. As she dug around in her history, Lia found the searches for Taledras. Against her better judgement, Lia reopened them and did a little more searching. The more information she found the more her heart sank. The woman from before was Ariana Taledras, the youngest daughter of a wealthy and powerful fae family. There was a full page article about her engagement party, how it was the event of the year, not to be missed.

Darnok was engaged.

Tears streaked paths down Lia’s cheeks. She had always know, inside, that something was off. She just didn’t know what it was. Now she did. There was no way to know how long Dar had been with this woman, but their engagement was going to be formalized in less than a year. Lia felt gutted and was thankful for the time away from both the club and work. She was in no condition to do much more than cry and desperately try to comfort herself.

Crawling into bed Lia sobbed into her pillow, deep heaving sobs, as her heart fully broke. There was a sharpness to the pain she felt as her sobs shook her body. She screamed into the pillow until her voice completely gave out. All the healing, undone in a moment. The edges of her vision had pinpricks of light, spots of dark, as she cried hard enough to give herself a pounding headache. At some point she simply exhausted herself to the point of sleep.

Lia was wrapped in a blanket on her couch when there was a knock on the door. She ignored it, as she had been ignoring everything for days. However, this knock was insistent and not going away. With a groan Lia got up and went to her door, opening it and seeing Ember standing there looking quite worried.

“Man you look like shit!”

“Thank you, I try” Lia quipped as she gestured for Ember to come in. She knew her friend well enough to know that the other woman was not going to leave.

“So, what happened. I heard you got hurt, but that was a while ago, and you haven’t been answering your phone, or texts, or DMs, or even email. Like, nothing.” Ember sat on the couch next to Lia looking at her friend with concern.

“He’s engaged.”

Ember just looked confused. “What? Who again?”

“Darnok. He is engaged. I saw the article about the party they are throwing next year to make it official, or I don’t know, it's some next step thing. I couldn’t finish the article.” Lia was crying again. This time silently.

“Shit, fuck, well damn thats. Fuck that is really shitty. Was this recent and he just hasn’t had a chance to tell you?” Ember already knew the answer but hoped she was wrong.

“I suspected, for a while that he was in a relationship. There were things that made it not seem like it on occasion, and other times, I dunno, it just always was right there on the edge of my mind. Then at that event he ran, Gorvaal mentioned something about a Taledras. I looked it up, it isn’t a what like I originally thought, but a who. She is a rich, powerful, beautiful fae.” Lia hiccuped. “Honestly everything makes sense now. Why he never wanted to collar me, why he sometimes kept me at arms length. I mean she is beyond gorgeous, everything I could never be, I just can’t understand what he wanted with me. That is the only confusing part.”

Ember sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she tried to think logically and not immediately go to the club and make one hell of a scene. “Honestly, this isn’t uncommon among rich couples, from what I hear anyway. Often they will have side pieces and there are rules, but I always thought that was just in movies and books. I didn’t think it was something that actually happened.” Ember scooted closer putting an arm around Lia. “Did you talk to him yet?”

“No. What is the point? What would I even say?” Lia leaned into Ember and cried while her friend just held her in silence. What could any of them say really?

It had been almost two months since Lia was last in the club. She had been healed enough for a while, but emotionally she was still in shambles. Moping around wasn’t helping and Ember had practically moved in just so she could make sure that Lia was taking care of herself and not doing anything dumb.

It was nice to know that Ember was a true friend and she had done a lot to help Lia begin to feel normal again. Normal enough to start talking about the club and how to handle seeing Darnok again. Lia still wasn’t sure that she could do it, but Ember promised that Lucien and Zane would be there to help as well. She even suggested doing scenes with one or both of the men, to try and distance herself from Darnok. There was a concern that this experience would turn her away from the lifestyle for good and Ember didn’t want that, neither did Lia. Kink had become an integral part of her life and she wasn’t ready to give it up. Even if it took her time to find her place of comfort again.

The plan was to go to the club this weekend, Ember sticking with her, and seeing if Lucien or Zane would be willing to do a scene. If nothing else, Ember, being a switch, offered to do a scene with Lia just to help her ease back into things. Something that made Lia blush heavily and they had to have a bit of a conversation on if that sort of thing could interfere with their friendship. Something neither woman wanted, so it would be approached with caution should that be the situation they landed on.

Luckily both Lucian and Zane were available for a scene so neither of the women had to worry about compromising their friendship just yet. Zane was curious why Lia had come to them first, but didn’t question it. While Lucien just watched Lia with the strangest expression. He was the one that suggested they all four use one of the rooms and do a group scene. Something exciting, but they would let Lia choose the intensity, since she had been gone for a while.

“You know, I remember that party where I was art and in a cage. There was something so relaxing about it, I went deep into sub space, is there anything like that we can do?” Lia looked between her friends hopefully.

“There are a few options. If you are comfortable with bondage we could do some rope suspension. How have you healed by the way?” Lucien asked as he looked Lia up and down his eyes flashing between a range of colors.

“Fully, I just stayed gone a little longer to be safe. That and work.” Lia knew that was a half truth at best, but she wanted to enjoy the night.

“Suspension sounds fun” Ember said with a smile. “And we don’t have to go overboard with the bondage part so we can do some light suspension, or even use swings instead of rope.”

With the activity decided Lucian and Zane gathered up the equipment they would need. The room had ceiling braces with loops hanging down. Something they could easily tie rope to. Though Lucien suggested using a few swing pieces to help hold the girls up, so all their weight wasn’t on the ropes. He had an idea for how he wanted them both bound and it would take a bit of work to get them into that position and bound together.

Using silk rope, Lucien began binding Lia, while Zane bound Ember. Both girls were bound together, in a scissoring position. It took a bit of conversation to make sure everyone was comfortable with it, but as this was a group scene and not one on one, Lia was more comfortable with the idea of sharing pleasure with Ember. Plus, she was really curious how it might feel and she was more than a little excited to find out.

With their crotches pushed together, their thighs bound to each other, and their arms bound behind their backs. Lia realized she was almost completely immobile, but she wasn’t afraid. The men used the swing equipment to help get them both suspended in the air, something that didn’t seem easy, but Lucien was deceptively, inhumanly, even otherworldly strong.

Once in position Lia wiggled a bit to test her range of motion and found that it felt really good to wiggle like that, and the quiet sound that Ember made was a clue that she also felt good. Giggling a bit, Lia looked between Zane and Lucien.

“Ok, we are all tied up, now what?”

“With your permission of course, I think I know what both Zane and I would like, but I will let you choose who you are with Lia. There will be no hard feelings no matter the choice.” Lucien smiled and began stripping off his clothing.

Zane followed suit and both men were bare before Lia and Ember. Lia had seen Lucien before and liked his body. He was strong, but a bit more Lithe and tall, like a dancer or gymnast, though he still had a good bit of muscle and definition. Zane on the other hand was more bulky, muscular, a bit soft around the middle, but not much. He was also incredibly hairy. Lia had never seen that much body hair on a man before and she kind of liked it.

“I think I will choose Zane this time, since we have already had some time together with Lucien.” Lia winked at him with a smile.

“Wow really? I didn’t know you two hooked up. Man, I am always the last to the party huh?” Zane walked over to Lia pushing his long hair back from his face and looking down at her.

Lia realized, rather suddenly, that they were suspended at nearly the perfect height for their mouths to be used easily. She smirked a bit and looked up at Zane. He was handsome. Almost inhumanly tall, but quite handsome. He had such rugged features, and despite all their playful flirting it had never gone anywhere in the past. Though her attraction to him was quite real, she had always just been too caught up in Darnok to really look that intensely at Zane.

She found herself blushing when he gently stroked her face with his large hands, she could feel the callouses and honestly didn’t mind them. She wished her hands were not bound, the hair on his body was so inviting, she wanted to touch him, to run her fingers through it. The hair on his head was a few shades darker than the hair on his body, the contrast interesting to her. Lia looked up, noticing he was hard as he had been watching her study him. When her eyes met his, for a moment she swore they were yellow, but it must have been a trick of the light.

“If you are sure, I heard what injured you before, and I am not really all that big into hurting my partners like that.” Zane was focused on Lia taking in her scent, reading her body, looking for any hint that she wasn’t sure or was hesitant about any of it.

“I promise I am ok.” She tried to look down at Lucien but was struggling. “Lucien, tell him I am ok.”

Lucien laughed, it was a dark smokey laugh with a strange echo to it. “I assure you Zane, I would have sent her right home if she wasn’t fully healed. I can see how eager she is. You need to relax and let yourself enjoy it.” Lucien paused, blinked in a way that from a certain angle it looked like he had two sets of eyelids, and then spoke again. “Since when are you the uptight one?”

At that Zane started laughing, which caused Ember to have the giggles, which gave Lia the giggles as well as Lucien just looked at them all.

“Really now, this is supposed to be a serious scene. How am I supposed to exude the energy of a stoic dominant if you are all having giggle fits!”

That statement only made them laugh harder, something that had Lucien smiling slyly. He knew the heartbreak that Lia was feeling. He knew this was a distraction, and one she desperately needed. He also knew that Zane would be more gentle with her than anyone else could be. Despite never wanting to harm her, Lia was an enigma and Lucien could see himself going a little too far with her.

“Are you all quite finished?”

The giggling died down and Zane nodded, followed by Lia and Ember, the latter of which opened her mouth for Lucien, trying to at least feign some semblance of obedience. The offer of which was taken with a slow teasing stroke of Lucien's cock against Ember's lips before he slid into her mouth with a groan. His focus now on the woman bound and trusting him.

Zane paused, watching them for a moment before looking down at Lia and stroking her face. “You have my permission to bite me if I get too rough or go too far. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lia nodded and leaned her head up a bit to kiss the tip of Zane’s cock, giving it a little flick with her tongue, smiling as he visibly shuddered and made a small sound that she wanted to hear more of. No more words were needed as he stepped closer and pushed his cock slowly into her waiting open mouth. He was more gentle than Lia had expected, more gentle than she had really experienced in the past, she was curious how he had so much control.

The scene started out slow, both men being careful with their partners, making sure not to thrust too hard or push too deep. Though control was beginning to slip for both men as the scene became more intense. With each thrust Ember and Lia were pushed together, their slick folds and clits rubbing against each other, increasing their pleasure.

Lia had no idea that rubbing against another woman could feel this good and she had to think about that later when she could actually rub her brain cells together since she was enjoying this far more than she thought she would. Zane’s cock was thick, but not as thick as Darnoks. It was a good size, and despite his height, he still wasn’t orc big. Something Lia was thankful for. The size of him, the feel of him, the curve, she had to admit it, Zane had a really nice cock and she was somewhat eager to feel it elsewhere. Something that sent a sting of guilt through her, and she pushed it away as quickly as it showed up.

It was easy to tell once Zane was starting to get closer to the edge. His thrusts became rougher, his control clearly slipping. She could feel his hands gripping her breasts, teasing her nipples, though his nails felt weirdly longer, but that was probably her imagination. She was enjoying it too much. The harder he thrust the more it pushed her into Ember and the more friction she was able to feel. It was clear both men were trying to time their thrusts to push the girls together harder. Lia could hear Ember moaning around Lucien’s cock, and it was all just turning her on more.

Somehow it felt like Zane’s cock was getting bigger and her throat hurt a bit, but she wasn’t going to stop now. Lia was close herself and she wanted this. Zane was grunting, making little growling noises as he thrust deeper and harder into her throat. She could feel him swelling, getting closer and closer to release, something she was also getting closer to.

Soon Lia felt that euphoria as her core clenched a bit. She was going to cum soon, and the burning pain in her throat was ignored as she felt Zane push harder into her throat, his grip on her painfully tight, tight enough to leave bruises. All of that was forgotten as she arched and came against Ember, feeling an intense throbbing release as she was pushed against the other woman. She wasn’t sure but she thought she felt Ember cumming too. That thought was pushed aside as Zane came with a loud sound, that was somewhat like a howl, but Lia was pretty sure that was her imagination as her throat and mouth were filled with a hot flood of cum.

When Zane pulled out Lia coughed a bit to clear her airways, but otherwise felt mostly fine. She had cum all over her face so her eyes were closed, but soon she could feel a wet cloth cleaning her up.

“Sorry, I am so sorry Lia, I lost control at the end there. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Why didn’t you bite me?”

It took Lia a bit to answer, she smiled up at Zane, her voice a little hoarse. “Because I like it, and it didn’t hurt that much, I promise.”

Both men took their time to carefully get the women down. Moving them over to the bed, rubbing their limbs to help them get feeling back. The four of them cuddled for a bit, enjoying the afterglow and each other's company. Aftercare was important, even as a group, and the women were doted on and given anything they wanted or needed.

Lia found she liked how it felt to be snuggled against Zane, he was really warm and the hair on his body felt nice against her skin. Though that strange guilty feeling was back and she did her best to push it away, this moment was not going to be ruined because she was an emotional and mental mess.

Soon it was time to get dressed and vacate the room. They headed back to the VIP area and talked for a while, sharing drinks and laughing. Soon it was late and Lia needed to go. Ember hugged her indicating to call her when Lia got there so she could be sure she got home safe. Kissing Zane on the cheek Lia headed to the exit.

What she hadn’t expected, and least wanted, was exactly what happened. She ran into Darnok who seemed surprised to see her. He looked at her curiously.

“I thought I saw you before, coming out from the back rooms, but I wasn’t sure.”

“That was me, I was with Lucien, Zane, and Ember, we did a group scene. It was intense but a lot of fun.” Lia was trying to smile, trying to be normal, trying to hold it together.

Darnok just looked at her, a bit confused. “I wasn’t sure when you would come back. I know you had been injured, but you hadn’t been responding. I didn’t know you were coming back to the club.”

Lia took a breath and looked Darnok in the eyes. “Well.” She paused, praying for strength. “I didn’t know you were engaged. I guess there is a lot we both just don’t know. Goodbye Darnok.” With that Lia pushed past him and headed for the door. She could already feel the tears, and by the time she made it outside she was running to her car fighting back sobs.

Lia didn’t want him to stop her. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. Pulling out of the parking lot she sped off, hoping that she drove fast enough that he could not follow her. Trying to see through the tears, Lia’s heart broke all over again.

#Darnok/Lia #Auchendale Archives #orc boyfriend

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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aaaaarghhhhh just thinking about my comic script and realising that the plot point that made me Mildly Uncomfortable But Felt Probably Ok in 2015 is like. about the worst possible idea from a 2021 perspective. so I'm going to need to rethink the whole script again if I ever want to use it

like. It's a noir tragedy and part of the story is adapting The Bacchae, which involves a powerful man trying to break into a space of wild women in order to spy and destroy it, dressing as a woman, being exposed by his inability to act like a Fucking Person, and being torn apart and destroyed.

and I had it as a musing on lesbophobia and cishet men's fixation on queer women as a symbol of both fetishised sexuality and horror and the ways that that (in my life and others) has manifested in violence, with like a cathartic murder and then ultimately a tragic ending touching on the criminalisation of survivors. But it did retain the element of Pentheus dressing as a woman to enter women's spaces and assault women, and I tried very hard and worked with some pals who are trans women to try and make sure that my script and thumbnails draw a clear distinction between Pentheus the man-entering-a-woman's-space-deceitfully and trans women who are just Being. like half of the protagonists are trans wlw, I tried to be explicit about the difference between what Pentheus was doing vs what the women he was targeting were doing, I did my best to avoid transphobic tropes about like drawing Pentheus as a Stubbly Invading Man In A Dress and all the ~good trans women~ as being Perfectly Feminine, and the story I was telling intended to be pretty explicit about the fact that people prefer to twist the truth to frame the actions of cishet white men as a reason to exclude marginalised people.

so like, it isn't that I hadn't noticed the issue in 2015. and part of the reason that I haven't carried this work forwards over the interceding few years is that it is very much About Bigotry and some of that (misogyny, homophobia, ableism) is in forms I've experienced but a lot of the stories are About racism and transphobia and homophobia against men specifically and as someone who doesn't experience that I think it's risky to write those stories unless it really is being done Extremely Right and very carefully and with a lot of discussion.

but. In 2015 I thought this was justifiable. six years later with TERF rhetoric and policy so absolutely mainstreamed I don't think there's any way to do the Bacchae storyline in a way that isn't open to TERFery. however explicit the story is about trans women having an entirely deserved space in closed wlw communities I can't think that there's any way to handle the image of a man dressing up as a woman to spy on and assault women that doesn't play into the utter bullshit ideas that are unfortunately mainstreamed about The Trans Menace. even if you're explicit about that person not being trans even if every part of his story is very clear about his cisness and his motivations it still fundamentally comes back around to the image of a man in a wig pretending to be a woman to invade spaces that are closed to men. which is fucked.

and idk it sucks a bunch to have to yeet this whole script. there was a lot I really liked in it and of all the stories in Underworld Blues it was in many ways the most personal for me, it touched on the joys of queer community, polyamory, of defining womanhood in your own ways, and very directly on the ways that power and spite and entitlement can absolutely destroy that. like the story I wrote was very about My Trauma (me me me it's about me) and the frustrating thing is that honestly the beginning and end points I think are salvageable, but I'm not sure how I'd reconstruct the story to include the ideas about safe and unsafe spaces and the treatment of wlw spaces as playgrounds for straight cis men with an expectation of power while excising the bits that are. a) kind of grossly gender essentialist by accident, implying that the problem with men is that they're The Enemy rather than that some cishet men are socialised to entitlement and b) feeding into some EXTREMELY transphobic ideas about gender expression as costume and about the deceptiveness people associate with that idea.

like six years ago I talked this through with trans friends and we discussed the need to feel able to (carefully) risk writing problematic shit and being prepared to be held to account but ultimately it seemed justifiable. it doesn't now. if I could think of a way to get Pentheus from point a) which is 'the Gay Parties Are A Threat To Our Ordered Society I'm Going To Spy Creepily On Them' to point b) which is 'Pentheus attempts to take advantage of what he percieves as a consequence-free environment to do what he wants, Is Rightly Shot Dead' while retaining the stuff I want it to say about gender, queerness, power, judgement, sexualisation and rape culture, I would. but I'm. not good at original plot points that's why this is an adaptation of Greek plays.

so. idk. this thing might need to go off the backburner and in the bin for now. which sucks.

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years

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There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid.

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?”

“Why not indeed?”

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison.

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor.

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them.

“Oliver? You okay?”

No.

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins.

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything.

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be?

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant.

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?”

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet.

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse.

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty.

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends.

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone.

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away.

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid.

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look.

In truth, he already does.

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating.

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.”

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -”

“Tempt you?”

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing.

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?”

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -”

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.”

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon.

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth.

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.”

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.”

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.”

“It’s gone midnight!”

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.”

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs.

Flush against his.

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

#cmbyn roll the dice challenge #fanfic #oliver pov #elio and oliver #cmbynrollthedicechallenge

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