#but I do know the whole I Am A Surgeon thing and some discourse on it

[system-of-a-feather]

Honestly, probably not a hot take, but 9/10 times that character with a mental health condition that is "totally not representing it correctly and is an insult and mockery to the disorder" just doesn't resonate and relate to you but does to others and to claim it is "completely inaccurate" is inherently ignoring the diversity of experiences, symptomology, and expression of mental health conditions.

#alter: riku #saw this about monk and ocd #and also thinking about the good doctor and autism #and what not #the good doctor one I dont have a stance on cause I only watched the first season and dont remember shit #but I do know the whole I Am A Surgeon thing and some discourse on it #and its just #stop making sweeping claims #and just say it doesnt relate to your specific experiences with a disorder #shits hardly a monolith #discourse #monk #monk tv

[persephoneflouwers]

Hello, I hope you have a good day

Tw: smoking, cancer

So there's a discourse on twitter going about how louis's smoking habit is dangerous and how it can have very damaging side effects uk with having history of cancer in his family. It bugs me how as fans they can't maintain a boundary.. But i am an anxious mess thinking about it.. I've always been regarding this topic. But now it has exceeded.. How do you manage thoughts like this as a doctor? When you constantly come across cases related to smoking and with the whole situation with lou. Like do you have any tips.?

Feel free to not answer this. 😥

Hello 🌸

Oh, this is a very good question. I’m sorry you’re feeling so overwhelmed right now. I think when you know how diseases work, you see things differently. It’s a bit easier to discriminate the cases: how many cigarettes per day? How long have you been smocking? How old are you? Is this an hereditarian case or were there other preventable factors? We are trained to come to diagnosis. You have to know the clinical history, the clinical presentation, side effects or literally anything in order to come to a conclusion. It comes across arrogant to find a diagnosis based on one thing such as smocking. Smocking is bad, of course it is. What else is new? It’s not just about cancer either. Smoke is the risk factor in every other issues (voice, breathing, stamina etc). But I know how hard it can be to quit too.

Fans have to know their boundaries here. I think fandom anxiety comes from the uncertainty around this topic (does he takes blood tests periodically for example? Is he getting checked every once in a while? Does he have a family medicine doctor who is there for him? We don’t know). The fact is, we don’t know much except for what we see or we are told every once in a while. I think no one has ever had THE talk with Louis about it, but that’s very normal for a young healthy man. The thing with smocking is that has been always so socially accepted it makes it harder to see the struggles of your health because of it. I’ve seen surgeons smocking in front of my two eyes! And I was like “how dare you? You literally operate these things inside people’s bodies!” but you know how humans are. You feel invincible and by the time you realise you are not, the cardiologist has already prescribed anti-hypertension and beta-blockers drugs.

My suggestion is to not take this burden on you. It’s not your job, not your responsibility as a fan (or as a doctor, by the way). Also stay away from twitter if you can. It’s very easy to be overwhelmed by the discourse over there. When something good happens you are surrounded by so much excitement, but it happens with controversial things too. The fact is when we go online and read stuff from other blogs or accounts, we don’t always match the energy. That’s absolutely normal, because we are individuals living our real life in different ways and in different moments. When discourses like this start, we are left with so many questions and worries coming from all the sides and that’s what you want to avoid. Stay away from any thing can make you feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter how little it is. Filter tags, block, say you’re not interested. Do whatever it takes to preserve your experience of the fandom. Today, this discourse feels like an unnecessary concern. Try not to stress on this thinking how being their health counsellor is not your role.

Anyway, this is a reminder to not smoke ffs. Here’s a thread I wrote a couple of years ago for the No Tobacco Day WHO campaign on the Louies science account, in case you’d want to spread some knowledge about the bad effects of smocking. :)

#I would convince Louis to quit by saying he could have erection deficiency issues lol that’s another story. #casella di posta numero 32 #tw smoking #tw cigarettes #tw cancer #it’s also what i call ‘polar opposite’ propaganda #you have to find your ways to not be concerned about the stuff he does #what I do is basically what experience has taught me #in mthe years of med school an hopefully in my career from #now on #i have learned patients are not the most reliable source when it comes to their personal health #they don’t tell you always the truth for many reasons (shame embarrassment stigma fear of being judged fear in general) #this is a reminder to not fucking smoke ffs #i think if the team knows the demographics of his fanbase #they should try to moderate questions and topics like this #because that’s really not how you separate his image from the boybander image lol

[red-talisman]

My ask is about the golden core transfer and what it would mean for jc. So, if it triggers you, don't read it! I feel the need to alert about this! Be safe!

I don't know you, ( and yes! wwx was just a traumatized teenager!), but the golden core transfer gives me so much negative emotions. Fandom focuses on wwx's pain (and it's interesting! ) but jc's situation is dismissed with "you have to be grateful about it. What a disprectful brat he is" and I am like, dude, you okay? (maybe their opinions are influenced by what wn says, without understanding that what he says isn't the truth, but only what he knows would hurt jc, because he *wants to make jc suffer*). I tried to think about what *I* would feel and I triggered myself, lol. I would get insane if I knew that someone put my brother's golden core in me (transferring organs is okay, but in this? I don't know that it's from my brother! Also when people say that jc agrees to the surgeon, I don't know if they understand the concept of "informed consent") . It's disturbing. I can't even imagine how jc feels about it! How can you live in a body which is modified in this way? Do you feel shame? (this is something a lot of victims feel). And I am not even talking about what this would do with jc insecurities! No one ever appreciated his efforts! Maybe in the moment doesn't , but wn's "you would never compere to him!" would destroy jc! And that's terrible and unfair. And more unfair it's how fandom treats this argument! My loved ones manipulated me for my sake : this doesn't make anything better! I can't imagine jc's feeling. This ask is messy, but my emotions are messy about this. The only thing that I know is that disturbed me the way fandom treats all of this. I don't want to be too harsh but I would see wwx and wq as monsters more then heros for this. And I am not even thinking about how can you trust again someone who did this to you! People can't forgive cheating in a relationship, lol. Oh, and the "jc and wwx's relationship is destroyed by jc's jealousy" : I am like: you okay, dude?? But maybe I am the weird one. Sorry if I seem rude! But this argument just triggers me

Thank you for the warning. 🥰

(Under a cut for both length and content. Reminder that I'm a CQL-only fan.)

Fandom focuses on wwx's pain (and it's interesting! ) but jc's situation is dismissed with "you have to be grateful about it. What a disprectful brat he is" and I am like, dude, you okay?

From what you're saying, I think I'm hearing that while the whole golden core scenario itself is upsetting for you, what's worse is really more about how fandom tends to talk about it. If I'm interpreting that correctly, then...yeah, honestly, I agree. 😕 And it sucks, because I think the characters of MDZS/CQL are supposed to be messy, and there are some truly delicious, nuanced discussions about justice and love and sacrifice to be had! Unfortunately, I've had to be more liberal than usual with the block button to avoid losing my love of the show due to the impact of fandom discourse.

Honestly, I feel like the whole fandom response thing often comes down to a few overlapping things:

a person is inclined to defend whichever character they like more and/or reject the character who reminds them of people who have hurt them in some way, which is totally normal! But doesn't lend itself well to textual analysis so much as an analysis on this how a piece of media affects me personally, which is an entirely different thing;

whether some element of the golden core transfer reflects a personal trauma (e.g. bodily autonomy) closely enough to shape their perspective on this whole episode in a way that's different from someone who lacks a similar experience;

a person's comfort level in allowing a character's actions -- especially a favorite character's actions -- to be complicated, messy, and maybe even morally questionable;

whether or not someone has access to evidence-based, accurate information about larger social issues like abuse, consent, etc.

I tried to think about what *I* would feel and I triggered myself, lol. I would get insane if I knew that someone put my brother's golden core in me (transferring organs is okay, but in this? I don't know that it's from my brother! Also when people say that jc agrees to the surgeon, I don't know if they understand the concept of "informed consent") . It's disturbing. I can't even imagine how jc feels about it! How can you live in a body which is modified in this way? Do you feel shame? (this is something a lot of victims feel).

Tbh, I also have some pretty strong feelings of my own. I talked about some of that here, from the perspective of a religious person whose faith has some distant parallels to Taoism. And as a survivor who hasn't always had a say in what happens to my body, I struggle with some of exactly what you describe when I think about the golden core thing and especially fandom's common responses too deeply. (It's why I'm writing a JC-centric fic like Crashing Like Stars in the first place, honestly, lmao.)

I think what I struggle with most is the pageantry that's shown in CQL: how WWX and WQ have a whole theater around it that somehow feels almost as bad to me as the act of transfer itself, maybe because it shows how much premeditation went into what is, by definition, gaslighting. I always have to skip this scene on rewatches, tbh. The non-consensual core exchange is bad enough; the playacting feels like a humiliation to me.

And I am not even talking about what this would do with jc insecurities! No one ever appreciated his efforts!

True, but to be fair...why should they? As far as most other characters are concerned, JC is unfriendly, probably not very fun or pleasant company to sit down to tea with, very obviously cares more about his own sect than anyone else's**, and has had the reputation of a disfavored son for years. The only reason to make nice with this guy is purely for politics, but everyone else has enough of their own stuff happening that there's no incentive to try giving JC the benefit of the doubt -- which he wouldn't even accept anyway, since he'd probably interpret it as condescension or pity.

**Which is true for everyone, of course, but he doesn't have the charm or charisma to at least fake concern for people or 'play the game' like JGY.

If you mean that fandom doesn't appreciate his efforts...I'm not really sure what to say to that mostly because I'm still puzzling over HOW DARN POLARIZING this fictional character is. 😂 Even his haters can't be chill about him and it's rather fascinating to watch, like a trainwreck.

And more unfair it's how fandom treats this argument! My loved ones manipulated me for my sake : this doesn't make anything better! I can't imagine jc's feeling.

I think a lot of people confuse things like context and motivation for justification, and even more so when it's a family member and emotionally charged beliefs about family relationships get pulled into the mix.

This ask is messy, but my emotions are messy about this. The only thing that I know is that disturbed me the way fandom treats all of this.

Unfortunately, when not treated carefully, discussions about fictional characters can cross into more real-world consequences. I've certainly blocked people less because of a disagreement in interpretation and more because their line of argument betrayed much deeper biases that made me feel actively unsafe, and I don't always have the resources or bandwidth to try educating folks who aren't here in good faith.

I don't want to be too harsh but I would see wwx and wq as monsters more then heros for this.

I think it's a false dichotomy, honestly. I don't think WWX and WQ are heroes or monsters: I think they're young people put in horrific circumstances with limited resources and support, forced to make decisions with no good possible outcomes. Again, not meant to justify anything, but I think recognizing that the things we label monstrosity is, itself, a very human thing to do is the best way to begin recognizing why it happens so that effective interventions, preventions, and methods for taking responsibility for one's actions to encourage real healing can be put into place.

And I am not even thinking about how can you trust again someone who did this to you! People can't forgive cheating in a relationship, lol.

Oh man, forgiveness is complicated. Some people DO forgive cheating and even worse, for a whole host of different reasons and motivations! (Me, I hold grudges for years.) But forgiveness can also be customized to a situation: maybe forgiveness is earned, not freely offered; maybe it means letting go of one's resentment towards another but not letting that person back into one's life; maybe the refusal to forgive is itself an act of self-empowerment because forgiveness was always coerced and guilt-tripped prior to that. But again, we come back to folks in fandom not always having a solid grounding to have productive, informed conversations about this sort of thing, which can lead to some REALLY unhelpful hot takes going around.

Oh, and the "jc and wwx's relationship is destroyed by jc's jealousy" : I am like: you okay, dude?? But maybe I am the weird one. Sorry if I seem rude! But this argument just triggers me

I don't think you're weird at all. 😊 JC and WWX's relationship is thorny and messy and multi-layered, compounded by unaddressed trauma and mutually conflicting coping strategies and perspectives, exacerbated by the people around them playing political games with their relationship because of their respective positions of power. I think JC's jealousy is a factor, but it comes from being constantly compared and found wanting since childhood, and we have multiple scenes in CQL where WWX does something Cool (TM) and JC will do that half-exasperated smile or roll his eyes with a laugh or something that clearly isn't mean-spirited. The evolution of their relationship is made by a progression of smaller decisions on both of their parts in the context of family dysfunction, loss, war, and political powerplays, and I think flattening it down to "JC is just a jealous bitch" or, conversely, "WWX is just an arrogant asshole" does a disservice to WHY these goddamn characters have taken so many fans emotionally hostage, lmao.

LONG STORY SHORT I agree or am sympathetic with a lot of what you say, anon, with maybe some different perspective on other pieces, but I found that MXTX fandoms became a lot more lovely when I began using blocking features liberally (and, frankly, avoiding Twitter altogether).

#rt asks #anon #this got long i'm so sorry #'my thoughts on yaoi' by which i mean the golden core and fandom lol

[slightlymore]

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining 

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon. 

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh. 

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels. 

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket. 

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead. 

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder. 

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself. 

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.” 

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients. 

That Jaemin looked exactly like him. 

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt. 

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment. 

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.” 

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes. 

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.” 

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying. 

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips. 

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible. 

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear. 

“Why can’t I talk to her?” 

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet. 

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.” 

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled. 

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath. 

A deep and heavy breath. 

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull. 

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.  

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell. 

Again. 

And again. 

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung. 

And that body as well. 

But it was too broken to be fixed. 

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin. 

It was uncomfortable. 

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled. 

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

 Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose. 

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments. 

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention. 

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back. 

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time. 

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off. 

Yes. Big things. 

Like playing with life and death. 

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine? 

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides. 

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart. 

Again. 

I can do it again. I've done it before. 

I do it again. 

I can get over it. 

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore. 

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed. 

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field. 

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you. 

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern. 

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face. 

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically. 

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place. 

Oh, God. Oh God, please. 

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees. 

"Good job everyone." 

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse. 

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes. 

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it. 

The encouragement of his introductory discourse. 

You'll feel like shit here, welcome. 

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same. 

Ever. 

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all. 

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day. 

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office. 

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply. 

And then you understood. 

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns. 

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse. 

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning. 

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright. 

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students. 

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with. 

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him. 

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive. 

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace. 

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand. 

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead. 

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you. 

Oh, you blinked fast. 

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings. 

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want? 

But Doyoung just complimented you. 

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. 

"I was so scared," you whispered. 

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth. 

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior? 

But he didn’t do any of these things. 

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body. 

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it. 

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go. 

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night. 

Nor did he look at you once. 

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind. 

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible. 

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways. 

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Bringing you the coffee?” 

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.” 

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk. 

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.” 

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?” 

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards. 

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped. 

“No, sir.” 

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all. 

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty. 

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter. 

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee. 

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk." 

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses. 

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone. 

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face. 

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind. 

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.” 

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink. 

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked. 

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?” 

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?” 

“It’s a normal Polo.” 

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”  

“What’s Holo?” 

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more. 

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.” 

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.” 

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk. 

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way. 

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all. 

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it. 

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin. 

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug. 

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too. 

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try? 

What a reckless person. 

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well. 

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time. 

Or at least he thought that would happen. 

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one. 

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore. 

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.” 

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you. 

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light. 

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed. 

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly. 

“In case you forgot, I work here.” 

Doyoung sighed. 

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.” 

“I had business coming here.” 

“What business?” 

“That’s my business.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched. 

“It’s our business.” 

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?” 

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression. 

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin. 

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.” 

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little. 

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.” 

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

“Very well. Get back to work now.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once. 

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife. 

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.” 

You chuckled nervously. 

“He hates you too!” 

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged. 

“Hey, Jaemin.” 

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-” 

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.” 

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall. 

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.” 

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you. 

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you. 

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know. 

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once. 

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table. 

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you. 

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables. 

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him. 

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence. 

But only for a moment. 

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths. 

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered. 

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.” 

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!” 

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid. 

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented. 

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said. 

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water. 

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little. 

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile. 

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out. 

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.  

He was breathtaking. 

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway. 

For the second time. 

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same. 

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked. 

"Around me and you should be far away from me." 

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled. 

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his. 

“You’re trying to make me mad?” 

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way. 

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake. 

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows. 

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you. 

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly. 

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again. 

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny. 

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?” 

“What you’re feeling right now.” 

"I am not afraid," you whispered. 

"Then why are you stepping back?" 

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades. 

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle. 

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe. 

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart. 

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret. 

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm. 

Kim Doyoung? 

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung? 

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of? 

Because of Kim Doyoung? 

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self. 

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much. 

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names. 

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. 

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves. 

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered. 

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.” 

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him? 

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes. 

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss. 

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely. 

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that. 

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery. 

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up. 

__________

“Y/N.” 

You stopped in place. 

And so did most people around you. 

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them. 

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place. 

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around. 

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”  

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures. 

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you. 

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.” 

You wished you’d  accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you. 

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice. 

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.” 

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized. 

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I made a mistake,” he added. 

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage. 

Scold him. Make him feel guilty. 

Kim Doyoung making a mistake. 

Exhilarating. 

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips. 

“Yes.” 

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.” 

The excitement died out with these words. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Thursday’s surgery.” 

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.” 

“I did not.” 

“Well, I didn’t either.” 

“So-” 

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-” 

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-” 

“I was messing with you.” 

He finally went silent. 

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper. 

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up. 

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned. 

“You made me cry almost every day.” 

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face. 

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his. 

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.  

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.” 

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.” 

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone. 

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips. 

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten. 

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand. 

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them. 

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips. 

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back. 

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back. 

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence. 

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors. 

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it. 

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice. 

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee. 

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer. 

You sipped the drink. 

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours. 

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away. 

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own. 

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?" 

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins. 

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either." 

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured. 

Jaemin winced amused. 

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-" 

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you. 

You lightly hit his arm. 

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. 

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair. 

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid." 

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart. 

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms. 

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.” 

“And what if it does happen?” 

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.” 

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?” 

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that. 

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one. 

You didn’t like it, he could see it. 

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table. 

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you. 

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance. 

So he did. 

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat. 

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward. 

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down. 

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little. 

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt. 

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider. 

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment. 

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply. 

"Unfortunately, it has to be me." 

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls. 

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." 

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him. 

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?" 

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours. 

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze. 

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to." 

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards. 

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" 

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin. 

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed. 

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much." 

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth. 

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.” 

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it. 

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk. 

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs. 

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?” 

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts. 

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised. 

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again. 

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice. 

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb. 

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback. 

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.” 

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands. 

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him. 

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp. 

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison. 

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin. 

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night." 

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently. 

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm. 

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. 

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair. 

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it. 

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second. 

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores. 

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.  

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you. 

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled. 

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.  

"Don't stop."

"But you said-" 

"Don't cum and don't stop." 

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted. 

"Baby girl can't keep that in?" 

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again. 

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth. 

"Sir- I am begging you." 

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out. 

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch. 

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?" 

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself. 

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance. 

"You know where I live, right?" 

You nodded confused. 

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office. 

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him. 

"Cruel," you whispered. 

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind. 

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm? 

Or multiple, you considered. 

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end. 

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house. 

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway. 

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes. 

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home. 

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands. 

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away. 

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories. 

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left. 

Yet all you wanted to see was him. 

And all he wanted was to see was you naked. 

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up. 

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat. 

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you. 

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze. 

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.  

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship? 

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though. 

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show. 

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs. 

“This too.” 

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped. 

“Take it off yourself.” 

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers. 

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms. 

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room. 

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual. 

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it. 

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip. 

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed. 

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him. 

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle. 

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand. 

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting. 

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion. 

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide. 

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?” 

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.” 

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement. 

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.” 

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen. 

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.” 

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself. 

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed. 

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table. 

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.” 

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.” 

You scoffed. 

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips. 

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet. 

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap. 

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it." 

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery. 

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression. 

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights. 

Fuck. You really needed a drink. 

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers. 

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue. 

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips. 

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.” 

“And men.” 

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking. 

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself. 

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything. 

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more. 

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered. 

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once. 

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth. 

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.” 

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go. 

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale. 

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir." 

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that. 

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night. 

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage. 

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear. 

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back. 

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you. 

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes. 

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time. 

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore. 

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed. 

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you. 

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle. 

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt. 

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours. 

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss. 

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt. 

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him. 

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge. 

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much. 

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head. 

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?” 

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly. 

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had. 

“Right here?” he whispered amused. 

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping. 

And then it was too much and it overflowed. 

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead. 

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips. 

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit. 

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees. 

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever. 

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling. 

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded. 

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him. 

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before. 

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?” 

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak. 

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs. 

You breathed out. 

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength. 

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off. 

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. 

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock. 

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles. 

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate. 

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy. 

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.” 

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit. 

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him. 

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks. 

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you. 

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry. 

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you. 

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air. 

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you. 

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added. 

You bit your lower lip frustrated. 

"Babe, please-" you begged. 

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips. 

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear. 

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit. 

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds. 

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten. 

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream. 

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again. 

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you. 

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself. 

"Behave," he warned. 

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth. 

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell. 

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped. 

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt. 

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm. 

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue. 

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets. 

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night. 

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer. 

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted. 

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well. 

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep. 

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose. 

He blinked at you amused. 

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered. 

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments. 

Then you clicked your tongue. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t get all dark and distant.” 

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.” 

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again. 

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.” 

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul. 

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed. 

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side. 

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up. 

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face. 

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too. 

"Good morning," you whispered. 

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon." 

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured. 

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face. 

He smiled. 

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly. 

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there. 

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?" 

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his. 

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it. 

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."  

His smirk was lazy just like your movements. 

"So you want me just like this?" 

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.” 

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist. 

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more. 

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed. 

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod. 

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled. 

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless. 

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again. 

“You know,” he started. 

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.” 

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps. 

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker. 

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.” 

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about. 

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t. 

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.” 

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?” 

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.” 

“But you wish immortality was a thing.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.” 

“You’re very selfish.” 

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?” 

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead. 

“Why do you want people to not die?” 

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.” 

“For them or you?” 

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.” 

The stranger smiled a little. 

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.” 

“And what’s that?” 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.” 

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.” 

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.” 

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” 

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.” 

Doyoung didn’t reply. 

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.” 

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way. 

“Who are you by the way?” 

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.” 

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand. 

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless. 

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.” 

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.” 

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards. 

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible. 

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question. 

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.  

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering. 

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?” 

“My friend.” 

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?” 

“He’s not using me.” 

“Isn’t he now?” 

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly. 

“I do.” 

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words. 

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second. 

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?” 

“That’s Y/N.” 

“Because you say so.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.” 

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #neosmutcollective #nct-writers #nct smut #doyoung angst #nct angst #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #nct doyoung #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #soulmates collection #doyoung doctor au #nct doctor au

[irhinoceri]

I read “I Am The Messenger” by Markus Zusak several years ago, sometime between 2002 and 2005 (because I know it wasn’t brand new when I read it but I’m pretty sure “The Book Thief” hadn’t been published yet) and at the time I loved the book. I thought it was amazing. I vaguely remember thinking the ending was a bit anticlimactic, that the resolution to the mystery of who was sending the cards felt unsatisfying, but I loved the rest of the book so much I felt like hardly mattered.

Well... gosh.... hmmmm. I have very complicated feelings now, because I listened to the audiobook, and though the narrator being Australian really gave it that perfect voice that I wasn’t able to achieve in my head when I first read it, it was a slog. I thought about turning it off several times because I just couldn’t.... stand.... it.

And it’s making me think again about The Literary Discourse posts about whether a story is good or bad based on the moral conduct of the main character. And while Ed is certainly not the most unlikeable character ever, the really problematic aspects of both him as a protagonist and a POV character leapt out at me in 2021 the way they almost completely went past me in the early 00s. I was younger, I was far more conservative, so even reading books with swearing and sex and violence in them felt kind of revolutionary to me at the time, but still. I am trying to remember what it was that I liked about it.

Part of the problem is the textbook case of The Friendzone that runs throughout the book re: Ed being in love with Audrey who considers him her best friend and refuses to have a sexual relationship with him, though she comes to him for emotional intimacy and the sort of borderline sexual intimacy of being barely clothed around him, getting drunk and sleeping with him (platonically) all while maintaining vigorous sexual relationships with other boyfriends, who mostly go unnamed because they don’t matter.

In the end, of course, Audrey finally relents and comes to him and they get together, which feels hollow to me because a far more satisfying outcome would be for Ed to learn to move on and find someone else, or at least to let Audrey go (which he ostensibly does, but then he is “rewarded” for letting her go by her finally being willing to start a sexual relationship with him). And I’m just going.... why can’t he let her go and that’s it? Why can’t it be that he lets go of the desire to have a relationship she is not willing to give, and it truly does free him? That is a wonderful feeling. I’ve been “in the friendzone” as a girl in love with guys who valued me as a friend but found me sexually unappealing, and never once did it turn out where they finally woke up one day to realize that the emotional connection we had was more important than the sexual chemistry they had with the girls they actually wanted to date. You know what feels like Growth? The point where you realize that you don’t actually Want to date that person anymore, and the point where you are free from the desire and the unrequited yearning.

I wish more stories with Friendzone plots had the guts to end the story that way. Even (or especially) in a case like this where she’s constantly telling him that he’s her best friend and the only person she loves and that’s why she’d can’t have a sexual relationship with him and coming to him at night for cuddling after she’s had E rated fic levels of sex with her “boyfriend” she doesn’t Love.... like jeezus I do feel bad for the guy in the Friendzone when the story is framed like that, you know? And this is probably how most incels think of themselves, as the long suffering Only True Gentleman who is Better than the Chad getting all the pussy (even while he’s overcome with lust whenever the Love Interest enters the scene and we have at least a few sentence describing her hips and legs and breasts).

Anyway, at this point this particular phenomenon has been debated, hashed out, disproven, what have you.... so to re-read a story where it’s so firmly romanticized and realize I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it the first time around it was an eye-opener. I was torn between disgust at the protagonist for his constant objectification of Audrey and disgust with him for allowing her to emotionally manipulate him for literal years while she fucked around and kept him her back pocket (thus the near perfect embodiment of the highly sexual yet unattainable friendzoner). I was never rooting for them to become a couple. I was always rooting for Ed to get over her or for her to leave him him alone.

The other thing that really got to me was how Ed was stalking literally everyone in the story, including a 15 year old girl whom he lusted after despite repeatedly saying he wasn’t a creep and he wasn’t doing it For Those Reasons.... but it was Okay because stalking people to help them was the point of the whole story.

(Quick plot beak down... after foiling a bank robbery, 19-year-old taxi driver (it was 2002 so he’s basically an Uber driver) Ed Kennedy starts getting playing cards with cryptic messages on them, in the form of addresses or clues to addresses, and when he goes and stalks the people who live there, he figures out some way they need help in their lives and helps them, thus growing in confidence as a person along the way.)

At the end he’s helped a lot of people and learned to be a better person, almost a la Bill Murray in Groundhog Day... and the only thing left is to find out who has been sending him the playing cards and orchestrating events all along. Without spoiling it, the answer is very unsatisfying and unclear. It’s almost a precursor to the narrator/character of Death in “The Book Thief” but far less defined and a bit more like “Stranger Than Fiction” in a boring way.

The other thing that kept driving my a little crazy was the fact that Ed was only 19. I felt like I was reading about a guy in his 30s. He just felt like such an Old and Jaded character, and granted some 19-year-olds have lived harder lives or whatever... but also he had his own apartment and full time job and a close knit circle of friends he met up with in person regularly... and yet it was hammered home again and again that he was a loser. A pathetic person who hadn’t accomplished anything in life and never would.

Granted, it was 2002 when this book was published. But a 19-year-old with their own apartment and job? In THIS economy? And THREE (3) IRL friends whom he gets together with on a regular basis??? Okay so he’s not having sex, big deal. This guy is a fucking success by any millennial barometer, though I suppose a 19-year-old in 2002 would be a Gen Xer?? Hmmmm no I turned 17 in 2002 and I’m a millennial so... whatever. Tangent.

Anyway, the whole book hinges on this idea that he’s a total loser and needs to learn to.... connect with people... and make a difference in the world.... and ok look I’m not saying he shouldn’t be aspiring to bigger things than being an Uber driver, but I have a 39 year old friend who is an Uber driver! And he’s a cool guy and a smart person and is valued by his friends! It’s Okay! To have! A service job! And also he’s going back to school and trying to get his life back on track and all, which is good, and I’m not saying Ed shouldn’t do the same thing or whatever. But I don’t know, this story just feels so much more like it would hit harder if the protagonist was in his mid 30s instead of 19. I just felt like telling everyone, the author included, to chill the fuck out and lay off Ed for not being the fucking poet laureate of Australia (is that a thing?) or surgeon general at 19 years old, a year after his alcoholic father died. I will say it again: JEEZUS.

Also also there’s a pretty disturbing rape plot where Ed must save a woman from her rapist husband, and I’m not gonna say that much about it beyond the fact that hopefully we, as a society, can progress past rape plots that revolve around an outside male observer. I mean, good on anyone who tries to help someone who is currently trapped in a domestic abuse situation, but the particular way that plot was handled in this story was just all kinds of gross and it gets even worse in retrospect at the end.

This post is not meant as literary criticism. I have an English degree and I know that this post would not hold up as a paper by any stretch of the imagination, it would get an F as a work of literary criticism, this is just me thinking about how I feel now versus how I felt nearly 20 years ago when I loved this book.

#word vomit rambling #personal thoughts

[direquail]

An NB reading of Grace in Terminator: Dark Fate

Disclaimer:

Before I start, just want to get this out here: I’m in no way insisting that Grace *has* to be non-binary, that we’re *supposed* to read her as non-binary, or that that’s in any way what she’s “meant to be”. This is just some stuff I’ve noticed that, as someone who sits on the genderqueer/non-binary/transmasc side of things, really resonated with me. Again--read her as entirely woman-identified if that’s what you want to do or feels right to you. I am ecstatic that lesbians and wlw-identified folks have someone that they feel represented in, too. I wish I’d had more characters like her when I was growing up and felt so out of place because of my gender non-conformity. 


But I, for one, would love a non-binary or even trans reading of Grace.

So what I’d like to do instead is just lay out a couple ways someone who is NB-identified *might* connect with Grace as a nonbinary character. Starting with the obvious.

Androgyny Now, I do want to be clear that I know that gender presentation =\= gender identity. And again, obviously, people will latch onto things that they relate to in characters, and I really do believe that there’s no “one right way” to read a character. The character of Grace isn’t a real person; she’s part of a story, told by people, who had something specific to say, and her character reflects that. But from the perspective of the people who watch her, who internalize and connect with her character, there can be points of connection that have nothing to do with the author’s/creator’s intent, and so, Grace-the-character can be many things to many people. The only real way to know how a person IDs is to ask them. That’s it, that’s all. You can’t assume. But also, sometimes, people do “ping” a certain way. They give off a sort of “energy”, and for me, Grace’s energy isn’t the sort of “diaphanous femininity” that even visibly-gender-nonconforming AFAB characters are often framed to exude. Grace’s energy isn’t masculine, either. Her mannerisms don’t seem intended to read that way; rather, they seem intended to read as soldier. I’m not very skilled at breaking down movements, especially when it comes to how actors move and what it all means. It’s totally possible that a lot of what’s unique about how Grace moves is because Mackenzie Davis is, self-admittedly, not the most athletically-inclined person. Grace is long-limbed and rangy and sometimes very stiff/poised, but never stiff through the hips like a Straight Dude(TM), or heavy through the shoulders like a musclebound meathead. She takes up space, too; she’s taller than Dani and Sarah both, and the only recurring characters who are “bigger” than her throughout most of the film are Carl and the Rev-9.

To be clear: Women can be tall, and rangy, and androgynous, and take up space, and that doesn’t make them less women--unless they don’t identify that way. My point with all of the above is just observing that Grace doesn’t move like a “male action hero”—but she also doesn’t seem over-the-top feminine in the way that mainstream-y media will “compensate” for perceived unfemininity, and that’s kind of wonderful. Her stature, her physique, all of that, seem to be chosen and calibrated towards an end goal that isn’t gendered: Combat, efficacy as a warrior. Whether you want to read her as a woman or as nonbinary is largely going to be about your personal preference. This also has the effect of giving the impression that Grace is absolutely unselfconscious about her body and how it looks—and she has no reason to be, not because she looks good or bad, but because what she can do with her body is just so vastly more important, and because she’s so willing to put her body and everything it can do on the line in order to fulfill her mission (and protect Dani). If Grace has a gender, it’d be “Protector” or “Warrior”. And in a way, what makes Grace so appealing to female-identified lesbians is the same thing that makes her appealing to NB people—Her character was explicitly designed not to cater to “the male gaze”, and therefore, she also exists outside the typical gendered confines reserved for “female characters” in media. The emphasis is just slightly different: Instead of a different way of being female, NB!Grace has little to no use for those categories at all. Again, it’s all in how you want to read her. Grace comes from a future where survival and fighting take first priority, and you could project the same tired “Gender isn’t a ~problem~ in the future/after the world ends” approach that a lot of cis and hetero men take to sci-fi--but also, why? It’s tired. Give me a Grace who is preoccupied with survival, yes, who maybe doesn’t have time to think too much about this gender shit--but also, a Grace who finds that this “androgyny” (although she might not call it that) suits her, who takes to this way of moving and being in the world, this way of using her body, and identifies more with that than with being a “man” or a “woman”. 


(Sidenote: as someone who took a fair amount of Queer Studies classes, it does irk me a bit that discussions of mainstream-y speculative media seem permanently suspended between this sort of “genderblind” futurism where “identities” just don’t exist because they’re apparently not needed anymore, or copy-pasting our contemporary discourses about identity into a future that is materially very different than ours. The point of these identities is, in part, to describe our experiences, the good as well as the bad, and those experiences of gender and sexuality don’t exist in a vacuum. So, the words we use will necessarily change to accommodate that—especially in the post-apocalypse. BUT, everything that comes after us will also bear the stamp of what came before it; it’s just a matter of what the creator means to emphasize.) Augments & Body Mods This is a little dicey, because there’s some clear tension in the movie between the idea of robots = inhuman/unfeeling = bad, and humans = good/feeling. And in that light, it’s potentially problematic to (even incidentally) imply that nonbinary/gender-nonconforming = not human.

But I’d like to point out that the film does deliberately challenge any neat separation of “human” and “machine” with Carl’s evolution as a person. 
And based on what I’ve read from James Cameron and Tim Miller interviews, there is some “blurring” intended between human and machine in the franchise.

In fact, Carl and Grace are foils for each other, somewhat, in the sense that they’re on opposite ends of a spectrum where human and machine become blurred, and I love that. As a genderqueer person with a very fluid experience, it appeals to me on a deep level because you could spend literally forever breaking down where does one “gender” end and another begin--emotionally, socially, spiritually, and physically.  


So the fact that there’s (1) no hard binary between human and machine (it’s explicitly subverted), and (2) we’re given multiple points of inflection, especially if you count Sarah and the Rev-9--alleviates a lot of the tension I’d feel otherwise in mentioning this. But I don’t think this is something that should be allegorical or a direct comparison; I think that it operates best on a metaphorical or theoretical level. 


And just, it’s the whole vaguely-cyberpunk idea of modifying your own body, not in a mass-produced or manufactured sense, but in this organic and highly individual sense, born out of contingency and necessity, that makes Grace’s Augments so meaningful. It’s one of the things that makes her read as human, too, because it feels more in line with our tendency to stick ink, steel, bone, what have you, through our skins whenever we get the chance--as opposed to some kind of symbolic dehumanization by “becoming a machine”.

Grace routinely refuses to categorize herself in anything other than the most general terms, or explain the details of her Augments, and she seems very protective of them. Rather than seeming ashamed, this refusal reads a lot like the popular queer identity explanation “not gay as in happy, but queer as in “fuck you’”. Her Augments are part of her, and part of her humanity; she volunteered for them, she owns them, and is even protective of them, viewing CBP’s invasive examination of her Augments as a kind of violation of her bodily autonomy. They’re clearly complicated for her, but they’re anything but depersonalized.

And going even further, the reason why she volunteered for them is so that she can defend humanity--and also someone she loves (Dani). They’re an extension of her sense of family, loyalty, love, and willingness to sacrifice.

And I don’t know for sure, but I imagine that Grace is basically one-of-a-kind, even among other Augments, if only because those Augmentations seem to be performed with the tech that’s on hand--salvaged Legion tech, by the sound of it, at least to start with. So the outcome depends on the parts available, the complexity and maturity of the Augmentation technology and process, and the skill & experience of the surgeons, all of which would vary over time. 


And honestly? If that doesn’t qualify as “beyond the binary”, I don’t know what does.

Some other general observations:

- Grace’s short hair is a constant throughout the post-Judgement Day scenes. As someone who started wearing their hair short as a preteen and hasn’t had hair to my shoulders since age 12, that does seem significant.

- Grace only introduces herself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9. Granted, most women don’t like to be addressed as “HEY LADY”, either, but it stood out to me, especially because she refused to give her name only a couple of minutes before that. Either way you read it, the line feels like it expresses some level of discomfort with or objection to that gendered statement. Maybe she finds that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe she doesn’t really identify as a woman. She’s just... Grace.

- there were multiple times I mistook the back of her tank top for the back of a binder, even though she clearly was not binding.

- she constantly steals mens’ clothes--partly because she’s too tall for a lot of womens’ clothes around her, partly out of utility (like at the factory and CBP, where a lot of the guards are men). But also, it pleases the genderfucking queer in me quite a bit. And, I should note, when she had the option to take a female guard’s clothes at the CBP facility... she didn’t.

But ultimately, when I look at Grace, I see someone whose gender is “Warrior” or “Soldier”. And it’s so wonderful to see that so purely represented on a character we’re meant to perceive as female. So, please believe me when I say I don’t want to “take away” what Grace means for other people. 
And, for the record, I do mostly default to using she/her pronouns for Grace, because that’s how she’s canonically referred to. But just for fun--try this on for size: Using “they/them” pronouns for Grace. They (Grace) came back in time to protect Dani. It rolls off the tongue, right? It feels nice. Let’s re-try a couple of sentences from above: 


- “multiple times I mistook the back of their tank top for the back of a binder, even though they clearly weren’t binding” 


- “Grace’s Augments are about their ability to be a soldier. They were Augmented in order to hunt Terminators... Everything else is secondary to that, and their mission to protect Dani”

- “Grace only introduces themself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9 ... Maybe they find that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe they don’t really identify as a woman. They’re just... Grace.”

And finally: 


Can you imagine the poor sod who tried to make fun of Grace for having a “girly” name? lmao rip

#terminator dark fate #tdf grace #meta #mine

[intersex-ionality]

I have a question, because I’ve run into this a few times and it feels super iffy to me, but I also don’t want to talk over intersex folks; I’m nb, and I generally say I’m mostly comfortable with my body, so obviously I get the whole ‘mimi you can’t be trans if you aren’t dysphoric/don’t want to transition’ bs thrown at me from time to time. The thing is tho: I *am* dysphoric, specifically I’d love to either be able to change my body on will or have “”both”” sets of genitals simultaneously. 1/4

           Now, afaik intersex conditions don’t work like that, and it’s not medically possible until we invent the magic transhumanist robot future, so it’s also an absolute pipedream I indulge in in fiction etc. when I have a bad day. But what happens every time I actually *do* dare to say that is that someone (or a lot of people) inevitably accuse me of ‘fetishizing intersex ppl’, except intersex doesn’ t work that way; this isn’t inherently sexual; this is about MY body, not my potential partners? 2/4             

           And that’s where I’m at: When I talk about my genitals to strangers, I am harassed. When I don’t talk about my genitals to strangers, I am harassed. When I write about characters like me, who wish they could change their body, I am harassed. When I write characters who are okay with their bodies, I am harassed. When I write wish fulfillment magic robot faery characters that have the kind of genital config I might want, I am harassed. 3/4            

           I don’t want to hurt intersex ppl, but I can’t help but notice how this feels a lot like warmed-over autogynophilia for nb folks, and like ppl just want me to … not talk or exist publicly, ever. 4/4             

Man, fuck anyone who tells you what you are or are not allowed to feel about your own goddamn genitalia, I hate those people.

Anyway, you’re quite correct. The whole, “bigenital dysphoria is just a fetish” thing is 100% a nonbinary directed version of autogynephilia/autoandrophilia bullshit, and those people are formally invited to suck an egg.

It’s also a manifestation of the intense sex-negative, anti-trans environment that has becoming increasingly popular even in progressive spaces, as a result of radical feminist and conservative propaganda. The logic at play is as fallacious as it is painfully simple.

First, they re-cast all dysphoria and euphoria (genderphoria?) as a Sex Thing, then they re-cast all Sex Things as either Thought Crime, or just outright Violent Crime.

Most of the people who are policing how you are allowed to feel about yourself and your body feel completely justified in doing so. They probably legitimately believe they are doing you a favour, saving you from committing some kind of great criminal act.

But they’re just bigots.

Plus, by saying that you should feel ashamed for wanting that body, they’re implying that body is shameful, which is literally why infant genital mutilation is a thing at all.

If you don’t feel up to telling them to huff a moldy sock, feel free to link them to this post, and I’ll do it.

Dear Well Intended but Ultimately Detrimental Discourser,

You’re reading this because you told someone that they should not be allowed to have feelings of bigenital dys/euphoria, because it would be harmful to intersex people.

This is untrue for several reasons, two of which I will cover now.

First, policing what other people are or are not allowed to feel about their own bodies is for conservative christian cults. If you aren’t a member of one of those cults, you need to stop using their techniques. If you are a member of one of those cults, let me know, and I will help you find resources to get out of them. There are a lot of cult extrication organizations active in many countries in the world today, and you don’t have to keep living like that.

Second, treating bodies with “atypical” genitalia was something that should never be desirable--whether sexually or personally--is the legitimate, actual reasoning for why surgeons cut off my dick when I was a baby and forced me to undergo extensive, violent, rape-like procedures throughout my childhood to stretch out my vaginal cavity until it was a normative depth. 

Your intentions are good, and I applaud them, but your impacts just serve to make people like me feel more disgusting and more isolated, and serve to legitimize the medical abuse we often face.

So either, you stop saying things like that, or you eat shit because you’re being hypocritical. These are the options. I know which one I would personally recommend, but like, it’s honestly up to you.

Thanks for your time,

An Actual Hermaphrodite

#igm #infant genital mutilation #genitalia #mutilation #medical abuse

#Also yes all of your asks came through on anon #Anonymous

[readbookywooks]

[The Houyhnhnm's notion of truth and falsehood. The author's discourse disapproved by his master. The author gives a more particular account of himself, and the accidents of his voyage.] My master heard me with great appearances of uneasiness in his countenance; because doubting, or not believing, are so little known in this country, that the inhabitants cannot tell how to behave themselves under such circumstances. And I remember, in frequent discourses with my master concerning the nature of manhood in other parts of the world, having occasion to talk of lying and false representation, it was with much difficulty that he comprehended what I meant, although he had otherwise a most acute judgment. For he argued thus: "that the use of speech was to make us understand one another, and to receive information of facts; now, if any one said the thing which was not, these ends were defeated, because I cannot properly be said to understand him; and I am so far from receiving information, that he leaves me worse than in ignorance; for I am led to believe a thing black, when it is white, and short, when it is long." And these were all the notions he had concerning that faculty of lying, so perfectly well understood, and so universally practised, among human creatures. To return from this digression. When I asserted that the YAHOOS were the only governing animals in my country, which my master said was altogether past his conception, he desired to know, "whether we had HOUYHNHNMS among us, and what was their employment?" I told him, "we had great numbers; that in summer they grazed in the fields, and in winter were kept in houses with hay and oats, where YAHOO servants were employed to rub their skins smooth, comb their manes, pick their feet, serve them with food, and make their beds." "I understand you well," said my master: "it is now very plain, from all you have spoken, that whatever share of reason the YAHOOS pretend to, the HOUYHNHNMS are your masters; I heartily wish our YAHOOS would be so tractable." I begged "his honour would please to excuse me from proceeding any further, because I was very certain that the account he expected from me would be highly displeasing." But he insisted in commanding me to let him know the best and the worst. I told him "he should be obeyed." I owned "that the HOUYHNHNMS among us, whom we called horses, were the most generous and comely animals we had; that they excelled in strength and swiftness; and when they belonged to persons of quality, were employed in travelling, racing, or drawing chariots; they were treated with much kindness and care, till they fell into diseases, or became foundered in the feet; but then they were sold, and used to all kind of drudgery till they died; after which their skins were stripped, and sold for what they were worth, and their bodies left to be devoured by dogs and birds of prey. But the common race of horses had not so good fortune, being kept by farmers and carriers, and other mean people, who put them to greater labour, and fed them worse." I described, as well as I could, our way of riding; the shape and use of a bridle, a saddle, a spur, and a whip; of harness and wheels. I added, "that we fastened plates of a certain hard substance, called iron, at the bottom of their feet, to preserve their hoofs from being broken by the stony ways, on which we often travelled." My master, after some expressions of great indignation, wondered "how we dared to venture upon a HOUYHNHNM'S back; for he was sure, that the weakest servant in his house would be able to shake off the strongest YAHOO; or by lying down and rolling on his back, squeeze the brute to death." I answered "that our horses were trained up, from three or four years old, to the several uses we intended them for; that if any of them proved intolerably vicious, they were employed for carriages; that they were severely beaten, while they were young, for any mischievous tricks; that the males, designed for the common use of riding or draught, were generally castrated about two years after their birth, to take down their spirits, and make them more tame and gentle; that they were indeed sensible of rewards and punishments; but his honour would please to consider, that they had not the least tincture of reason, any more than the YAHOOS in this country." It put me to the pains of many circumlocutions, to give my master a right idea of what I spoke; for their language does not abound in variety of words, because their wants and passions are fewer than among us. But it is impossible to express his noble resentment at our savage treatment of the HOUYHNHNM race; particularly after I had explained the manner and use of castrating horses among us, to hinder them from propagating their kind, and to render them more servile. He said, "if it were possible there could be any country where YAHOOS alone were endued with reason, they certainly must be the governing animal; because reason in time will always prevail against brutal strength. But, considering the frame of our bodies, and especially of mine, he thought no creature of equal bulk was so ill-contrived for employing that reason in the common offices of life;" whereupon he desired to know whether those among whom I lived resembled me, or the YAHOOS of his country?" I assured him, "that I was as well shaped as most of my age; but the younger, and the females, were much more soft and tender, and the skins of the latter generally as white as milk." He said, "I differed indeed from other YAHOOS, being much more cleanly, and not altogether so deformed; but, in point of real advantage, he thought I differed for the worse: that my nails were of no use either to my fore or hinder feet; as to my fore feet, he could not properly call them by that name, for he never observed me to walk upon them; that they were too soft to bear the ground; that I generally went with them uncovered; neither was the covering I sometimes wore on them of the same shape, or so strong as that on my feet behind: that I could not walk with any security, for if either of my hinder feet slipped, I must inevitably fail." He then began to find fault with other parts of my body: "the flatness of my face, the prominence of my nose, mine eyes placed directly in front, so that I could not look on either side without turning my head: that I was not able to feed myself, without lifting one of my fore-feet to my mouth: and therefore nature had placed those joints to answer that necessity. He knew not what could be the use of those several clefts and divisions in my feet behind; that these were too soft to bear the hardness and sharpness of stones, without a covering made from the skin of some other brute; that my whole body wanted a fence against heat and cold, which I was forced to put on and off every day, with tediousness and trouble: and lastly, that he observed every animal in this country naturally to abhor the YAHOOS, whom the weaker avoided, and the stronger drove from them. So that, supposing us to have the gift of reason, he could not see how it were possible to cure that natural antipathy, which every creature discovered against us; nor consequently how we could tame and render them serviceable. However, he would," as he said, "debate the matter no farther, because he was more desirous to know my own story, the country where I was born, and the several actions and events of my life, before I came hither." I assured him, "how extremely desirous I was that he should be satisfied on every point; but I doubted much, whether it would be possible for me to explain myself on several subjects, whereof his honour could have no conception; because I saw nothing in his country to which I could resemble them; that, however, I would do my best, and strive to express myself by similitudes, humbly desiring his assistance when I wanted proper words;" which he was pleased to promise me. I said, "my birth was of honest parents, in an island called England; which was remote from his country, as many days' journey as the strongest of his honour's servants could travel in the annual course of the sun; that I was bred a surgeon, whose trade it is to cure wounds and hurts in the body, gotten by accident or violence; that my country was governed by a female man, whom we called queen; that I left it to get riches, whereby I might maintain myself and family, when I should return; that, in my last voyage, I was commander of the ship, and had about fifty YAHOOS under me, many of which died at sea, and I was forced to supply them by others picked out from several nations; that our ship was twice in danger of being sunk, the first time by a great storm, and the second by striking against a rock." Here my master interposed, by asking me, "how I could persuade strangers, out of different countries, to venture with me, after the losses I had sustained, and the hazards I had run?" I said, "they were fellows of desperate fortunes, forced to fly from the places of their birth on account of their poverty or their crimes. Some were undone by lawsuits; others spent all they had in drinking, whoring, and gaming; others fled for treason; many for murder, theft, poisoning, robbery, perjury, forgery, coining false money, for committing rapes, or sodomy; for flying from their colours, or deserting to the enemy; and most of them had broken prison; none of these durst return to their native countries, for fear of being hanged, or of starving in a jail; and therefore they were under the necessity of seeking a livelihood in other places." During this discourse, my master was pleased to interrupt me several times. I had made use of many circumlocutions in describing to him the nature of the several crimes for which most of our crew had been forced to fly their country. This labour took up several days' conversation, before he was able to comprehend me. He was wholly at a loss to know what could be the use or necessity of practising those vices. To clear up which, I endeavoured to give some ideas of the desire of power and riches; of the terrible effects of lust, intemperance, malice, and envy. All this I was forced to define and describe by putting cases and making suppositions. After which, like one whose imagination was struck with something never seen or heard of before, he would lift up his eyes with amazement and indignation. Power, government, war, law, punishment, and a thousand other things, had no terms wherein that language could express them, which made the difficulty almost insuperable, to give my master any conception of what I meant. But being of an excellent understanding, much improved by contemplation and converse, he at last arrived at a competent knowledge of what human nature, in our parts of the world, is capable to perform, and desired I would give him some particular account of that land which we call Europe, but especially of my own country.

#GulliversTravels

[transformingyourlives]

Dangerous Magical Dogmas

“I think, therefore I am”

—Descartes

 Awhile back, I heard of a concept called “magical thinking.” Magical thinking suggests that only thinking makes it so. It’s the kind of thinking that suggests that your desires alone, rather than hard work and planning, are the keys to your success. With that in mind, particularly after watching the news over the past 18 months, I have created a new phrase, “magical dogmas,” which are views that are so big and conceptual that they encompass all other beliefs and occurrences that might possibly refute them. Thus, magical dogmas can’t be confirmed or refuted, as all knowledge falls under their influence.

 You probably don’t realize yours, but we all have our own “magical dogmas.” They’re all too common. As it turns out, if you look around you will see how many of us needlessly hold on to them as though life itself depended on it. For example, “Everything happens for a reason,” is a magical dogma. It’s so all-inclusive that it serves as its own explanation. You can’t really disprove it or demonstrate contrary evidence to it.

 “It’s only true if there is evidence to support it,” is another magical dogma. “God has a plan for everyone,” is another. “We are all spiritually connected and one with the universe,” is another.

And here is one of my all time favorites, “We all live in a matrix-like, computer-generated virtual reality and none of what we see it actually real.” Face it, regardless of your argument to the contrary, all that you say simply reinforces it. If I try to point out that there’s no actual substantiation for the idea that this is a super-realistic form of virtual reality, you can easily reply, “Yeah, because the machines programmed it that way.” You either accept it as your truth or you don’t. It is exactly the same with all magical dogmas.

Magical dogmas are pervasive in our culture and they guide much of what we feel and think about what happens around us. Some say that you get what you deserve, and if things don’t work out, it’s because you’re lazy or stupid or not applying yourself. Others believe people suffer as a result of karma, i.e., what goes around comes around and it’s everywhere you will ever be. You can find the belief that people suffer because humans are bad and God punishes us for not living a right life, and while these are all common, everyday magical dogmas, they have very real consequences on our lives.

Magical dogmas are pervasive

in our culture and they

 guide much of what we feel and think

about what happens around us.

 Take your everyday political beliefs. People on the left tend to believe that people are inherently incapable, and that they need the care and tending of an enlightened leadership class who will care for, and make sure that their lives go as the national plan intends. People on the right, however, tend to believe that people are inherently self- sufficient and that the government need only level the playing field and get out of the way. I won’t even get into the Libertarians or the other fringe groups and their beliefs, but it works the same there, too.

As a kind of collective Rorschach test, magical dogmas explain why groups with diametrically opposed points of view can see or experience the same event and both believe that it supports their position rather than the opposing one. One person sees the homeless under the interstate and sees oppressed and victimized members of our society. Another person sees the very same homeless people and sees slackers who haven given up and deserve the life they’ve 'brought upon themselves.' Because magical dogmas can explain all experience, all experience, therefore, reinforces the magical dogma. There is no possibility for a negotiated middle ground.

Magical dogmas can be nonthreatening (“Everything happens for a reason”), valuable, (“All knowledge must be verified and tested to be believed”), compassionate, (“The meaning of life is to ease human suffering”), or monstrous, (“Death to all non-believers”).

You might think otherwise, but be aware that you carry magical dogmas with you all the time. They are the foundations upon which your understanding of the world is built. As a result, magical dogmas can be terribly difficult to recognize. Heck, they feel so clearly correct to you that you never question them. Why would you? They are true for everyone.

Over time though, you’ll notice—particularly at election time—your magical dogmas, and the magical dogmas of your friends, poking up their nasty heads, disrupting sensible conversations, putting roadblocks up to any reasonable discourse or development. It is primarily during those moments where magical dogmas emerge, and the point of this whole article is to say that they must be challenged.

 Because magical dogmas

can explain all experience,

all experience, therefore,

 reinforces the magical dogma.

 When people do horrifying things, they don’t do it because they’re unsure of themselves or consider that they are wrong or impaired in some way. It’s just the opposite. People who do terrible things most often do them because they are confident in their own ethical or moral supremacy. They are confident that they are right and you are wrong that they feel justified in imposing their own beliefs on you through force. Wasn’t it Mao who famously said, “Power comes through the barrel of a gun”?

Whether we’re talking about Hitler, Mao, the World Trade Centers, a bar, or restaurant in Paris, or honor killing a Afghan woman in Detroit for showing any of her body in public, people who do these horrific things do them because they are certain in their own moral superiority, and that self-same moral superiority is usually the product of some magical dogma that indeed, cannot be confirmed or fundamentally questioned.

Adolph Hitler took people in desperate starving situations and people with serious mental illnesses and convinced them to buy into the magical dogma that Aryans were the super race, and his way—the Nazi way—was their only path to salvation. From there, as with most charismatic leaders, it was uphill at first and then all downhill. Once followers buy into that initial magical dogmas, convincing them to give away their judgment, disown their neighbors, or even to round Jews and ship them off to camps for execution, feels like a no-brainer to them.

The Only True Belief

At the risk of making you laugh, I will now state an axiom; the only true magical dogma is that no magical dogma is entirely true. That is it. The only certainty is that things are rarely certain…ever. And if you doubt that assertion, check with a really good surgeon.

The reason that this the only “safe” magical dogma is that it acts as a limit on your capacity to drive your convictions onto others, while concurrently always leaving you open to new ideas. It makes you less of a jerk and allows you to remain open to dealing with the challenges of life in a realistic and authentic way.

You hear and read a lot of claptrap about being “sure” of yourself. You have been told, even by me from time to time, that you need to have faith in yourself and your ideas. These clichés are usually restated in an effort to encourage folks to feel more confidence in their abilities to work through a plan. Worried about your performance at work? You muster up some assurance that you really are a cold-calling tyrannosaurus. Start to feel uncomfortable with how your relationship is working out, you fall back on the old “everything happens for a reason” magical dogma to feel a bit more at ease about the situation. After all, they cheated on you first.

Magical dogmas relieve much of the anxiety caused by never knowing just how things will turn out. That is the good side of them, but the dark side is that they do so by guiding you to buy into paradigms that can lead to the Dark Side.

As a coach, I have noticed that in our “feel good” way of living, many of us have forgotten a fundamental truth—anxiety is useful. Actually it is critical to our survival as a species.

Anxiety evolved right along with us to protect us from doing stupid things that got some of us killed. See a lion in the jungle? You get anxious. There’s a reason for that. Having come out of the heart of Africa, had humans been casual about the presence of lions in the neighborhood, you might not be reading this.

Anxiety is intended to alert us that we are about to do something stupid, or that our present location has become dangerous. When you doubt yourself, you feel similarly generated anxiety. Doubting yourself forces you to recognize that you may be trusting in something unwise, and it just might get you (or your tribe) killed as well. Yet, instead of facing your anxieties, and becoming comfortable with your doubts, the cultural elite decided instead to get rid of the anxiety and be as certain in our ill-considered ideas as we can.

To a point, doubt is healthy. Doubt, up to the moment of commitment, is a virtue. Just like resistance training breaks down muscle to make stronger muscles, it’s the same with doubt. When you allow yourself to doubt your own ideas and beliefs, you make yourself stronger in the knowledge that you investigated and understand them.

Faith; think about it. You simply can’t have faith without doubt. Doubt is absolutely required to test one’s faith and in the end, make it stronger. There can never be true confidence without some level of doubt. Without doubt, there really is nothing to endure. You will never have a brilliant idea without doubt, as doubt and criticism and yes, that enemy of success, i.e., failure, is what slowly chisels away at mediocre idea turning it into the brilliant success you dream of.

It is OK to cultivate doubt in your life. It’s perfectly normal to be a little unsure. Do you see it yet? Being unsure leads to challenging, discerning, erudition, and refining. It leads to discourse, broad-mindedness and approval and the rest of the things that make modern society easier to tolerate. Doubt makes you more resilient. And if handled correctly, it should make you more curious, and maybe even a little smarter.

With all that is going on in the world today, doubt is more important than ever. With our attention being vied for at every turn, we have less time and mind available for each issue we encounter. The glut of information and contrary information available, not to mention news and fake news, and how easily the internet lets us surround ourselves with only like-minded people, our ability to hold onto doubt will become, an asset for 21st-century society. It will differentiate people who are able to think critically and synthesize information, from those who will always lash out and go with the day’s biggest information development.

In the end though, it will differentiate people who can chart their own courses in a sea of opportunity and miasma of information, from those who drown in unthinking noise.

SEE A LIFE COACH IN BATON ROUGE

Frank Hopkins is a life coach in Baton Rouge who is certified as a Professional Coach (CPC) by the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC). Frank has helped numerous people to go through emotional change in a way that is positively transformative. You can see Frank's other website, www.frankhopkinlifecoach.com on line as well.